Power In The Blood

As I posted about several months ago, I am doing a "30 for 30" list; which (in summary) is a list of 30 things I am trying to do to show others Jesus' love in a tangible way.  I am making good progress on it, and hopefully will have some sort of inspiring post to write when I am finished (don't hold your breath though...)

My format of this list was 25 predetermined things and 5 blank spots for spontaneous do-gooder moments.  When I sat down in January and made my list, number eight looked like this:

8.  Give blood

Sure, even in January it made my palms sweaty to type that; I attribute that in no small part to the one and only time I did attempt to give blood, which consisted of two people hovering over me trying (unsuccessfully) to get the needle in my vein and ended in me passing out in the high school wrestling room and having my English teacher pull me out of class afterwards because I was crying over a poem I didn't understand (losing consciousness apparently makes me very emotional).  I believe his exact words to me as he walked me across the hall and plunked me down into an empty office chair were, "Settle yourself down and then you can come back to class.  Oh, and don't eat the candy on my desk."  Ahh, memories.  

But that's not all, turns out it's not the needle at all...it's my body's reaction to losing blood (or a traumatic event) that causes me to pass out.  Now as an adult, I can proudly declare that I have passed out or had unsuccessful blood draws (from people being unable to hit my "thin AND roly-poly" veins) more times than I can count.  But those were all in medical offices and the blood draws were small vials...a whole pint?  I can't imagine.  Can you see why my palms were sweaty? 

Despite all of this, I really felt a prompting from God to put it on there, and I was sure I could somehow muster up the courage to do it over the course of the next 10 months.  

Time went by, and I steadily worked on the list.  Every time I opened up the app that contained my list however, there it was.  Old #8, staring me in the face.  And making my palms sweat.

I finally got to a breaking point...and cheated.  I had an encounter with an OSU student at Costco who stopped me and asked if I had 20 minutes to complete a survey she needed for a economics class.  Typically random strangers who interrupt me while I am trying to simultaneously wrangle my son and buy a 1000 pack of toilet paper do not get 20 minutes of my time, but the mix of desire to do-good and memories of all the stupid class assignments I had once upon a time got to me and I did her (very confusing) survey.  Once I got home, I scanned my list and decided that I felt that this encounter should go on it, but I didn't want to use one of my spontaneous spots for it.  Out came the backspace key, and magically Old #8 looked like this:

8.  Help a stranger with a school project - COMPLETED

And just like that, no more palm sweat.  Right?  

Wrong.  Turns out that when God prompts you make a list to try to show Jesus' love to others and then you don't trust Him enough to help you complete one of the items on the list, you start to feel guilty.  And things come up that show you He is prompting you to trust Him and just do it.  Things like...

• My in-laws give blood on a regular basis, and one day early this summer I came home from work and they told me all about the fun at the library my son had while they took turns donating blood.  Uh, there goes my excuse for having to care for him on my days off.  This got my palms sweaty all over again, but it did not prompt me to change #8.

• Back in the spring, I ran across a mother from Michigan on a babywearing support Facebook page (keep the comments about my love of granola Facebook pages to yourself please, ha!) who has twin boys that were born just 11 days after my son in January of 2012.  Her older son Micah struggled with health problems, and eventually they lost him in December.  To read more about their story (as I know I did a very poor job summarizing such a tough battle into two sentences) please read this article or visit the Micah Smiles page on Facebook.  http://www.annarbor.com/news/ann-arbor-family-starts-library-at-cs-mott-childrens-hospital-in-memory-of-infant-son/  or  https://www.facebook.com/MicahBabySmiles  I was extremely touched by her story for a few reasons.  One, I feel incredibly blessed to have a healthy child.  Two, I feel VERY strongly that just because I have a healthy child in no way means I can turn a blind eye to others who have children who are not as healthy.  Mamas need support, especially those whose hearts are hurting for their little ones.  Three, you can just see her love and pride for her boys in every picture they post; their organization is called Micah Smiles, but it could just as easily be called Micah's Mommy Smiles.  Four, they were asking for donations of books to start a library in honor of Micah...and you know we are a family who loves their books!  I 'liked' the Micah Smiles page on Facebook, so the posts automatically show up in my newsfeed.  In early July, Micah's mom posted that the library was running well, so they were kicking off a blood drive to organize 214 donors to give in honor of her boys, who combined received 214 units of blood throughout their stay in the hospital.  Sweaty palms.  Really sweaty palms.  I started to entertain the idea of putting it back on the list.

