Repentant

As I lie in bed now, unable to go to sleep before writing, the darkness is calming, the sound of crickets reminds me of the gratitude I have forgotten the past while.

I have not gotten weak this week. Not once.

This is the first time in a while.

Tonight I shot some baskets and thought about the fact that I was running between shots, picking up my missed baskets, because let's be real, I really didn't make too many. I was thinking about the fact that my muscles have the accuracy to aim to shoot now. I wondered about tennis. Last time I tried to play, back in May, I felt that hitting the ball was like trying to knock a thousand pound metal object into the sky with one flimsy arm. I reflected on swimming laps. The last time I was in the pool before last night was in April, when  I still planned on running a 5k in May. All I could do was walk back and forth in the lane. It was difficult for me to balance, and I only lasted for a couple of lengths before needing to stop. Last night, I was in the pool for a total of 7 minutes. My legs and arms worked a little slower today than usual, but I was not spaghetti- and I was successful in exercising enough to get my heart rate up. In between shots tonight, I thought about how light my arms feel as I continually lifted them and dropped them, and I reflected on that first moment when the weakness hit- when I couldn't seem to lift my arm to shake the Elder's hands who had just given me a blessing back in January.

I haven't been myself this week. I have had a hard time knowing that I am meeting new people, but am unable to give them everything that is me. I find happiness in activity- in complete involvement in everything I do. I love playing sports, even though no one would venture to call me a more than mediocre athlete. I love spending time with friends. Most of all I love to run.

I have had to measure my energy, on a scale that doesn't seem to have consistency or mercy. If I push too far, I am out of the game for days- that is what happened to me over the weekend and into the beginning of this week. I required 12 hours of sleep every 24 hours period, I was unable to stand at the football game on Saturday, and I had to turn down friend after friend. Monday night, I had to say no to a couple of games of basketball. As unimpressive as I am at that sport, I love to play it, and I felt like I missed out on an opportunity to build new relationships. And after running around the block last Tuesday and being less than my best for three days afterwards, I knew I couldn't venture out to run again.

I felt trapped. I felt sad. I didn't want to talk to anyone- I couldn't be myself anyways, because I was tired. I stopped eating enough, which meant that I got weaker.

And then I snapped back.

What am I doing with the opportunity the Lord has given me?

What am I doing with the testimony that I gained, the promise that I made Him with all of my heart that Sunday as I took the sacrament in a hospital bed, the promise that I would TRUST Him forever, no matter what?

My friend dropped me off tonight, not too late, maybe about 11:00. But I couldn't go to bed. I had to run. So I did- I didn't run far. Just far enough to reach a parking lot that was lit. I sat on a curb, and prayed. And then to my mind came the reference "Alma 36." As I read, I was humbled.

In the chapter, Alma, a prophet, testifies to his son Helaman that those who put their trust in God will be supported in their trials. My heart hurt as I realized how God has supported me in my own this year. I have not been alone as I have moved to Provo. Yet here I was, sad and disheartened and forgetting to just trust and wait. Alma then talks to Helaman about his testimony- about how he knows that God and Christ are real. He says, "And I would not that ye think that I know of myself--not of the temporal but of the spiritual, not of the carnal mind but of God." And I remembered how powerfully God has used this trial this year to teach me, to teach my Spirit, about His love for me, and about His plan for me. By trapping my spirit for a moment inside my body, he has set it free on wings of a testimony that burns within me- a testimony that I shall carry with me for the rest of eternity.

I continued to read and ponder. And then I saw one more thing. As Alma describes his pain and misery at the sins he committed, I began to feel ashamed and sickened that I had forgotten the Lord, and disregarded His blessings as burdens. Alma talks about how exquisite his pain was, but how sweet his joy was in contrast once he was forgiven. He lists the different blessings from the Lord, how he received "strength in his limbs" and "was delivered from death itself."

I bowed my head and offered a silent, repentant prayer.

I have been delivered from not just physical death this year but spiritual misery as well. The Lord has healed more than my body this year. He has healed my heart, and my soul. And when all seemed lost, and by allowing my heart to be shattered, He stepped into my life in a way and left an eternal imprint on my soul that has changed me forever. He feels familiar, not foreign. He feels like someone I have always known.

I am so grateful to be here. I am so grateful for the people that the Lord has placed in my path that have lifted me up, and been here to support me, even if I feel that I don't need it. I am grateful for the family I have been given, for a mother who dropped everything she was doing and flew across the country when her baby's life was in danger. I am grateful for a father who pushes me, and who tells me I am beautiful and helps me believe in myself. I am grateful for siblings who see my eternal worth, and help me to relax when I need it. And I am grateful for a God who has inspired prophets throughout history to write words that teach me how to live my life, and how to endure well. Because if we must pass through storms, why simply endure? Why not enjoy them- and learn to trust in the God who created the path to guide us through them? He will bear up our burdens- He will deliver those who keep his commandments. He will not leave us comfortless. I testify that even when we feel like we are left comfortless, we are not alone. It is our faith that determines how close we can get to Heaven- our stubbornness to believe in Him no matter what others tell us.

I will stand, forever, as a witness of God. Will you?

And if you have not been doing so, will you be brave enough to come back?

He is waiting.

Let Him in.