Late December 2013 I had been in my job for 6 months, and I was surprisingly very unhappy. I had applied for another job and was waiting for a reply.
I was completely baffled when the prompting came. Blindsided.
I had somehow picked up distrust of the deepest of motivation of those making major decisions at hospitals, as it seemed that when faced with a hard choice, money talked loudest. I very purposely stayed away from donations from my body, including blood drives. I had donated my blood only once, mandated by a judge as public service to pay for a minor traffic infraction when I was 19.
Not only did I make a conscious choice never to donate, especially in death, it never even crossed my mind that I could, except for a blood drive or for a family member (the only case I would consider, anyway). Donor? NO!
I knew the same week I was hired that the pale, petite, 23 year old girl had kidney problems. It was no secret. There was no discussion about any need for donating anything to anybody.
Not only did I make a conscious choice never to donate, especially in death, it never even crossed my mind that I could, except for a blood drive or for a family member (the only case I would consider, anyway). Donor? NO!
I knew the same week I was hired that the pale, petite, 23 year old girl had kidney problems. It was no secret. There was no discussion about any need for donating anything to anybody.
That day at work just after Christmas 2013, I remember that three of us were at the front desk chatting small talk about the other girl's date adventures when the prompting came out of absolutely nowhere, "You need to donate your kidney to her."
What? That made no sense to me, for these reasons:
1) I was quitting. Why would I keep any ties with her? (To be honest, I thought she had a lot of potential. She was quite mature for her age and creative. She had self-mastery and a natural sense for business. She would be a great mom and a wonderful supervisor.)
2) Although a cordial supervisor, I believed she honestly didn't like me so I figured she probably wouldn't accept any donation from me anyway. I mean, why would you want a part of somebody you didn't like always inside of you? Ew! (Really? I think that was my own fear of rejection talking.)
3) I had just turned 47, and she had just turned 23. The hospital probably wouldn't let me donate with such a large age difference. (Age doesn't matter; size and health does.)
4) Her doctor was discussing putting her on dialysis, but she wasn't in need enough to be put on a transplant waiting list, so the idea was moot, anyway. (Not true. The sooner a transplant can be made, the better. A recipient doesn't even have to have started dialysis, let alone be on a list.)
So , why was I having this prompting? I thought maybe so that I would be prepared to offer it to her when she was at last put on the donation list, sometime in the future.
The words I received, though, were real. The prompting was real. I knew it. I knew it didn't come from me. It was not my thought, nor desire. Yet, it did happen, and I would not deny that. I am a strong believer in God and in promptings through His holy spirit or angels. I have learned that at first some of these promptings make absolutely no sense to me, which is a witness that it was not a thought originating from me, but that when I follow the promptings I am happiest, and often I eventually find out that I was the one who did not yet have enough information for it to make sense, but in the end I find out that the one giving me the prompting knew more than I did.
And, of course, this was no exception. I was soon to learn a lot. (Starting with the above in parentheses.)
I told no one about my prompting. Not my husband. Not a friend. Nobody but me knew, until July 2014, when I learned from a friend that the word I was looking for to research was 'nephrology'.
What? That made no sense to me, for these reasons:
1) I was quitting. Why would I keep any ties with her? (To be honest, I thought she had a lot of potential. She was quite mature for her age and creative. She had self-mastery and a natural sense for business. She would be a great mom and a wonderful supervisor.)
2) Although a cordial supervisor, I believed she honestly didn't like me so I figured she probably wouldn't accept any donation from me anyway. I mean, why would you want a part of somebody you didn't like always inside of you? Ew! (Really? I think that was my own fear of rejection talking.)
3) I had just turned 47, and she had just turned 23. The hospital probably wouldn't let me donate with such a large age difference. (Age doesn't matter; size and health does.)
4) Her doctor was discussing putting her on dialysis, but she wasn't in need enough to be put on a transplant waiting list, so the idea was moot, anyway. (Not true. The sooner a transplant can be made, the better. A recipient doesn't even have to have started dialysis, let alone be on a list.)
So , why was I having this prompting? I thought maybe so that I would be prepared to offer it to her when she was at last put on the donation list, sometime in the future.
The words I received, though, were real. The prompting was real. I knew it. I knew it didn't come from me. It was not my thought, nor desire. Yet, it did happen, and I would not deny that. I am a strong believer in God and in promptings through His holy spirit or angels. I have learned that at first some of these promptings make absolutely no sense to me, which is a witness that it was not a thought originating from me, but that when I follow the promptings I am happiest, and often I eventually find out that I was the one who did not yet have enough information for it to make sense, but in the end I find out that the one giving me the prompting knew more than I did.
And, of course, this was no exception. I was soon to learn a lot. (Starting with the above in parentheses.)
I told no one about my prompting. Not my husband. Not a friend. Nobody but me knew, until July 2014, when I learned from a friend that the word I was looking for to research was 'nephrology'.
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