I've been training for a half marathon, outside, since January. It has been inspiring to note the slow transition of winter back to spring as the temperatures creep up and the earth begins to unveil more and more of her rich colors.
Each week, I recognize a few more songbirds in the surrounding trees as various patches of green have been pushing their way up through the earth. Needless to say, I've been watching the slant of the sun start it's yearly trek to a more northern position in the sky with great anticipation.
Wanting to take advantage of the morning light, I went for a run last Saturday along the Spanish Fork River bottoms. It is one of my favorite places to be. Chickadees and Red-winged blackbirds trilled domestic nothings to their mates in the trees. I met a robin singing "Chir up, cheerily" for the first time this year. It was such a pleasant morning.
And then on top of it all, I could momentarily smell the spring air for the first time in 10 years.
For about a half mile I ran down the path between two opposing fields and all was quiet. No one else was around. The distant sound of a jet flying on the opposite end of the valley, and traffic from far away roads, were all muffled and separate from this place in time. It felt like a sacred moment. I savored every minute; breathing, remembering. It felt so impossibly good to fill my sinus cavity with air. To feel the space of it inside my head.
First, a hint of smoke from some burning weeds on an adjacent hill, thick and woodsy. Then the air; fresh and full of the month of March. I could smell the wind! When I was a child, I sometimes noticed it, trailing its way in on our cat when she'd streak inside from her outdoor adventures.
It was magnificent. Each distinct smell was like another gift, an impossible secret full of surprise. Something I was privy to as an experience disjointed from the every day. I began to count each burst of recognition: the earthy richness of broken dirt, black willows and cottonwood trees next to the river. It was enthralling.
I couldn't help but think about all of the people who currently live, or have lived with some sort of physical limitation. Many who carefully tuck the weight of it away from the world and press forward in every way they can. I thought of those who struggle with mental or emotional burdens, of ALL OF US in our varied humanity that seek for hope and healing in very specific ways.
There in the middle of this field that was beginning to birth another season of Spring, these words from Alma came to mind "The soul shall be restored to the body, and the body to the soul; yea, and every limb and joint shall be restored to its body; yea, even a hair of the head shall not be lost; but all things shall be restored to their proper and perfect frame."
Even the hair on their heads! I don't know why that seems so surprising when I see evidence of it displayed on the earth year after year. I'm constantly reminded that the details are remembered and measured by God--details important to us.
Matthew tells us in the New Testament that the Son of God is come "to save that which was lost." I believe this encompasses the little things like my lost sense of smell, all the way up to more complicated things like estranged relationships, broken dreams, death, and my own lost soul.
In this simple moment I felt so much joy in just being able to smell. I started to imagine what it would be like to see everyone I love with a perfect body. To be able to communicate and interact with each other from a place of wholeness and without separation. I thought of my cousin, Garth, who's complete personality and intellect were veiled behind the cloak of Autism. I can't wait to hear the jokes he's been bursting to tell. It will be a reality someday. It is another impossible gift that really moves me to humility.
Though I struggle to communicate my feelings for the Savior with any profound insight, I know he lives. I've felt his love for me and his help in my progress to do every good thing. He is the reason we can experience joy, now and in the future; the reason we can have life and find it more abundantly. I love him. I want to know him better. For this I celebrate today and always.
