By Nan Kuhlman
I’d like to say that I finally
overcame my lifelong fear of donating blood, but that wouldn’t quite be
true. The truth is, I volunteered to write an article about the American Red
Cross for a local magazine. I could have chosen a simple approach, such as
the history of the Red Cross, but I knew deep down that it would promote a
worthy cause if I, gulp, wrote a first-person article about giving blood. I
never dreamed that I would meet Jesus at the blood drive that day.
It happened to be 9/11/09, Patriot
Day, as it’s now called, a day when Americans are encouraged to do something
sacrificial. I hadn’t thought of that when I decided to make my way to the
blood drive, but I liked the idea of being part of something that honored
the nearly 3,000 people who had died that day in the World Trade Center
eight years earlier.
The blood drive was busy that day,
so in the hour that I waited, I talked to other potential donors about their
experiences giving blood and why they did it. One 20-something woman, with
piercings and tattoos, told me she donated blood to honor her dear
grandmother, a loyal Red Cross volunteer, who had recently passed away. I
saw Jesus in the love and honor that this young person was bestowing on her
grandma’s memory.
I chatted with a middle-aged
mother, and found that she had nearly died in childbirth many years ago. Had
it not been for four units of blood, she wouldn’t have been talking to me. I
saw Jesus looking out for her through the simple sacrifice of a blood donor,
and I saw Jesus in her, looking out for the future recipient of her donated
blood.
As I was giving my pint of blood,
Jesus ministered to me through the loving care shown by the Red Cross
nursing staff. Through their experience and expertise, he soothed my
discomfort and his peace filled my heart and calmed any fears.
Story after story affirmed the
presence of Jesus in this simple group of local people doing something good
for their community. Almost all the folks I
talked to acted as if giving blood were no big deal. They weren’t looking
for praise or even a pat on the back. To me, it was evidence of the Holy
Spirit moving each of us to do something small so that synergistically we
could do something big.
The ancient Christian hymn by St.
Patrick, known as "St. Patrick’s Breastplate," is a good reminder of how
Christ ministers to us and through us, even in the most unlikely places:
Christ be with me, Christ within
me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above
me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity;
By invocation of the same.
The Three in One, and One in Three,
of Whom all nature hath
creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.
On my way out the door, the local
coordinator of the blood drive reminded me that by giving a pint of blood
that day, I had saved three lives. I thought about that for a while, and
concluded that Jesus’ blood is the real life-saver. He conquered sin and
death once and for all at Calvary, and today he works through each of us,
inviting us to participate in our small way as he ministers to the vast sea
of humanity he calls his brothers and sisters.
Whether it takes the form of rescuing others
from a collapsing building, a kind word to a harried checkout clerk, or a
simple donation of a pint of blood, Jesus is at work in every act, big and
small, of courage, concern and care in every corner of our darkened world.