If Id had words to speak . . . . I would have told my friend Daniel Bailey yesterday morning in Nashville that the end of the day was gonna hold new life for him in a way we could neither one imagine. I wouldve told him that the heart transplant doctor who let me in the back door at Vanderbilt University Medical Center before daybreak so that I could visit with Daniel thought what he was doing that day for another hospital patient was just routine. I would have told the doctor that his routine was anything but! I would have told him that my friend was there that day for a transplant, too -- for a kidney transplant that we all hope will improve and save his life. I would have told Daniels dad Ken Bailey, and his Mom Jeanie, and his sister Kelli, and Daniels many friends that gathered in the hospital waiting room that I had hope pouring out of me because of all of them that I could hardly contain. I would have told them all how remarkable it was -- how truly profound -- that there were ones whod driven from far away to be there in support. They came from Oklahoma and Kentucky, Indiana and Maine, New Mexico and Nashville, and even Alabama, too. I would have told Ken what a remarkable effect he and his family must have had through the years on the lives they had touched for folks to want to come from far away to stand in solidarity as they stared hell in the face. I would have told them that I was even more compelled that everyone stayed for the duration of the surgery -- that no one left throughout the day, even though theyd arrived long before the light of day. That with the scrolling of each update on the monitor in the surgery waiting area, no one seemed to tire, no one showed distress, no one ceased to believe. I would have told Daniel that I wanted to speak to the mother of his kidney donor seated adjacent to the circle where we had gathered. I would tell him I cant imagine what the day must have been like for her. She sat there alone with her thoughts, contemplating I am sure exactly what her son had chosen to give away whether he had thought it through to her satisfaction or not. You know, its a mighty thing to give birth and send a newborn life on its way and I marvel at the process each time it repeats itself. I have two boys of my own and I stand in awe each time I consider the way their mother carried them for months and delivered them safe to the world. But its the natural course of things for humans and animals to procreate and reproduce and bring a life into the world. Its another thing altogether what I witnessed this acquaintance of Daniels do for him yesterday. Somewhere along the way this friend of his determined that he had an extra kidney and that his friend Daniel was in need. Now all day long yesterday, I couldnt shake the distant memory of the ordeal it was when I was a boy--to try and get me to share. It reminded me of when I used to get a Lik-M-Aid candy pouch--you know, the sleeves of colored sugar, usually three to a pack, that you would access by way of a hardened white sugar stick and your own spit. Youd lick the stick and cram it and your hand down into the pouch in order to extract a multi-colored sugar fest. It was as close to mainlining sugar as any of us are likely to come in this life. But it always ticked me off as a kid that they packaged that stuff with two sticks, fully encouraging you to give away the extra one to a friend so they could extract their own sugar fit from the pouch and so that you could share. In a similar way, the same thing used to happen to me when we played Four Square in the cul-de-sac where I grew up and someone (usually a parent) would suggest I share the ball. It just wasnt my long suit to turn things like this over to folks, even if they were really good friends. What went down in Nashville yesterday went far beyond a kids candy fix and a Four Square ball. This guy, this distant friend of Daniels, saw that he held life in his hand and that it could be shared. It was like giving birth, but outside the natural process of things. It was his to cling to or his to share freely and he chose to give. To share. And whatever thought was crossing his mothers mind as all of this went down, it was his bit of life to bless someone with, and bless someone he did. Truly I wonder if he appreciates just what a blessing he was to so many through his incredibly generous act. Several times throughout the day I watched in awe as Daniels mom and dad went to share with this donors Mom. Several times I watched as they shared the news of her own sons successful completion in surgery. Several times I watched as Ken went and ministered to this woman who had given so much. She was there alone throughout her sons procedure yesterday. She was mostly left to her own thoughts throughout the ordeal and I so wanted to go up and speak to her, to hug her neck, and to thank her and to ask her to thank him for giving my friend Daniel new life! But I had no words to speak and each time I started to make an approach I felt my own awareness that to try and speak would only end in my not being able to speak a word at all. For how does one say thank you for giving my friend your life. If Id had words to speak I would have sung or shouted at the top of my lungs when they announced that the surgery had been a success. Like his father, I would have cried tears of absolute joy at those words or I would have groaned with the guttural sounds of his mothers relief as the word passed around that her little boy would be okay. So many things I would have done . . . if Id had words to speak. I think Ill just delight in the day and celebrate the peace of New Life. And thank God I was there to witness it at all.
Posted on: Thu, 07 Aug 2014 03:19:35 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015