Chandra's Journal
November 28, 2005 12:55 AM
We have 3 hours before we need to be at the airport to meet the plane from Houston. Enough time to get our things re-organized, do a lot of praying and pacing, and a little bit of extra time for me to jot down all the things I’m thinking right now.
There’s a bigger picture going on here, and I’m just tonight realizing how big God really is. He’s bigger than the specifics that I typically write in my journal entries. Like… the pager went off beside the bed tonight at around 12:30. Drew said that he had been asleep for about 30 minutes; I hadn’t been able to go to sleep yet. We have been thinking about this call for the past week, expecting it every day, every night, and then disappointed the next morning when we realized another day went by. When I said a prayer tonight with Canon before I put him to bed at around 8:00, I said, “God, please provide a liver for Canon tonight. We want your will to be done and we know that your timing is perfect, and we pray that tonight be the night that we can put the anxiety of the transplant behind us and look forward to Canon’s future.” Little did I know that when we went to bed tonight, God was not only present here in our house, alleviating our worries, but was also very present in the lives of another family in another place.
I don’t know their names or where they live. But I pray to get to meet them today.
Let me back up. After Drew got off the phone and told me a ballpark time of 3:30 or 4:00 that we would be leaving Amarillo, I got up to give Canon a drink. (After our experience last time trying to start an IV when he was so dehydrated, I’m doing everything in my power to avoid that situation.) I picked Canon up out of bed and rocked with him while he drank most of the cup, kissed his forehead and laid him back down. When I came back to our room, Drew had just gotten off the phone with the transplant coordinator again. He was shaking his head in disbelief. I gave him a sidewise look, “What?” I said with trepidation.
What he told me brought tears to my eyes, and probably will for the rest of my life. This is a “direct donation”, he said. That means that when the family was asked what they would like done with the organs of their loved one, they specifically wanted to give the liver to Canon. Neither Drew nor I knew that that was a situation that could happen. The coordinator told Drew that she’s never had that happen before, and wasn’t even sure yet what the protocol was in a case like this as far as what information she could give us. But she did tell us that this family mentioned that they had been praying for Canon by name (it’s actually a God-thing that they found us, because he goes by “Andrew” at the hospital, his first name), that there was some sort of church connection. I’m still dumbfounded. This whole time I’ve been so wrapped up in Canon’s side of this procedure, and I’ve only briefly thought of the donor family until now. Drew has told me before that he thinks about them a lot. But me… when it crossed my mind, I would say a prayer that the donor would be a Christian and that one day we would be together in Heaven and could stand beside this person that gave our son this gift of life and worship God together. I would pray that God bless their family as they grieved and bring them peace somehow. But it never, never entered my mind that the donor and their family might have prayed for Canon by name, without having any idea that they would be the ones in this position today.
And there’s more. We were told that the donor is a child.
God, I have never before felt this feeling of awe for you. There is such a paradox going on inside my soul right now and I don’t know what to do with it. At once I want to run outside and shout to my sleepy neighborhood that your majesty knows no bounds, that your power and righteousness are so far above what I can comprehend! At the same time I want to fall on my face right here in my room and cry silently and pray whispers of humble praise. This child was created in your image not very long ago and is sitting with you even as I write this, in the same place our daughter is sitting. Too soon for her family (or his). How many times did I cry out “Why?!” when we lost Amberly? All the while not seeing your plan. I read recently that trying to figure out why things like this happen is like trying to appreciate a cross-stitch from the backside, where all the strings are twisted up, frayed, a knotted mess. Somewhere, on the other side is your masterpiece. How do I handle the knot in my throat and ache in my stomach that comes from knowing the pain of losing a child and also knowing I have a baby asleep in the next room that needs this in order to live? My words are not enough Lord. Give me the presence of mind to empty myself today and be your voice… to Canon, to Drew, to our family, and to the family of the innocent child you are holding, whom I love so much. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Sometime in July, I ended a journal entry with something like, “God, how will you show us your power? What miracle will you work?” This has got to be it.
Chandra
Psalm 145:13-14
“The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made. The Lord upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down.”