Jesus and Bono

Warning: religious content. If you are offended by religious discussions, you may not want to read this post.

If you know me, you know that I’m not particularly religious. I’m not someone who will say, “Amen” or “praise God” in the middle of the sentence. It’s just not for me, and honestly, it also makes me a little uncomfortable. I also do not find it necessary to thank god for everything that we have or eat or whatever. I’ve struggled with the concept of “Gods gifts” for a long time because I had a difficult childhood, and it bothers me that as much as I prayed, things never really got better. It seemed that nothing made a difference, which is incredibly distressing to a child.

Anyway, only recently did I ever feel that there was a divine guiding power in my life. Perhaps it’s always been my intuition, or my conscience, but I’d spent nearly thirty years ignoring it. I’ve heard people talk about hearing Gods voice and personally, I never believed it. I don’t care how much you can save a person or how much you say that you pray, or how much you contribute to your church. Unless you’re truly a good person, it seemed so cynical to me.

And then back in April, I had a particularly awful day. One of my children was diagnosed with something that bothered me so much that I was afraid to tell anyone. Very few people know that my child and I spent three months of appointments several days a week to correct a problem that actually was present at birth. Every time I saw my child, I saw what I felt to be an imperfection, and as amazingly beautiful as my child was and still is, this imperfection glared at me like a scarlet letter. I knew that I was going to get this diagnosis before I went to the appointment, but it still hurt so bad to see it in writing. It took two days before I finally gave up, and could not control my emotions or hide my secrets any longer. I was taking a shower and I started crying uncontrollably. For forty-five minutes I cried, asking “why?” and questioning everything imaginable. And suddenly a song popped into my head out of nowhere. It was “hero” by Mariah Carey. I can’t stand Mariah Carey, and yet the chorus was running though my head, repeating on a track. “And then a hero comes along With the strength to carry on And you cast your fears aside And you know you can survive So when you feel like hope is gone Look inside you and be strong And you'll finally see the truth That a hero lies in you.” I stopped crying as suddenly as I started and for the first time in my life, felt that perhaps this was Gods way of speaking to me. God can’t get through to me because I refuse to listen, but since I never stop singing or listening to music, god is putting messages to me through that channel instead. I truly believe now that I do have Gods support, but only in a format that only I can understand.

Which leads me to Bono. When I started running, I found it to be a tremendous stress-reliever. Don’t get me wrong, I hate running, but it’s nice to get out of the house, have a moment away from the kids and just enjoy life. I struggle with my personal space and freedom and tend to feel so isolated or so busy with everyone else, that I tend to feel neglected. Running allows me to be alone, and focus solely on myself, which is an interesting learning experience at the very least. One day, I grabbed a stack of cd’s to upload onto my iPod. I put on my favorite music and ran off. For weeks, I ran to Regina Spektor or Sarah McLachlan and was so happy trotting along in my own little world. The morning of the Zoo Run was so chaotic, that I didn’t sync my iPod correctly and was running to U2 instead of my “girls.” I freaked out, because I thought I would lose my pace, but I couldn’t start it over because it would reset my mileage. I was going to have to run the entire 10K to music that I’d never ran to. It sounds trivial, but I’m a creature of habit.

“Sunday, Bloody, Sunday” came on. I laughed out loud because it was a Sunday, and here I was busting my butt for no reason. It was a bloody Sunday. During that run, though, the music just seemed to connect with me. Instead of just listening to the music, I was focusing on the lyrics, and it seemed that every time that I was ready to give up, a song would come on with some type of inspirational message which was completely and totally intended for me. More times than I could count, the sun would shine so bright that it was painful to see and forced me to just keep going, but my music would get stronger, and the message louder; at the halfway point (my farthest distance) “Surrender” when I was struggling to keep up with Adam, I told him to go ahead, “I will follow” came on. My power song, “Desire” came on right about 9K. I had a burst of energy and even beat Adam through the finish line.

These little moments happened repeatedly though yesterday’s half marathon. Again, the sun would burn onto my face & shoulders and blind my eyes, and I found peace and meaning in “Pride, “With or Without You” and “The Unforgettable Fire.” So I did it. I listened when the sun blared, and found strength and determination in the lyrics. “Surrender” is still particularly meaningful to me, as is “Hero” (though I still can’t stand Mariah Carey!) But I’ve finally found my inner peace and realized that my God is in my iPod. And you know what?

Well yes I’m still running!!!