While I was running...

So, today I went for a run. I came home from school (only teachers say that they go to school instead of work), watched a crazy chick flick movie, facebooked, and then really felt lame. So, the crazy thought came to me. Go on a run. So I did it. I put on my running shoes- good thing I was already in my pajamas and it's a good thing my pajamas are essentially running clothes-and I went.

The first block was incredible, I felt great the air felt incredible- chilly and fresh, and I felt totally on top of the world. After six blocks, I felt truly humbled. My ears hurt from the cold, my lungs were burning, my arms and shoulders were incredibly tight, and my legs were so heavy I even tripped a couple times. So, whenever you're feeling really sorry for yourself, go for a run. It will remind you of how far you truly have to go.

The good news is, my best thinking comes when I am running and here it is. Running today served as a little personal interview with myself, and while people always tell me to not be so hard on myself, I beg to differ. I am all about mercy- a huge proponent of it, because therein lies the only hope. I am also a huge proponent of justice. This is why I am a latter-day saint, because in the gospel of good news lies the perfect reconciliation of the two laws. Because, to take from the story of the child who wanted the bicycle. She worked as hard as a child can and then realized that she would never have enough money to buy a bicycle. So her Dad looked at her, wiped her tears away and said, "Give me all you have, and a big hug and kiss, and I will pay the rest." So yes, while the Atonement was made so we could be saved, it is not by grace alone. We still have to pay our 95 cents for the 80 dollar bicycle. He doesn't need it so much in terms of dollars and cents, but in the sense that he needs our heart to be in the right place. For my heart to be in the right place, sometimes I need to realize how intently I need my Savior because I am so far off. So I was thinking about the people in my life and how I don't pray for them enough. I got to thinking about a scripture in the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 33:3, the last little part of the verse. He is talking about how he is a good speaker, not a good writer, because the spirit is able to take what he says and carry it into the hearts of men, but his people cast away what is written because they have hardened their hearts and the spirit can't reach them. And he writes, "But I, Nephi, have written what I have written, and I esteem it as of great worth, and especially unto my people. For I pray continually for them by day, and mine eyes water my pillow by night, because of them; and I cry unto my God in faith, and I know he will hear my cry." I was thinking about this scripture and trying to remember the last time or even the first time that I have ever cried for someone else. When I have been compassionate enough to truly cry for someone else's pain- not only because it reminded me of my own, and it was really difficult for me because I don't think I have.

I think it is time that I cry for someone else, instead of myself. So, I will start by more earnestly praying for them.

After my humbling run, I was feeling a bit weird. Not sad necessarily, but empty and reminiscent of happier times. I was kind of just sitting in this feeling, soaking it up- getting a little deeper into it (not a good thing) when I thought that I should call an old roommate. A mentor really. One of those happenstance meetings that changes your life. I hadn't talked to her in years literally, and so I felt a little resistant to this idea because what was I going to say? But, I did it. I called her, and we had a good conversation. She began crying- not very far into the call- and continued to cry for most of the good forty minutes we talked saying she was glad I called because she was having a hard time. Why? She teaches at the MTC and she was teaching a missionary who two years had come to the MTC and returned home, and was back again for the second time, and just today went back home. She was having a hard time because of the this young man's pain and was feeling sorrow because she didn't feel she had done enough to help him. Wow. It is not only running that has humbled me today. So who needed that phone call more, her or me?

While I was talking to her I was reminded of a fabulous quote by Mother Teresa, that is something that I hold on to nowadays (I feel like a wise old grandmother using that word "nowadays," I like it, it's a charming word-romantic even). "We should ask ourselves, "Have I really experienced the joy of loving?" True love is love that causes us pain, that hurts, and yet brings us joy. That is why we must pray and ask for the courage to love." My soul responds to this quote in a way I can't quite describe because it is true. There is the age old question, "Is it better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all?" Sometimes, I truly wonder if it is better sometimes, and why does this weak mortal wonder that? BECAUSE it hurts SO much, that I question the worth... when really this quote explains to me that it is because is hurts so much that I know that it truly has and is and will be worth it to love as I have (and more to come). SO my answer to the question is yes, it is better because in the end it will be worth it. Pain has more value than we realize. I tend to think that God doesn't hurt... but that just can't be because he loves more deeply than I can even comprehend and so his sorrow is just as uncomprehendable.

