10 years since meningitis

On Monday it will be 10 years since I contracted meningitis and my first life ended. The April 28 anniversary always makes me reflective, but this year I've had two very powerful moments I'd like to share, so I figured I'd resurrect this long-dormant blog.

The first emotional moment came about a month ago. I was attending church at St. John the Evangelist in Lawrence — a cozy, spirited place I've really come to like. The gospel reading that day was from John, chapter 9, and if you've read my book you know those verses mean a lot to me.

Jesus encounters a man blind from birth and his disciples ask whether it was the man or his parents whose sin caused him to be born blind.

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him."

As I heard the familiar Bible passage again, I started thinking of all the things the last 10 years have brought. I was in about a dozen weddings, met my two nieces, got my first full-time job, spoke at the KU journalism commencement, got a master's degree, lived on the East Coast and made new friends there, met scores of inspiring people through meningitis advocacy groups, traveled to Brazil, returned to Europe and published a book.

Beyond that, my story has touched so many people that I could never have reached without the adversity put in my path.

As I was thinking about that adversity, one of my favorite hymns began to play. The refrain goes like this: "Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name. Come and follow me, I will bring you home. I love you and you are mine."

Tears welled up in my eyes and my heart was full. It felt like God was singing directly to me, through the choir and congregation. I do not talk about my faith every day, and I will never claim to have all the spiritual answers for everyone. But I truly believe I would never have recovered as I have in the last 10 years without my faith in a God that knows suffering, that feels it with us and will bring us "home" some day.

The second emotional moment also involved music, though of a more secular nature and in a much different setting. It happened last week on a beach called Pocitos in Montevideo, Uruguay.

My brother Dan and I were nearing the end of a spectacular two-week romp through Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay. It was only about 70 degrees, but we had rented beach chairs and I was sitting with my pants legs rolled up and what's left of my feet sitting in the sand, awaiting the occasional big wave to wash some of the Atlantic Ocean over them. I sat with the sun on my face, watching far-off sailboats, in a state of deep relaxation.

I had my earbuds on and was listening to my iPhone on shuffle when the song "Give Me Strength" by Snow Patrol came on. The song opens with the line "I choked back tears today, because I can’t begin to say how much you've shaped this boy,
these last ten years or more." That naturally made me think of my impending anniversary.

I won't repeat all the lyrics here, but I highly recommend the song. Suffice it to say, it made me think of my friends and family and all the support they've given me to get me where I am. And again, the sense of emotional gratitude was almost overwhelming.

"You give the strength to me, a strength I never had,
I was a mess you see, I'd lost the plot so bad,
you dragged me up and out, out of the darkest place,
there's not a single doubt when I can see your faces."

I am so happy to have survived these 10 years to learn more about what God has in store for me, what I can do for the world and to grow in my relationships. And I'm looking forward to seeing what comes next, starting with Thursday's book signing at Barnes and Noble in Topeka to mark World Meningitis Day.