I once read a story about a little boy who was born infected with the AIDS virus. When he was still an infant he was adopted by a kind and loving Christian family. They knew the risks and the possible hardship they were taking, but decided that they couldn’t let this child of God’s die without knowing what love and having a family was like. When the little boy reached 9 years old, his immune system grew weak and he was hospitalized. That evening he was awakened to see his adoptive mother, sitting in the dark by his bedside, weeping.

“Why are you crying?” he asked through sleepy eyes.

She tried to compose herself and softly said, “Because you’re too young to die.”

He gave her a warm smile and replied, “You’ve taken good care of me. You’ve loved me and that’s kept me alive a little bit longer. I was supposed to die a long time ago. I consider these my bonus years.”

This story brought forth a flood of emotions that touched me deeply. Many have said that AIDS is a curse from God and part of His wrath. They claim that since it is transmitted through fornication and IV drug usage, those infected deserved it and brought it on themselves. When I told them that I don’t believe God is like that, they remind me of when God flooded the land. Does this mean that since I contracted AIDS during a second sexual experience as a teenager that God no longer wants me and I am condemned? What about the little boy who was born infected? I still say “No!” In fact, AIDS has brought me much closer to the Lord. He works in mysterious ways. If we knew what those mysterious ways were, we wouldn’t need faith and hope. In essence, we wouldn’t need Him. When I first learned that I was HIV positive, I didn’t have a relationship with God. Oh, I went to church with my family and I did good deeds, but I didn’t realize just who God was. And so I continued to live aimlessly one day after another. When I finished high school, I didn’t bother with college. Why should I when I was expecting to die?

Then there came a low time in my life when a friend noticed my anguish and she gave me her rosary. It was just a simple wooden rosary, but I made a vow to give God a chance, and I started praying with it everyday. It wasn’t overnight, but gradually I started to witness the miracles of God in my life. I was noticing little blessings that I had originally been taking for granted all along. I’ve been HIV positive for 14 years. For eight of those years I baffled my doctors because the illness was fully blown and yet my system refused to give in. My body refused to succumb. And yet, I know it wasn’t anything I was doing. It wasn’t the medications I was taking. It was something else. Something else was keeping me alive and I know where it came from. After each rosary I pray the serenity prayer and the prayer to St. Jude. Until recently I prayed that God would cure me. But now I realize that AIDS was never my disease. It was my cure! It was the cure that brought me back to faith and God. I’m not sick—I’m blessed. And, as long as I am HIV positive, I will stay close with God. He is my comforter and provider. God has taken good care of me. He’s loved me and kept me alive a little bit longer. I was supposed to die a long time ago. I consider these my blessed years.