I often get asked if I know anything about my donor. Up until now I knew nothing except that their lungs were healthy and a perfect fit for me! I recently received a letter from the grandmother of my donor. It was lovely and simple and it shed a bit of light on who my donor was: a man who was a joy to his grandmother (who is tender-hearted and sweet even in her grief); a willing donor who signed his donor registration on his own without pressure; a younger brother to an older brother; part of a family beyond these two members, though the details are unclear…
I cried reading the letter, and cried more afterward, thinking about who he was, who he left behind. I think of him with Jesus and ask that he would know the depth of my gratitude. I ask that his family would also know this and that it would be a light as they navigate the grief of losing him.
I wonder who else received organs from this man, who else is now linked to him, and in some ways, to me through the miracle of organ donation. I think about the gift, the poetry, the power: that even in death one life can still save several others. For me it is also a simple yet profound reminder of a deeper reality — the new life I have with these lungs is but an echo of the new life we all have through Jesus, through the infusion of His Spirit into our weary souls. Maybe you’ve experienced this new life with Him. Maybe it all seems weird to you. Either way, consider for a moment where you have received, or where you need new life today.