Along the lines of this thought is another moment of truth that came to me as I went to the Temple a couple weeks ago. It had been a busy and wonderful day, and I sat in the temple and kind of looked down at me from a high view point and I was amused at the interesting perspective I gained. Because I thought when I was married and when I was with Michael that I could never be happier-I truly honestly and deeply felt that, probably because is was the happiest I had been in my life, and then since his passing I have felt that I will never feel greater pain, sorrow or sadness. Yet, the truth is this. You will be happier, Natalie, and you will be sadder (more sad). How often in the moment I paint my day as the ending to my story instead of the beginning that it is. I look down instead of up, backward instead of forward. I do want to take a moment to validate a couple things. The pain and joy you experience during the day is significant and it isn't helpful to write it off because of what is to come. When I haven't taken the time to be present in my journey, I have had to take far more time down the road to re-visit it.

I will end this rambling post with words to live by. Thomas S. Monson - "The future is only as bright as your faith."

Pontificating

Gods ways are not our ways, and his thoughts are not our thoughts. The irony of all ironies is that to truly allow that phrase to cut through all the pain and lonliness to where that truth brings comfort and illuminates the shadows of our veiled minds takes a perspective that is not of this world. It takes humility, faith, and cheerfully enduring. Not false cheer, mind you- but truly a jolly outlook.

Because from a mortally flawed human perspective, whether you have all several options except for the one that planned for or one the option that you sacrificed everything to pursue that is showing no signs of promise; whether your loss is public or private; whether you are young or old- the experience is an every day battle. The pain is too great, the restrictions too binding, the way is too difficult, too lonely, and the moments of happinesses too fleeting.

The bottom line for me has been, a sentence of wisdom from the mouth of one widow to another. "There comes a point when you realize that it really is up to you and God." That the greatest gift that mankind has- the ability to choose for himself- unlocks the spiritual power that is ours when we decide that we want our ways to be Gods way. It isn't just one single decision that will change our lives or our hearts, or even a life-long moment by moment renewal of desire- though it involves both of these steps- because even that would fail because we fall short. The key lies in sincere repentance, the humility to listen instead of talk, and the courage to act when all present motivation flees.

Confused

Life is a series of learning to let go. I've said this before, and I'll say it again. I feel like I am just along for the ride many times, as soon as I say outloud that life is good and that I am happy (because I really am for a minute, for a day, for a week) I find myself plunged back into the water again. I feel as though I am treading water in a wave pool, that I can't reach the bottom just barely staying above the waves.

I find that after a particulary significant spiritual experience in my life when I know without a shadow of a doubt of the reality of the atonement, the blessings of the gospel, and the strength that the spirit gives us in our lives-then comes "reality" it seems like, when really perhaps this isn't reality at all, but the adversary coming in on cue.

It is so difficult. This journey.

I am worried that I am forgetting. That I am losing Michael. While he was living his presence was tangible and life-changing for me, and just after his death I was just as affected by the affect this had on my life. Now, though he is part of me, I sometimes suprise myself by how easily I forget the little things-that maybe you could say are unimportant- like that the fact that he loved smoothies and how many we made and ate together last summer. I haven't had a homemade smoothie since. I forget what he would tell me. Situations come where I really just want to know his opinoin, I wish he was by my side experiencing what I was experiencing to give me feedback. We had such wonderful communication, and now that is no longer it seems. He is my greatest friend and I miss him.

I made taco soup today, and he would have loved it. He would have basked in his tastebuds and blessed my name for making him dinner. He would tell me about things that brought him joy during the day, or things that frustrated him. How I want to know how he is. I remember the last time I spoke with him on the phone, just talking with him on the phone didn't seem enough. I wanted him to come home so soon because one day without him seemed unbearable. Now, what I would give for a minute to speak to him again, or to even know what he is thinking.

It doesn't seem right that I can live without him, because I surely don't want to. But here I am to stay, to bless others lives apparently... when mostly I just feel to be a burden.