Blessings

Have you ever experienced muscle fatigue? Maybe you exercised longer than intended and it left you feeling exhausted. Maybe you ran further than normal and your muscles protested. Maybe you sat in an awkward position and when you moved, the muscles felt sore and stiff. Have your muscles ever ached to the point that you couldn't move and that you could literally feel the lactic acid building up? If so, you'll be more apt to understand what I went through over the weekend.

I was able to be a part of a wonderful show put on by the Ogden LDS Institute. It was about our great country: The United States of America. I am the head accompanist for the audition choir and therefore am entrusted with most of the harder music. I am thrilled to be able to play pieces that challenge my skills and allow them to expand further. On the piano and off, Heavenly Father has blessed me more than I ever thought possible. I was thinking the other day (Hopefully this doesn't sound too weird.) that there are many people in the world who are arrogant. They excel in specific areas and they know it; which means they flaunt it. My thought was that I could easily become very conceited. But the fact is that I know who has given me those talents and who could simply take them away. I've been humbled many, MANY times. The only thing I have done is try to increase what I've been given (which is more than I can even begin to describe) through practice, dedication, hard work, frustration, blood, sweat, tears, you name it. How can I be arrogant when I can't take the credit? Heavenly Father deserves the credit for everything I have, everything that I am. This weekend, I was literally brought to my knees. It is a very personal experience, but I feel that I should share. Not the intimate details, mind you, but the building of my testimony of a loving Father in Heaven and a loving brother, Jesus Christ. Ultimately, I want to share how my faith has been tried and increased.

Those of you who know me will attest that I do things whole heartedly. So when I learn a piece of music for choir, I'm going to expect the best of myself and therefore work towards perfection (Not that it's ever reached. I make mistakes all over the place.). As I wrote earlier, I play most of the harder, or should I say more demanding, pieces of music. Those of you who play the piano may know this feeling; there are certain songs that require more than just your hands. They require your entire body which is the same as saying they are physically demanding to play. This show was full of those types of songs. Patriotic songs are triumphant and consequently require immense, loud chords; chords that assist the words in filling the very soul with patriotism. I have small hands (my widest span is an octave) and these chords necessitate that they constantly be spread as far as they are capable. If you've ever spread your fingers out as far as possible and stayed like that for an extended period of time, you'll know that your hand starts to ache and you begin to feel a burning in your forearm. Your fingers inevitably become stiff and refuse to bend. Then the wrists join in the rebellion.

Thursday night was our Dress Rehearsal. I went home exhausted and I awoke feeling that I hadn't slept. I don't enjoy waking up more tired than when I go to sleep. Sadness, frustration, anger and fear plagued me the entire day. I knew I needed help releasing those feelings, so I asked my brother if he would give me a priesthood blessing (I know some of my blog reading friends are not LDS, so let me explain what a priesthood blessing is. In my church, it is a blessing given by a Priesthood holder, by the laying on of hands and by inspiration, to one who is sick or otherwise in need of special counsel, comfort, or healing.). I experienced an immediate release and enjoyed a wonderful performance. Afterwards, I began developing the sore, stiffness that comes from playing the piano long and hard. I was a little worried about the next day (Since we had two performances instead of one) but I figured a good night's sleep would do the trick.

I awoke sore and still stiff. I put heat on my hands and arms and I even took some Ibuprofen to ease the muscle tension. The Saturday Matinee was difficult. My hands were not cooperating the way I expected and I was increasingly becoming more frustrated. At the end of the matinee, my arms began uncontrollably shaking. I blew it off thinking I just needed to eat lunch. After I ate, the shaking got worse. The muscles in my arms were so fatigued that they were experiencing involuntary spasms. I could feel each individual muscle in my arms. It sounds weird, but it felt like the muscle fibers were pulling apart. I no longer had any strength in my arms or hands. I panicked. How was I supposed to play for another show that required SO much of my physical strength when all of my strength was gone? I fled outside, found a patch of grass, fell to my knees, and yes…I sobbed. "Why is this happening? What should I do? What can I do? I feel so weak. I received a blessing and I can't even last 24 hours? Am I SO lacking in faith? I know that at this state I won't be able to play. How do I get through this? What am I supposed to do?" I finally stopped the tears and went back inside (still doubting and fearful). I don't like people to see me cry. It makes me appear weak and I hate showing others my weaknesses. Well, it was then that a bunch of my friends decided they wanted to talk to me (and my blotchy, tear stained face). Finally, I was rescued by several of my close friends. One of them wrapped me in a hug that opened the flood gates and I started sobbing…again.

We decided to head back and get ready when our director walked past. I specifically didn't want him to see me. He had mentioned a couple weeks earlier that he didn't want to wear me out and I told him not to lighten my load seeing as this is my last show with the Institute. Well, He saw me, stopped, and asked if I was okay. I couldn't lie to him. He's like a father to me. I waited for the "I knew it" speech and instead he said, "Let's fix that. Let's find a young man in a suit and give you a blessing." And so the seven of us went to his small, cramped office and I received another priesthood blessing. It was very sacred and personal (those parts I will not share), but also unlike any blessing I've ever heard. He hesitated slightly and then began to give specific instructions on what I was to do. "When you get there, go to the kitchen and get two towels. Soak them in cold water and wrap them around your arms for 5 to 10 minutes. This may sound strange and simple, but it will start to soothe your muscles. Then, during and before the show, find a place backstage and lie down. Allow yourself to breath. Relax and let the tension leave your body." It was so simple and also so specific. With the help of my four friends, I followed the instructions implicitly. I am truly blessed and grateful to have friends that will stick with me through bad and good times. They even missed a testimony meeting for me.

So what happened? I still felt weak and exhausted…until I started playing the first number. I felt my muscles fill with a strength that was not my own. The stiffness was loosed. I felt my mind become more focused. The interesting thing is that between numbers, the tension returned to a smaller degree and the muscle spasms returned. But the minute I started performing, they left and I was able to play without any problems. The second I released the final chord, all the aching returned and my hands quit working. I awoke the next day unable to move my arms. But Heavenly Father blessed me above and beyond what I expected. This experience taught me that faith truly is an action. I was given specific directions and I know that the outcome would have been completely different had I not followed the counsel I received. Because of my obedience and the faith of myself and others, I was given the greatest ending of my years as an accompanist. I had given everything I had and I didn't have enough and so a loving Father in Heaven gave me His strength when I had none. Isn't that the epitome of the atoning sacrifice of the Savior? We give all we can and then He does the rest.