Stories from the ER
One of my friends works in a local emergency room. Every once in a while she will pass along a story about some strange case she encountered—usually involving a lot of blood. But today I heard about a 20-year-old patient who died and whose parents chose to donate 17 organs and other tissues from their child’s body to that many sick, suffering strangers.
I don’t know what 17 things were donated beyond some of the obvious ones—eyes, kidneys, heart. During the surgery there were 17 medical professionals on hand to receive a particular body part for a needy recipient. My friend observed that each of the people transferring the body part to its destination paused to thank the donor before leaving the room.
Can you picture it? I’m sure each person knew the urgency of handling the donated item quickly. But they acknowledged that each organ, each piece of tissue, had come at the cost of a human life.
My mind went quickly to Jesus. He died so that I might know life. His back bled, His joints popped, His eyes closed, His heart stopped. For me. For you. For the world he loved.
So I pause . . .
Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.