Prayer, the Rescue Inhaler: What My Child's Asthma Taught Me About the Spiritual Life

Without prayer, the world shrivels up before us; with prayer, the Spirit expands our souls to contain God’s love.

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One hot summer day eight years ago, we used the tickets we got from the summer reading program to enjoy the rides at Lakeside Amusement Park. I noticed that my three-year-old began coughing more and more incessantly. Every other breath was a short cough, so we cut the trip short and headed home. All night, he couldn’t stop coughing and began struggling to breathe.

It was our first experience of an asthma attack.

We went to the doctor first thing in the morning for breathing treatments, but ended up in the hospital that afternoon because his asthma was not under control. If you have ever helplessly watched your child struggle for breath, or spent time in a hospital with them, you know the terror, the constant interruptions and the utter exhaustion that fills the room.

We went home with a (very expensive) inhaler to be used regularly, to prevent the lining of his airways from getting restricted with thick gunk (my words, not the doctor's). We also had an albuterol “rescue” inhaler to help keep his airways open in the event of an oncoming attack.

Thankfully, that was our only trip to the hospital for asthma, but there have been several other close calls. Something I have taken for granted my whole life — the ability to breathe — is as important as life or death.

This is just as true in the spiritual world, where our relationship to God is the very thing keeping us alive. We take for granted the breath of the Spirit, which is life to our souls. God made man from the earth, but breathed his divine life into us.

So, when I came across a quote from Henri Nouwen on prayer that compared a lack of prayer to asthma, it really hit home. He wrote:

 “When we speak about the Holy Spirit, we speak about the breath of God breathing in us. The Greek word for ‘spirit’ is pneuma, which means ‘breath.’ God’s Spirit is more intimate to us than we are to ourselves. ... Those who live prayerfully are constantly ready to receive the breath of God and to let their lives be renewed and expanded. Those who never pray, on the contrary, are like children with asthma: because they are short of breath, the whole world shrivels up before them. They creep into a corner gasping for air and are virtually in agony. But those who pray open themselves to God and can breathe freely again.” With Open Hands, Henry Nouwen, 1972.

Denver is the Mile High City — we are used to seeing oxygen tanks at Mass or an oxygen bar across the street from our favorite restaurant. When we hike in the Rockies, we feel the shortness of breath and the lack of oxygen.

If only we could really see the horror of a spiritual asthma attack! There have been tragedies in our nation lately that give us glimpses into this shriveling up — when we have no hope of breath or life, we despair.

The good news is we have the Holy Spirit, the inhaler of our souls, the oxygen we need to breathe! We should never want to be separated from the source of our life.

Daily prayer is like our expensive inhaler that keeps our airways open to the Spirit. Our prayer is our connection with God — our relationship of love — that gives us life at the source. God wants us to share in his divine nature, to be one with him. And so, our souls expand to contain God’s presence through the expensive inhaler of our prayer life. It’s expensive because it comes at the cost of discipleship: the laying down of our will, the sacrifice of time to devote to prayer.

Our connection to the Trinity should be the very thing that animates every minute of our lives, whether at work or home. This doesn’t mean we spend every minute in the chapel, but rather our interior spirit has been given over in love to be one with the Lord. So, God’s breath is mine, his will is mine; I only want what God wants.

Yet the temptations always come for us like the gunk that blocks our airways. There is a deadline at work, a new series to binge on TV, a marathon to train for, or babies that keep us awake all night. We’ll pray when there’s time, we say.

But we need to be able to breathe!

That’s where the rescue inhaler comes in. We repent of our idols, return to prayer and go to confession. The Holy Spirit — the Lord, the giver of life — unites us to the sacrifice of Christ and the heart of the Father, coming like the wind at Pentecost to restore what has been withering away.

Then we must return to our daily prayer life. The Catechism says, “We cannot pray ‘at all times’ if we do not pray at specific times, consciously willing it” (CCC 2697). It’s a matter of spiritual life or death.

How many of us are walking around in agony, depression, addiction, gasping for air? Ask the Holy Spirit to come to those who are ready to breathe again.