Dear Friends,
Sharing a parishioner’s story about the power of prayer and the hope such power proclaims.
Peace,
Fr. Damian
I’ve always had some relationship with prayer – though I’ll be the first to admit that just like how all relationships take work… I haven’t always put in the work. Faith sometimes feels like currency to me. If I had more of it I could buy more things, travel to more places, or maybe even live with less worry. If I had more faith I could have more peace, live with more confidence, or maybe even move a mountain or two. But as I’m able to see beyond these fallacies, I realize I need to better understand how currencies operate to make use of them. Similarly, I need to better understand how faith [and by extension my relationship with God] operates to make use of it… and in turn to be better used by it.
To align with the theme of these letters I have two reasonably short stories; one of me being used and another of others being used.
The first: As a college sophomore, I was a resident assistant (RA). Free room and board and being forced friends with 500 newly independent college freshmen was a mixed bag, but all in all a great deal. As an RA we went through special training to prepare you for events you hope to never face – the coed with a cancer diagnosis or the student who wants to give up on everything.
One of the days that I had off I felt compelled to stop by the hall office to check on the RAs on duty – “Might as well.” – “I’ve got nothing better to do.” I expected two people mindlessly sorting mail, leaning backward in old office chairs, listening to a Blink 182 Pandora radio station. What I didn’t expect was to find both RAs alert on the phone with emergency services, trying to manage a crisis. One of those 500 was battling their demons, losing, and by the grace of God called the suicide hotline to ask for help before giving in. As I approached, one of the RAs was talking to the police trying to find which room was this needle in a haystack. 2 buildings. 3 floors per. 500 freshmen and generally 2 people per room… All of that adds up to time they didn’t have. As soon as I knew what was going on I told them the room number and the police were off. By God, this was one of my charges, my boys, who I had spoken with during one of those conversations you hope you never have, but in retrospect, I’m so glad we did. By God I just happened to be around on my day off, at the right time, in the right place, with exactly the information others needed to take action.
After leaving school this young man reached out and shared that he got the help he needed and was doing much better. I don’t know whose prayer was answered, but it clearly was. It took years before someone else helped me realize it was God at work, pulling these strings – to which I realized, it feels good to be used.
The second story has me being the person needing help. I moved to Omaha and found St. Leo’s on 102nd and Blondo. Mass, music, confession, and the occasional Irish soda bread – not much to complain about. I moved closer to work and was excited that St. Peter’s was within walking distance from my new place. Mass and confession – again, not much to complain about. It did feel like something was missing though. I had friends through sports and volunteering – but I found myself not growing in faith. I would stumble on the same stones and my friends didn’t care about what I did in the same way. If everyone around you thinks you’re already good, you’ll never be great. I realized that I was kind of yearning for more Catholic relationships. So, I prayed for them… I prayed for friends… Something I never thought I would need to do.
I had been in Cabrini, but only once or so for a convenient Mass time. My true welcome/invitation came in the forms of both Levi and Joe. Levi was a friend, now is a good friend, whom I’ve known since we both lived in Thompson Hall back on North Dakota State University’s campus. We reconnected when he moved back to Omaha, and it was clear he found (and made) a strong faith community. He was kind enough to invite me to an Alpha session. I needed convincing.
Joe was a coworker, now is a good friend, who invited me to Alpha as well. I don’t know if I would have done it if only one of them invited me. I needed frequent soft invitations from multiple sources – but by saying “yes” my life feels more aligned with purpose. Alpha served as an amuse-bouche to the full course that Cabrini offers. It led me to Called and Gifted and Cabrini Communities, which has turned into the confidant of my stresses and the encouragement through my struggles. They and my other Cabrini friends have taught me so much about how each of them practices their faith in 2025 – a struggle I no longer walk in alone. We talk about dating, raising families, pursuit of God, restaurant recommendations, vacation plans, job leads, pedicures, music, and just about everything except sports (which to me means we’re really friends – I will never have an original insight about watching a sport. If you find that we’re talking about watching a sporting event, I am placating you and being nice. Do with that information what you will). I love each of them dearly. I have learned so much about the profound nature of the universe and our God through each of them.
One of those profound lessons is that it’s a tremendous blessing that we are each the mountain moved. The cosmic chess that took place bringing me to Joe, Levi, Ann, Doug, Cathy, Chris, Lauren, Stephen, Alysia, Lucy, Adam, Angelica, Bree, Mary Margaret, Sean, James, Matt, Maddy, and so many others is incomprehensible. Each of them being a piece of my answered prayer – which also means that each of us is a piece of another’s answered prayer. Amen.
Kene Okigbo