Breathing is Easier When I Have Air

It had been a rough night. Spending the night in the hospital is always rough. But when pneumonia lasts for two weeks and does not get better with antibiotics at home, the hospital is the safest option. So there we were.

All night long, my daughter tried to sleep. Between fits of coughing and visits from the nurse to check vitals, sleep was elusive. The pulse oximeter was our constant companion as the hours inched slowly towards morning. It frantically screamed every few minutes as she drifted in and out of sleep, alerting the world that her oxygen levels were dipping too low.

Finally, the nurse hooked her up to an oxygen machine to give her heart a break. It was working much too hard to pump the limited amount of oxygen in her blood throughout her body.

“I don’t need oxygen,” she protested between coughing spells. “I can breathe just fine.”

The nurse knew better. It was not hard for her trained eyes to see the truth.

A few hours later, my daughter admitted to feeling much better. “I didn’t even realize I was struggling to breathe until I had oxygen to help me,” she confessed. “All of a sudden, breathing was SO much easier. I guess I did need it, after all.”

After 48 hours of oxygen treatments and IV antibiotics, she was on her way home, tired, but ready to tackle school the next day. I am so grateful for her speedy recovery once she had the right medicine, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her words.

“I didn’t even realize I was struggling to breathe until I had oxygen to help me…”

So often, that is me. Struggling to breathe. Fighting for air, without even realizing it.

Overwhelmed. Overtaxed. Overspent.

Running on empty. But still running. Trying to keep things together with a combination of sheer grit and stubbornness.

But I’m fine, thank you very much. I don’t need oxygen. I am strong, capable, and independent. I can do this.

I need air.

These familiar words echo in my ears:

“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

But I can do it on my own. Can’t I?

I need air.

I keep pushing. Reaching. Holding the weight of the world on my shoulders. Keeping everybody moving and every piece in place.

Stop protesting and accept the oxygen. Breathe deeply. In and out.

I lay down my burden and inhale hungrily. With each breath comes peace. Tranquility. Humble submission to one who understands.

“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27)

Breathing is easier when I have air.

Why, then, do I sometimes resist the very thing that brings me life?

The truth is that I AM strong. I CAN keep a lot of things simultaneously pushing forward. I am independent and filled with optimism and belief that everything always works out in the end. Worry is not my natural state.

Sometimes, however, I become so consumed with maintaining some semblance of order amidst the chaos called life that I forget to slow down. To breathe. To look up.

Things are always a little easier when I look up. In doing so, I see the path that is illuminated by the Prince of Peace. With Him as my guide, I will never go wrong.

He always stands ready. Beckoning. Waiting ever so patiently. But I can’t see Him unless I look. Knock. Ask.

Follow.

Breathing is easier when I have air.