Succor

I was taught long ago that the meaning of the word succor is "to run to." Later on, I learned that the root from which our English succor comes means not only that, but "to go beneath, run to help." As I learned this more specific meaning of the term, I immediately appreciated the imagery of being held up from underneath and kept from falling.

I had a tangible experience with being succored in this way some years ago. As part of a group of adults on a wilderness trek, I participated in an activity which resulted in me finding myself in a precarious situation.

The trek in which I was involved was organized as a series of games and activities meant to engender cooperative fellowship and greater self-awareness. The assigned tasks which my group were asked to undertake were approached seriously and performed with exactness. The particular activity which I mentioned above involved transferring each member of the group across a low area of ground which was designated as a pit of fire. We were to imagine that the ground over which we were crossing was molten lava or some equivalent danger, so that we must absolutely not touch down under any circumstances.

At some point in this exercise, a cable was stretched across the dry riverbed which served as our fiery hollow, and I volunteered to made my way across on it and perform the task which was needed on the other side in order to enable my companions to also cross over. I began my mission with enthusiasm, my arms and legs wrapped around the wire, inching along bit by bit. Tiring quickly as I moved along, however, as I neared the midway point of my journey I realized that I was in serious trouble. It was clear to me that I did not have enough strength to move myself all the way across the abyss. Halfway across, suspended in the air, my arms had become so weakened by my previous efforts that it was all I could do to barely hold on. I was utterly incapable of moving forward or backward to save myself.

As the group called out expressions of encouragement to me from their place on the riverbank, I whimpered back, "I can't move anymore. I'm not strong enough. I can't go on." I wrapped my worn out arms and legs as tightly as I could and shut my eyes. My mind was devoid of any possible solution. I felt helpless and alone, with no hope for pulling myself out of the situation.

Suddenly, I felt large hands and strong arms lifting me down from the air. One of the group had plunged into the pit to rescue me. He was a tall man, the largest of the party, who had been so quiet that he was a stranger to me in spite of our many hours together. As he set me down on firm ground, he humbly turned to the cheering crowd on the banks and quietly stated, "Well, I couldn't just let her fall."

I learned that day what it truly means to be succored.

I learned again yesterday about the term. My visit to the psychiatrist two days ago left me discouraged and emotionally drained. His responses to my needs were to do more of the same things I have been doing and then some. I was to switch, once again, my antidepressant. I was to visit one doctor for one problem and another for another, and a third for something else again. I was to apply more time to the process and continue the plodding course I have been so long experiencing.

My depressed state plunged as low as it had ever been. By the time I got home I was overwhelmed and incapable of any further forward movement. Exhausted and spent, I was immobilized and barely holding on, just as when I was out on that cable. Again there seemed to be no way out for me, but this time it was no game. The fiery emotional pit looming under me was real. I longed for someone who could run to me and go beneath me and hold me up and help me out. I needed to be truly succored.

Yesterday, the help came. As I sensed the reality of friends on the banks cheering me on through their prayers in my behalf, I simultaneously experienced family members gathering to offer the succor I craved. Probing conversations ensued, ideas came forth, new hope was aroused. As the day ended, I felt impressed to employ an easily manageable change of focus as I fish for answers to my problems, much like simply moving my nets from one side of my boat to the other (see John 21:3-6).

I believe that the Priesthood Blessing I recently received is taking effect, that the prayers of kind and caring friends are being answered, that family love and inspiration are exerting their power. I feel that stronger arms are carrying me from a precarious place. I know that my Savior is near me and empathizes with my plight. I know that I am being succored.

I have hope again for brimming nets and celebratory times. Thank you to all of you who have contributed to this rescue. I believe that prayers have been heard and answered.

Thank you to this photographer for the picture of the support beam.