Running for My Soul

I love to run. Sometimes I run for my body, and sometimes I run for my soul. No matter which I am running for -- body or soul -- running ultimately affects both. It is my favorite form of connecting with both my physical body, and my spirit. For me it enlivens me like nothing else can. Running is when I receive inspiration, and revelation. 

Today I went on a run specifically for my spirit. Sure, my body came along for the journey too, but my purpose was to exercise my spirit. 

Sometimes when I run, I listen to music. Sometimes, I don't. Today I decided to turn on a Pandora station that would play only uplifting, heavenly, music. I chose the Hilary Weeks station. I have a special love for Hilary, and her music. She was my primary teacher in Alaska, and I would listen to her practice singing and playing the piano in my house. Her music has had a profound influence in my life -- but that is another post entirely. I knew that I could count on this station for really wonderful and inspiring music. 

I was feeling pretty great out there today. I felt good. I have been working out a lot lately, and I am feeling stronger. 

But there was one point, while I was running out in the middle of an open sagebrush area, that I felt so alone. It was so barren, hot, and harsh -- August in Idaho -- the tall grass looked like dry, uncooked, spaghetti noodles. The sun was flaming, and I felt myself growing tired and weary from the heat. I didn't have water with me.  

As I continued forward feeling small and insignificant surrounded by an unpleasant landscape, the song, "His Hands," started to play. It is a song about Jesus. At one point the song describes His hands being pierced, because He let them, because of love. I was familiar with the song, so I knew that powerful part of the song was coming. I thought surely I would not cry, but as soon as the word "pierced" was sung, I lost it. I continued running, but I could barely breathe, I was crying so hard that I was gasping for air. 

My thoughts turned completely to Jesus. 

At that moment, I felt the weight of my sorrow, and even my sins. I felt the weight that I caused the Savior to suffer on my behalf. I could not help but cry out loud, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I continued struggling to catch my breath, grateful that I was alone for my emotional display. 

As I apologized for myself and my imperfect ways, out loud, towards Heaven -- I knew He heard me. 

Not long ago, I was given a priesthood blessing. One of the phrases that caught my attention was that I would come to know, suffer, and understand the loneliness and pain that the Savior felt. I have been terrified to find out what that feels like. As time has gone on, I can see the words of the blessing come to fruition. 

Up until this point in my life, I have never experienced the level of loss and sorrow that I have had to endure, and carry on through. I have read that the death of a loved one -- particularly a spouse -- is the number one trial you can endure in this life. I can testify that it certainly makes it somewhere on the very top of the difficult-to-endure trial list. 

As I was running and experiencing the deep, aching, sorrowful, feelings, I was encouraged to "look up." What I saw was one of the most beautiful displays of the sun and clouds that I have ever seen. It looked simply Heavenly. I felt as though it was a smile from God, just for me. I even stopped running for a moment, and sat on a bench just to enjoy the moment thoroughly. And to express my gratitude to my Heavenly Father for being aware of me, and watching over me. 

When I feel my feelings of sorrow and loneliness, Heavenly Father always swoops-in, and saves me from myself. Sometimes it takes time (even days), and sometimes the response is immediate. But He always comes. 

He allows me to feel the pain, so that I might more fully feel the joy of His Omnipotent light, and love. Without pain, there is no joy. I have these pain-to-joy experiences almost daily now. 

With God's help, I picked myself up from my sorrow, and I continued running. And then a song called, "Sometimes He Lets It Rain," began playing. As soon as the song began, rain fell from a little cloud that seemed to be only right over me. It was sunny outside, with white wispy clouds -- it appeared water was falling from blue sky -- but the rain was freely falling where I was. I put my hands out to catch the raindrops, and my tears fell once again. But this time, they were tears of joy.  It just could not be a coincidence in the timing of the song, and the rain. 

It was no coincidence. Not for me. 

Here are the words to the song… 

Sometimes He Lets It Rain

By Kathryn Nelson 

She sees the storm clouds gather
The sky is turning cold and gray
She knows that something's coming
When she starts to feel this way
She pleads for intervention
But heaven offers no relief
And she would understand if she could only see that

Sometimes He lets it rain
He lets the fierce winds blow
Sometimes it takes a storm
To lead a heart where it can grow
He can move mountains of grief
And oceans of pain
But sometimes he lets it rain

When her heart surrenders 
To the Master in control
Her spirit learns the lessons of the tempest in her soul
When it's no longer raging
She can see how far she's come
Through the wisdom and the mercy of the Son

Sometimes He lets it rain
He lets the fierce winds blow
Sometimes it takes a storm
To lead a heart where it can grow
He can move mountains of grief
And oceans of pain
But sometimes he lets it rain

I knew the song was for me. I knew the rain was for me. 

I know that God loves me, and that He is aware of my life, and my needs. 

I have been walking through some serious rain lately, but I have also felt my heart growing, and surrendering to my Master -- Jesus Christ. I know that this experience is meant to bring me closer to my Savior. It is not that I was not close to Him before, because I was -- but now, well, it is different. I am different. 

I know that I need to walk through this "rain" in order to learn and grow, and to understand Him even better. We are all here for a reason. We all serve a special and unique purpose. I need to walk through the rain in order to become who I am meant to be. I need to walk through trials, so I can become who God needs me to be. 

Without trials I would be a spiritual wimp. 

We all have trials that we experience in this life. Some are more challenging than others, but one thing I have learned is that pain is pain. Whether you experience pain from the loss of a loved one, from divorce, a wayward child, abuse, childlessness, depression, illness, loneliness… whatever the trial is that you face, pain hurts. That ache in your soul from whatever your personal challenges you face -- is as painful for you, as my pain is for me. 

We all have pain, we all have sorrow. 

Jesus not only suffered for our sins, but also for our sorrows. I have felt the healing power of the Atonement in my life, more now than ever. He took upon Himself our sins and sorrows. He knows the pain you suffer. He is the Only One who can truly heal you, and offer relief from your unyielding pain, and heartache.

With Him you can be whole. With Him you are never alone. 

And that is what I was taught on my run for my soul today. 

The rain will fall. Jesus is always there. He can heal you. Healing does not mean He will take your pain away, but He will endure the pain with you. He will carry you through it, if you let Him. If you turn to Him. He can make your burden light. I know what that means now. 

Your trials are making you worthy of Heaven. Endure them well. 

One day you will look back and be grateful for the rain, and even the pain. 

Heaven is worth it. 

I promise. 

“Our Heavenly Father … knows that we learn and grow and become stronger as we face and survive the trials through which we must pass. We know that there are times when we will experience heartbreaking sorrow, when we will grieve, and when we may be tested to our limits. However, such difficulties allow us to change for the better, to rebuild our lives in the way our Heavenly Father teaches us, and to become something different from what we were—better than we were, more understanding than we were, more empathetic than we were, with stronger testimonies than we had before.” - Thomas S. Monson