QUEST: July 27

Asthma

It’s a rest day today, so I’ll do some reading and reflecting.  But no walking.

Not that things are all that restful here.  I’m staying in a motel room above a rowdy bar, and it IS Saturday.  But I’m sure I’ll get the rest I need.  The Lord takes great care of me that way.

Speaking of which, it’s probably a good day to share a reflection I’ve earned after being asthmatic my entire life.  For most of my adult life, my asthma has been easily and well managed.  When I was a kid, I had a rougher go.

I remember a time or two when I fell down on my walk home from school, and my little sister had to run home and tell Mom “There’s something wrong with Mike!”

I also remember, at one point when we lived in Denver, that my folks had arranged for me to go to the asthma/allergy doctors over by National Jewish Hospital, for treatments they thought would help.  And maybe they did.  All I remember is that the treatment involved getting seventeen (yes, 17) shots in one arm one week, and the other arm the next.

Years later, when I remarried, my new Wife (the saint) suggested I go back to National Jewish for some tests.  The lab results indicated that I was allergic to practically everything that grows on this particular planet, and that if a new planet were to be colonized in the near future, I might consider relocating.

So, I have that delightful one-two punch of asthma and “noticeable” allergies.

The allergies are easy to manage… I take a little over-the-counter pill every morning, and I rarely have much of a problem.

I also rarely have a “breathing event” (my name for an asthma attack).  But when I feel one coming on, I grab the inhaler and intercept it as best I can, and then sit quietly and wait for the drug to take effect.  Even when I have a breathing event, it rarely lasts more than a few minutes, and I’ve never felt like it wasn’t going to subside.  So far.

I always imagined that my life on this planet would end with the mother of all breathing events, and that I’d go out gasping for air.  But then, don’t we all go out that way?  The fact is, once The Lord is ready to call you home, he withdraws the Breath of Life, and your physical container (your body) no longer draws in the “other breath.”

Asthma is an interesting ailment.  It’s muscular.  In other words, when I’m having a breathing event, it’s not like there’s some kind of obstruction in my lungs or trachea.  It’s actually the muscles in my airway constricting, making my breathing passages smaller and smaller until the medicine gets down there and relaxes everything.

What’s the spiritual lesson here?  For me, a breathing event is an indicator that I’m fighting against the very (usually) involuntary activity that’s keeping my body alive; and it’s an indicator that I’m probably trying to reject the Breath of Life, too, by tightening up and throwing a little biological hissy-fit.

If I had the kind of faith I should have, I’d throw away the inhaler and simply spend the few minutes of my breathing event asking God to illuminate for me where I’m tightening up spiritually, and asking him to relax my soul so I can continue to borrow His breath.

I’ll hang on to the inhaler.  I don’t have the faith I should have, and I ask God for forgiveness for that sad fact.  But I do have faith that, until He’s ready to bring me home, He’ll give me the relaxation and the Breath I need to replenish my soul as needed.

Thanks for following my Quest.  If you’d like to respond, please post a comment here, or  send an email to michael@michaelhume.net.  Either way, I look forward to reading your views when I return to my screen in late August.

Michael, Saturday, July 27, 2024