May 14, 2010
OYAYA
I am back from the dead
BY STEVE DABROWSKI (Office of Youth and Young Adult Ministry)
Sort of.
I should tell you that I have had asthma since before it was common; our family doctor would attribute my chronic visits to “Steven’s Disease.” It wasn’t until I was a teenager that the condition was accurately diagnosed, and I began treatment with Dr. Houser, the asthma specialist for the U.S. Olympic Swim Team. His ideology was simple: “Asthma should keep you from nothing that anyone else can do.” Thanks to him, I enjoyed a long career as a wrestler, wrestling coach, runner and cyclist. To this day, in my forties, I am still in good health. Well, except for this weekend.
Before Dr. Houser, trips to the ER found me treated like a human pin cushion: Epinephrine, steroids, and various drugs were injected to open my airways. Fighting for breath, I was so weak that I wasn’t sure I could do so one more time. I experienced something close to this on Saturday morning. Struggling to breathe, I sent a friend a text. “If I go to ER, will you watch my dog?” Being honest, I was scared, but I tried not to let on. As I pumped myself full of drugs, I prayed for healing.
By Saturday evening, I was pleasantly relieved. Although still very sick, I was breathing easier, and I thought I might stave off a trip to the ER. Sunday morning found me feeling much better — so much so that I was able to sleep. And I did. That afternoon, as I folded laundry, I realized how impossible such a task would’ve seemed twenty-four hours earlier. That’s when it hit me: This was a gift.
Throughout life, we are given little glimpses of God’s plan. Cardinal Newman developed the Contingency Theory from this: One argument does little to prove God exists, but when we take all the smaller experiences of life and weave them together, they stand as an unbreakable proof. Each experience tells us something about God (see Rom. 1: ), and for me, this weekend was a gifted reminder: I will rise again with Jesus (1 Thess. ). The simplest act, doing laundry, was greeted with this joy of resurrection: I felt more alive in that moment than I had in quite a long time. I will die one day, but not forever.
As I work with youth and campus ministers to build programs, I confess that sometimes I forget this. An exciting speaker, musician, or retreat may find me thinking of how youth will be inspired to live better lives, find better educations, avoid certain pitfalls, and certainly, this is good. But we Catholics are resurrectional people: We point to both the Cross and the empty tomb. We acknowledge the struggles of life, but we always maintain the hope that we are merely “strangers and sojourners” on this earth ( ). One day, we will rise to never-ending life with Jesus. And my difficult weekend was a blessed reminder of this. I never thought I’d say it, but thank God for illness.
I am back from the dead . . . and that’s precisely what God intends.
Forever.