Often, it’s not until life begins to spin out of control that we can see the things holding it all together. Tracy’s mom always knew he was special. She had a premonition—before he was even born—that he would be a musician, and as Tracy grew up she made sure to fill the home with music. Every year she gave him a new instrument to try. But the piano was the one instrument that seemed to be in every gospel song he grew up listening to, so when Tracy first sat down at the keys, he felt at home. Meanwhile, his actual home became increasingly filled with conflict, and Tracy found himself looking for reasons to get out of the house and navigate his way between two very different worlds. One world was the church, where his heart and his talent with music always had a place. The other world was on the streets of Chicago’s south side, where he felt the freedom to make his own decisions and determine his own destiny. But when his choices began to spiral out of control, Tracy found himself wondering what things stayed steady. The piano had been in every song he grew up listening to—underneath it, undergirding it, often in the background—and Tracy began to see something underneath his whole life, always present, always at work, holding it all together.