This is a post about my family fasting for me. Titles are hard.

Read this one to the end. It's scattered and confusing, but the end is what matters.

My weekend was very interesting.  Friday began as usual, then rapidly descended into so much homework and projects that I didn't end up leaving my house until 9 pm. So all of this might have happened sooner had I not been so consumed with homework that I almost literally didn't have space in my head for emotion.

Saturday is when the real story begins. I woke up with a general sense of ennui. I fixed my breakfast and went back to bed for a few hours, trying to escape the clamor of my roommates making breakfast for their various and noisy love interests. I read my book for awhile (Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez. Dense but interesting), got out of bed, cleaned the kitchen, showered etc., but all with a looming fear or anger or something hanging over my head. It finally hit at about four in the afternoon. I lost myself in angst. Everything set off my rage and loneliness.

It was about this time that my mom called to simply tell me that my family was fasting for me the next day. She said that they knew that I needed a boost and was feeling depressed and they wanted to help. At that, she closed the conversation and hung up.  The feelings of angst lifted a bit. I drove into town, found a place to read my book, and spent the evening in vague contentment. The raincloud that was hanging over my head had lifted a bit and sun was beginning to spill through ever so slightly. It was still a grey day, but there was promise of sun tomorrow.


This morning, after a night of Coke Zero and reading and preparing a Gospel Doctrine lesson and 30Rock, I awoke on top of the world. I dressed for church in a bowtie my dear friend made for me, a reminder of how wonderful people can be and how blessed I am. Sacrament meeting went well; I even bore my testimony of my Heavenly Father's love for each of us, including me.  I was surprised by that, as anyone who knows me knows my testimony is shaky at best. But there it was! And my Sunday school lesson went well. I went into Priesthood ready to learn about family history, my tail wagging as fast as ever.

And then, not five minutes into the lesson, my breathing became labored and shallow. I began to black out and there was an intense tightness in my chest. I left class and sat in the foyer for a moment before deciding to walk home. If I was going to have an episode, I wanted to have it in private. I got in bed and lay there in silence, listening to my breathing get faster and faster before I passed out.

I awoke later and felt every ounce of sadness from the prior two days (weeks? months?) on my mind. I cried silently in my bed. How was this happening today? How, on this fast Sunday when everyone I loved was fasting for me? How, on this day when I tried to focus on others by fasting for my aunt and cousins, was I so consumed with my own grief, in spite of my best efforts and the efforts of the rest of my family? I began a prayer, but all I could say was offer thanks for my family's love and ask for a blessing on my aunt.

After an hour or so, I got out of bed and broke my fast before attending tonight's CES fireside. The food in my stomach improved my mood considerably and on the walk to the fireside, my roommates and I laughed and joked and enjoyed the sunny day. We sat down, the fireside began, and suddenly, the breathing. I held it together this time and enjoyed the fireside as best I could. Afterward, I went for a walk instead of going home. I spent time on the Rexburg temple grounds, touching the temple walls and trying to let them touch me back. Little flutters of inspiration came, but punctuated with thick clouds of worry and self-doubt. What was I doing? What path was I on, and was it the right one? After a few more minutes, I turned my feet towards my apartment.

After getting home, I compulsively checked my e-mail and found something from my pregnant sister-in-law. I'm not being trite when I say that I love all my siblings and in-laws equally, but she has always occupied a soft spot in my heart, while simultaneously being something of a tough nut to crack. I've never received an e-mail from her, so I practically jumped on my mouse to open it.

She told me about our family fast for me. She said that since she's pregnant, she tried to think of other ways to fast since she couldn't go without food for the day. Instead, she gave up sugar and treats for two weeks. This was a huge gesture from her; cookies and candy are practically a food group for her, her waifish figure to suggest otherwise. And yet, she gave up the food she loved for two weeks, for me. She told me repeatedly how much she loved me, offered me sincere encouragement and advice, and closed her letter with a quiet "I love you."

That simple three-word phrase was the emotional straw that broke the camel's back and I instantly erupted into tears. Today, my family fasted for me. Even my pregnant sister-in-law found a way (and a more meaningful way, I think) to fast specifically for my happiness. In that moment, their fast became real to me. All of a sudden, the broken heart I'd been tending for three weeks melted away somewhat. The scholastic concerns and religious conflicts and social fears began to fade. What mattered was my family's sacrifice for me.

I'm not naïve enough to think that all of those concerns are gone for good. There is still some mourning and some growth and some work that needs to be done. But tonight, things are okay. I have a family who loves me and wishes me happiness and peace. That makes today a win.

Image source: LDSChurchTemples.com, image copyright Roberta Boice, 2008