She sat at the table, body failing, mind more alive than ever. I felt as if I should glean every ounce of knowledge from her time in the valley. Looking into her gaunt eyes and watching her flinch in pain made me wonder if this was what nearing the end of life looked like.“Did you have the transfusion at the hospital here, or after they transferred you?”“Oh,” she exclaimed as her face suddenly lit up, “let me tell you about that.”My friend, has the unique ability to find a God moment in every situation. Sometimes you just shake your head, but seeing the strength of spirit as she straddles death’s door, I am reminded that her faith is real and this is what happens when you spend a lifetime hanging out with the King of Kings. So, I sit back, smile and listen, as she speaks.“I had the transfusion in the hospital here,” she began. “The nurse came in and explained all the risks and side-effects of having the blood. There were a lot. At the very least, however, I would have irritation at the site. This is someone else’s blood going into you and it is unfamiliar to your body.”
I had no idea.
She continues with a smile. “I looked up at the nurse and asked her if she was a Christian.” Like anyone who knows my friend, I grinned, this was a usual question for her. “The nurse looked at me and paused...Uh, yes, she guessed she was. So I asked her if she would hold my hand and agree in prayer that there would be no ill-effects from the transfusion, and well, yes, she figured she could do that. So in the hospital room we held hands and I prayed over that blood. Then she started the drip. I watched that blood enter my hand and immediately became overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude for the person: who I felt was a man. He had donated his blood to give me life. I would have died without it.”
She was right, after the first Chemotherapy treatment for late stage Lymphoma her blood counts had dropped so low she was forced to lie in a hospital bed fevered and isolated from her young family. Without the transfusion she would have died.
“I began to pray for this person, because even though I didn’t know who it was, God did. I prayed for his family: for his salvation. I prayed that he would be blessed because of his gift. He gave his blood for me. I was able to come home once again to my family because of it.”
In a day and age where even church’s want to remove all mention of something as grotesque as blood I was reminded once again of it’s importance. A precious, life-giving substance that poured out can give hope to another. I was reminded of my Saviour. Nailed to a wooden cross He too gave His blood. The day I decided to accept His gift I received my own transfusion of sorts, one that gave me another chance – for without it I would surely have died.