My brother, Rod, and his wife stopped by for a couple of hours this past Friday on their annual trip to New York to watch a Yankees game.  Three and a half years ago I was able to save his life by donating one of my kidneys to him.  I have to be honest–it didn’t even occur to me to offer when he first told me that he was either going to have to have a transplant or go on dialysis.  (He’s diabetic.)  I got off the phone from that conversation, and then it occurred to me that I could possibly give him one of my kidneys.   So I called him back and offered.  He still tears up when it comes up in conversation.
      You have to go through quite a few tests to determine if you can be a donor–all paid for by the recipient’s insurance.  They want to make sure that you are in good health in order to donate.  I remember before each test begging God that they would just say “yes”.   My desire to save my brother’s life was very great.  It was about half way through the testing process that I realized that the Lord was giving me just a small glimpse into His love for us, His desire to give life to us, to give us His own Son at whatever cost–and because He wanted so badly to do so.
      Well, the doctors kept saying yes, and I was able to donate.  The human body is amazing.  When you donate one, the remaining kidney adjusts to take over for the removed kidney.  Most of the time I forget that I only have one kidney, and when I do remember, I just thank God that I was able to donate.  I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
      My brother wrote me a letter right before surgery.    It’s a treasure I will always keep. I would keep it in that zippered part of my Bible, but it doesn’t really fit.  (See “Courage.”)  I pulled it out today to reread.   It starts: “As we embark on our journey tomorrow, I’d like to say a few things about what you’re doing for me.  I might not have said thank you enough for your gift but I feel you know how I love you for saving my life.”  As I said, he still tears up when we talk about it.  Thinking about that–his continued gratitude to me–convicted me in a new way of how much, much more grateful I should be to the Lord for the gift of life He’s given me, at much more of a cost to Himself than I experienced in order to donate a kidney.  It wouldn’t hurt me to tear up about His gift of life more often . . . .  
     And as I said, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.  And so, I’m sure, would God.