I began pondering on the matter at another session of physical therapy - a place I just can't seem to stay away from, for one reason or another - when I was hooked up to an eStem machine, as is often the case when I am there for my appointments.
eStem, for those not familiar with it, is the thing that makes going to physical therapy completely worthwhile. It comes once you've finished biking and lifting weights and doing push-ups and stretching and sweating and grunting and groaning, much like the pumpkin cheesecake dessert after a meal filled with broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and carrot juice (it's good for you, but it doesn't taste too pleasant while you're ingesting it). Electrical pads are attached to your sore spot(s), sending warming electrical vibes and causing increased blood flow, which aids and enhances the process of healing.
Today, in fact, I broke a new personal record on the eStem machine, taking in electricity at the highest possible setting the machine could reach. For 20 minutes per session, you get to sit like this, reading a magazine or (mainly) relaxing, letting the electricity do its thing.
On my way home, though the eStem had been disconnected, the electricity still felt like it was pulsing through me for an additional half-hour. I felt a bit like the Six-Million Dollar Man, or Thor, or at least a toad when it gets struck by lightning.
My pondering evolved into this: The Atonement is a lot like the soothing electricity from an eStem machine. It often doesn't take full effect on us until after we've been through a certain degree of suffering, be it spiritual, physical, mental, or otherwise. But it heals us and remains with us. And, yes, we have to keep going back to it to continue to benefit from it.
Or, as a famous person once said: I don't fully understand God, and I don't fully understand electricity, but I refuse to sit in the dark.
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