• In early August, the radio station I listen to on my way to work on Friday mornings had their annual "Blood Drive for Chickens."  Normally I would switch to another station for music, but this time I listened.  And I heard a Red Cross worker give a staggering statistic.  Only 3% of the population of eligible donors have actually donated blood.  3%.  And I am not one of those 3%.  This bothered me.  A lot.  I wipe my sweaty palms on my work pants and leave a huge wet smear.  Typical.

• Two weeks ago, I had some downtime while my son napped and a random thought (prompted, no doubt, by the Holy Spirit) entered my mind to look at the Red Cross website.  Hmmm, blood donations in my area.  I'll just peruse around here.  Too far, too far, I work that day, too far, errr...one in the lobby of my Grandmother's nursing facility.  Which is 2.7 miles away from me.  On my day off.  In the afternoon after my little mister takes his nap.  Okay God, I get it.  At least...I think I do.  My palms are still sweaty though.

• I try to forget to ask my mom to watch my little guy that Monday, secretly hoping that if I wait long enough she'll be busy that day.  But literally as I'm talking to her on the phone one day a picture pops up on Facebook of Micah's mom donating blood.  OKAY GOD, I GET IT.  (Seriously though, thank You for being patient with me...you know I am one of Your kids who You have to whack over the head, and I love (in hindsight at least) that You don't hold back on doing it when necessary.)  I ask my mom the next day, and preface the request with, "No comments about this please, I want to try."  There may have been a "from the peanut gallery" thrown in there to include my brother who was also in on the conversation and also an "I'm an adult!" thrown in there too. Mostly for emphasis and to prove that I am reeeealll mature.

I start to plan.  I pray like crazy for courage and a successful draw.  I check the "Tips for Blood Donation" page on the Red Cross website at least 6 dozen times.  Per the tips on the website (which I now have memorized) last week I planned dinners high in iron.  Red meat (which we eat so infrequently my son didn't know what to do with it), spinach salads, fish, and raisins.  Just to be safe, I started hydrating 8 days prior to my donation, but 24 hours before I really kick the hydration up a notch.  I carry my 32 oz. cup they give you in the hospital around and drink a full one every hour.  I start to wonder whether you can actually drink too much water.  I download In Christ Alone (my favorite song) and several other songs to my iPad to distract me, and then scour the house looking for headphones (the only ones I could find are in the picture below...can you tell we're not particularly musical?)  I pack a huge bottle of orange juice and one of my son's easy squeeze pouches of applesauce just in case.  I am as ready as I'm ever going to be.

My mom drives me and stays in my grandmother's room with my son, and I head up to the third floor.  I'm so nervous, I ask the lady dumb questions like, "I'm a dentist, does that mean I've come into contact with another person's blood in the last 12 months?" (answer: yes) and when she tells me to read a paragraph I say, "Do you mean outloud?" (answer: no).  My vitals, which typically are low low low due to running, are actually average for heart rate and high for blood pressure.  High blood pressure?  Sweaty palms.  Deep breath.  Quick prayer.  Let's do this.

I told you those headphones were cool!

The first lady misses my vein, but the second lady gets it (a miracle, I am stoked) and they quickly lay me back and I start my music.  It's going great.  I even try to play Angry Birds and find that it is nearly impossible to do one handed.  Eventually though, my blood supply starts slowing down, and with about 30 grams left to go (out of the 560 in a pint) it pretty much all but stops.  But I feel amazing, aided by the mental boost I have because I was planning on NOT feeling amazing...and I am not going to let this effort be for naught.  The lady repositions my arm and literally milks my arm with her finger while I squeeze the heck out of the stress ball.  It seems like these last 30 grams are taking longer than the previous 530...and the minute it hits the 560 gram mark, they stop and ask if they can take the blood for the testing vials out of the other arm.  I tell them I don't care what they do as long as I am conscious, and I have never meant a statement more in my life.  They could have told me to yodel in front of an audience and I would have done it...in that moment I am that proud of myself.  And just like that, the whole thing is over and I'm drinking my OJ and eating an oatmeal raisin cookie.

But it's not really myself I should be crediting here, is it?  God is so good and so faithful...but I am human and I forget this sometimes.  He put this desire in my heart and He followed through by giving me the strength to do it.  And when it comes right down to it, I don't think the lesson here was that I can successfully give blood.  It's that I should realize by now that He always follows through when we put our complete trust in Him.  I could almost feel His pat on the back when I got out the backspace key again...

8.  Give Blood - COMPLETED

 

Micah Smiles asked each donor to send a heart representing his or her donation.  Seemed only fitting to send a Buckeye heart since it's going to Ann Arbor!

This doesn't count as "heavy lifting" right???