[Faith-talk] Daily Thought for Thursday, February 20, 2014

[Paul]

Hello once again to most of you.  I hope that your day is going well, by God's matchless grace and His providential care.  Well, this evening I'm looking forward to our local Lions Club meeting which will be held at a local Denny's restaurant.  Hopefully our paratransit system here in Baltimore will be on the ball this time, so to speak, as last time they were 30 minutes beyond the time fixed for them to arrive.

We have for you a somewhat touching story today by Donald Arthur of the Bronx, NY entitled "Change of Heart," rendered as follows:

I spent half a lifetime acting like I didn't need anyone.  Then I got a second chance, thanks to this lady.

Men were providers.  They went out and earned a decent living for their families.  I'd learned that early on from my father, who'd worked two jobs to support a wife and five children.  Life hadn't been easy for Dad, but he was a survivor:  tough, resilient.  He taught me to be the same way.  Of course, my brothers and sister and I always knew Dad loved us, although he never came out and said it.  Hugs and kisses and I-love-yous were Mom's job.

I got married and became a father myself and held down a good job as a bookkeeper.  As far as I was concerned, I was keeping my end of the bargain.  Yet, despite my being a good provider, my marriage failed.  The next time around was no different.  My second marriage ended in divorce, too.  Life wasn't always easy, I figured.  A man had to be strong and learn to stand on his own two feet.  In time I felt a sense of pride that I could make by myself.  I really didn't need anybody.

Or at least that's what I thought until my doctor diagnosed a dilated cardiomyopathy, an enlargement of the heart.  Without a transplant, I'd be dead in six months to a year.  Not only was my life in the hands of doctors and hospital staff, but someone would have to donate a heart.  I pushed many notions of vulnerability out of my mind.  I would will myself through this.  Finally, a heart became available and the operation was a success.  Didn't this prove how tough I was, how resilient?

The following days were filled with physical therapy and reading.  I watched a parade of visitors come and go--to the rooms of other patients.  My children did not visit often.  I'd been a good provider, but I had to admit that was pretty much the extent of my fathering.  And my ex-wives certainly weren't planning on stopping by.  Coworkers called out of polite concern, but I'd never taken the time to get close to them.  They were casual friends at best.  I realized how lonely I was.

One day I noticed another transplant patient writing intently in the lounge.  The man looked up and saw me staring.  "It's a letter to the family of my organ donor," he explained.  I learned that many patients reached out to their donor's family, and the family chose to remain anonymous or not.  For the first time since the operation, I wondered about my organ donor.  Who was he? Did he leave behind a family? Acknowledging him seemed the decent thing to do.

I got some stationery and a pen and settled in to write.  Instead, I stared at the blank paper.  It gave me second thoughts.  Why would the donor's family want a letter from me? It would only remind them of their loss.  I pictured them making the decision to save a life in the midst of their terrible grief.  An utterly selfless decision.  A decision to save my life.  This family had expressed more love toward me, a complete stranger, that I had ever shown toward myself or anyone else for that matter.  Something in me softened.  The toughness fell away.  "Thank you," I wrote.  I felt overwhelmed by thankfulness.  I'd been given a second chance at life! The words on the page blurred.  I wiped my eyes.  Tear.  It surprised me.  I wasn't the type of man who cried.

It took me a long time to write that letter.  I introduced myself and said how much I valued this new gift of life.  It felt like the most honest thing I'd ever put into words.  Lord, help me share that gift and the love my donor's family has shown me with the rest of the world.  I sealed and stamped the letter, and turned it over to be mailed.

Being stuck in a hospital, fighting boredom, the days without visitors, everything was a little easier to bear.  Soon I was ready to be released.  I even felt strong enough to return to my bookkeeping job part time.  That first day back, I forced myself to take my time, stop for a friendly chat, or thank my coworkers for their concern.  By week's end, I saw that my job could be more than just a decent paycheck.

I started seeing my kids regularly and took a real interest in their lives.  At the end of every visit, every phone call, I said, "I love you." Why had I waited so long to tell them? Especially since they were so willing to get close to me in return.  Meanwhile, I kept up my letters to my donor's family.  When I went in for a checkup, I wrote about my progress.  When I started running, I wrote about that, too.  Fifteen months after my heart transplant, I racewalked the 1990 New York City Marathon.  My doctors said I was a real success story.

I began to think it might be painful for my donor's family to hear all that I was doing.  I decided to write one last letter.  "I understand completely if you want to remain anonymous," I said.  I thanked them again, and this time sent my love.

A few days later my transplant coordinator called me at work.  My donor's family had sent me a letter!

Margaret Grady's 25-year-old son had been shot in a case of mistaken identity.  "I hadn't been able to find the words to write to you," she said, "but I've always been grateful for your letters.  They let me know I made the right decision."

Margaret lived in the city, too, and the New York Organ Donor Network arranged for us to meet.  We embraced each other, and again, I found myself crying.  It was a day I will never forget.

Then just when I thought my new heart couldn't hold any more love, I met Muriel.  I've been open and caring toward her from our very first date.  We've been married for two years.  My children and I have never been closer.  I'm surrounded by friends.  I've walked 16 marathons, including one with Margaret's other son.  The Gradys have become family.  Before my heart transplant, I thought I didn't need anybody.  Now I can fill pages with the names of all the people I care about, each of whom makes my life whole, joyous, and full with love.

And there you have it for today.  It is my sincere hope that this this article was a blessing to some, if not all, of you today.

And now may the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob just keep us safe, individually and collectively, in these last days in which we live.  Lord willing, tomorrow there will be another Daily Thought message for you.  Your Christian friend and brother, Paul