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Grace in the Struggle: A Journey of Gratitude
By Nyajuok Tongyik Doluony
If you were to ask my family to describe me, you might hear words like determined, a go-getter, hardheaded, or even loud. But if there’s one word they might not think to use, it’s humbled. Yet today, I stand before you truly and deeply humbled. Humbled by this honor, by this moment, and by the incredible people who have shaped my journey.
To the Midland University and the Alumni Office, thank you for recognizing me with this award. But more importantly, thank you for recognizing the journey of countless others like me—those who come from places unseen, with stories untold. I am one of many, a reflection of the power of hope, grace, and resilience. And I wouldn’t be here today without the people who believed in me long before I knew how to believe in myself.
The story I must share with you today is not a tale of hardship, but rather a testament to the power of education and the grace of those who lift us when we are down.
I was born in a small village in South Sudan and raised in a refugee camp in Ethiopia. There, hope was as rare as food, fuel and energy. Education was a dream, an unattainable luxury. My family and I arrived in America with little more than that dream, holding tightly to the idea that somehow, through hard work and sacrifice, we could build a better future. But the road ahead was far from easy.
When I came to Midland, I was an average student-just another face in the crowd. But behind that face was a young mother working full-time, attending school full-time, and struggling to raise a two-and-a-half-year-old daughter on her own. Every day was a battle to keep my head above water—to balance textbooks with bills, to fighting through exhaustion and fear, grasping onto a future I could barely imagine.
But in those darkest moments, I wasn’t alone. My journey was illuminated by those who saw something in me when I struggled to see it in myself.
To Kellie Johnson, my dear friend, you were my first connection here. We were both single mothers, both balancing school and motherhood, both trying to survive. You understood my struggles because you lived them too. Kellie, your friendship gave me strength on the days when I felt I had none. Thank you for walking this journey with me.
But it wasn’t just friends who lifted me. It was mentors like Diana Moxness, my advisor. Diana, you didn’t just help me apply for a scholarship—you saw my potential when I couldn’t see past my immediate struggles. The day I received that $6,000 scholarship, it wasn’t just a financial award; it was a lifeline. It was proof that someone believed in me enough to invest in my future. And that belief sustained me through so many moments of doubt.
My mother is another reason I stand here today. I remember calling her during a semester when I couldn’t afford my textbooks. I knew she didn’t have the money either, but without hesitation, she gave me her last $570. I still don’t know how a factory worker raising seven children on welfare managed to find that money, but she did. That sacrifice—that moment of love and faith—is what carried me through. Mom, your belief in me has been the foundation of my entire journey. I owe everything to you.
Finally, my father—the man, the myth, and the legend—was more than just a parent. He was a mentor, guiding me with his wisdom and inspiring vision. Three thousand feet above the ground, he instilled in me the importance of dreaming, a lesson that became a lifelong conviction. He said, “Nyator, when we get to America, I want you to go to school and become a banker". His words were not just a plan but a guidance that shaped my education and future. Baba, your mentorship has profoundly impacted my life, and I am deeply grateful.
As I reflect on my time at Midland, I realize it wasn’t just the academic lessons that shaped me. It was the quiet moments of grace—the people who stepped in when I felt like I was falling failing. It was the community of teachers, mentors, and friends who made me realize that even when the path seems impossible, there is always someone willing to help carry the load.
I know that my story—born in a warzone, raised in a refugee camp, married at 14, a mother at 17—is one of adversity. But it is also one of hope. Because no matter how difficult the journey, there were always people who saw me, who reached out a hand, who said, “You can do this.”
To the students here today, I want you to know that your struggles do not define you. What defines you is how you rise above them, and who you choose to become in spite of them. You will face challenges. There will be days when you feel overwhelmed, unsure, and lost. But remember this: you are never alone. There are people who will walk beside you, who will lift you when you fall, and who will believe in you even when you don’t believe in yourself. Lean on them. Let their grace, their kindness, and their faith in you be the foundation upon which you build your dreams.
I stand here today as a reflection of the power of community, of the incredible grace of teachers, friends, and mentors who saw a young woman from a refugee camp and chose to invest in her. And because of them, I am no longer that scared, unsure, young Black single mother. I am a woman who understands the importance of lifting others, of sharing my story, and of giving back the love and support I received.
Today, as I accept this award, I do so not just for myself, but for every person who believed in me. For every teacher who encouraged me, for every friend who stood by me, for my parents who sacrificed for me, and for the mentors who guided me. This award belongs to all of you.
And to Midland University, thank you for being the place where my dreams began to take shape. I leave here filled with gratitude and hope, not only for what I have accomplished but for what each of you can accomplish too. Let this place be where your dreams take flight. You are capable of more than you know, and there are people ready to walk with you every step of the way.
Thank you.
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