Floating to the Surface

I’m not sure how to get back in the saddle. My whole world has changed because of the kindness of mostly strangers, and simply plunking myself down at my keyboard somehow seems weightier and more meaningful. I plan on writing up something more sensitive and substantial on this, but for now, I just wanted to return and report.

Last week- just a few days ago, actually- I vented into the universe my fears and frustrations. Calling how I felt ‘afraid’ is really a tremendous understatement- I was at my lowest point I can remember. I felt desperate, without resource— I felt abandoned by God and utterly alone.

When I write, I seldom imagine who is reading. In my mind, a handful of friends check in and may or may not have something to say to me. My only guiding light is honesty; I committed a long time ago to never shy away from things because I am vulnerable or they’re difficult. What happened last week though has utterly taken my breath away.

It appears I was wrong about a small handful of friends. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the incredible outreach that swept over me and my children. Scores of emails from friends, and from people who had never commented on the blog, but had been reading since I was pregnant with Abby, or who had stumbled upon me one day and then spent days going through the years of archives. People who shared stories from their own lives, and who told me I had helped them, or their mom, their sister, their cousin, their daughter, their friend…

For two solid days I sat curled up on my bed and watched my screen fill with beautiful, kind words that made my eyes swim and tears of gratitude splatter down on my keyboard. And it wasn’t only words. The generosity has been inconceivable, and with each gift to my family, however small or grand, came a note, a meaningful exchange of humanity, a sharing of grief or joy or some shard of who we are- and I have tucked them away to keep me warm. My lamp is overflowing.

Because of the kindness of you, (and you and you and you and you….) I can stay in Little House now until I graduate. I can focus on school now, and not worry about being homeless with my children. While I want to believe that was never a possibility, the truth is, I was that vulnerable. Now, I have a small cushion that we can float on while I focus on studying and getting my applications submitted and my essays written.

There is no way for me to ever thank most of you. But your names are etched on my heart, and I have been shown exactly the kind of person I want to be. This is Zion.

15 thoughts on “Floating to the Surface

  1. I’m so happy and relieved for you! We can now all breathe and relax, knowing you have been pulled back from the edge of the cliff. Good luck with the rest of the semester, you have so much to do!

  2. I am surprised, though I am not sure why, at how Heavenly Father provides opportunities to be angels to each other. While it felt like the ground was being pulled out from under you, causing more stress than any of could understand, He really was guiding others an opportunity to provide service to a friend, truly in need. Through the years I try to remember never to doubt the path Heavenly Father has us on. While it might be dark, BLACK even, when we take that first step, it is moving in faith that guides us ultimately to the light. This service offered to your family would have never be able had you stayed on support from the church. Heavenly Father had a greater plan at hand.
    Though the path can be dark, and the path is VERY DIFFERENT for everyone, we need to remember there is always light at the end. Even when, especially when, we don’t understand why we have to travel the path.
    I am so glad you feel a bit of solid ground under you again. Focus on yourself and your kids. The rest will work out (who knows how, but HE does!).
    Continued love and prayers!
    Love you lots!

  3. One thing I’m struck by is your willingness to put your experiences out there for all of us to witness. I’ve shared some pretty personal stuff online in the Segullah blog, and it’s terrifying — putting something raw and throbbing out there for public display, but more often than not, you find those who have walked a similar path or at the very least are touched by your experience. You make connections with people you’ve never met face-to-face because you’re not afraid to share. I think there’s something in all of us that wants to be connected to something bigger than ourselves, and letting others witness our life’s experiences in such a public form helps to make that connection.

    We have never met face-to-face, but I feel you’re my sister and my friend. I’m so happy to help.

  4. What Andrea said is what struck me. I am grateful to you for opening up and for allowing others into your life. We can’t mourn with those that mourn when we don’t know what the pain or need is.

    Zion includes both, I think — a willingness to serve and a willingness to receive. I’m as moved by the latter in you as I am by the outreach you have experienced. Hearts knit together. And, of course, you have given much over the years in ways that have obviously touched so many. You have such beautiful gifts.

    I also love Kellie’s thoughts.

    God bless you and your little family and your little house and your big goals. :)

    Thank you for this post.

  5. beautiful post, tracy. i echo what ray said – you have been a blessing to many people without knowing it, and it’s your turn to be blessed. my prayers are with you and your kids.

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