When the doctor first told me I had a kidney disease, he explained that the disease would progress rather slowly, and in 20 to 25 years I would more than likely need dialysis or a kidney transplant. I married, and my wife Robyn and I had our daughter Jordan. I embarked on a career change, entering graduate school to become a teacher. And then, just 11 years after my diagnosis, I began experiencing kidney failure.

I had been on dialysis for only two months when I was scheduled for a kidney transplant. I felt fortunate that my brother Dirk had passed all but the last test required to be a donor.

Just three days before the scheduled surgery, Dirk's last test revealed that, because of his intricate vein and artery structure, removing one of his kidneys might put his life at risk.

I was devastated. The possibility of a transplant had been so close! I'd had such faith in God and the way things were progressing. I could not understand why it didn't work out. The answer would come eight weeks later. One night I suddenly began to bleed internally. Robyn rushed me to the hospital, where I was given four blood transfusions to offset the blood I'd lost. The cause was undetermined. Two weeks later it happened again. This time I went to the hospital by ambulance and received eight more blood transfusions. The doctors finally discovered the reason for the bleeding: I had a tumor the size of a tennis ball on my small intestine.

Had I received the transplant, I would have been given medications to suppress my immune system and keep my new kidney from being rejected. Without any defense against the cancer, the doctors estimated that I could have died in six months.

Suddenly I saw that the delay in receiving a transplant was part of God's plan. With renewed faith, I promised, "Okay, God, I will not question Your divine order ever again."

The tumor was surgically removed, and I was able to avoid both chemotherapy and radiation. But because of the cancer, I would be ineligible for a transplant for two to five years. The doctors needed to make sure that the cancer would not recur before they suppressed my immune system. I was more than disappointed that I would have to continue dialysis—four hours of treatment, three times a week—but I tried to accept that things were continuing to unfold according to divine order.

Despite the cycles of fatigue, fluid build-up, weight gain and treatments that often left me feeling ill, I continued with graduate school and worked one summer as a civilian bicycle patrolman. I had faith that I could get through this if I just kept my head up. I took an active role in optimizing my health by cycling for exercise and watching my diet and fluid intake.

The prayer support of family and friends kept me going. Cycling was a needed time of meditation for me. With no distractions, I was able to experience some of my strongest connections with God.

After 18 months and further research on my type of tumor, the doctors decided that I could have a transplant. I was placed back on the waiting list for a kidney. Months went by as one by one my family members were tested, but they were all eliminated as donors.

My stepbrother was the last to be tested. When I learned that he was not a match, I had to face the prospect of long-term dialysis. Frustration was setting in as my faith in divine order was tested yet again.

Then, six hours later, at 12:30 a.m., the phone rang: a matching kidney had been found, and I would have the surgery later that morning.

My tears were a mix of elation and sorrow. A 23-year-old man had died in an accident, and his mother had made a life-giving decision to donate his organs in unquestionably the most tragic moment of her life.

A Divine Connection

The donor's mother and I exchanged a few letters through the organ bank for the first year without revealing our last names, in accordance with the organ bank's policies. I had been told by a social worker that some organ recipients experience feelings of guilt because someone died in order for them to live. The following Christmas, I wanted to acknowledge the first anniversary of my transplant with a letter to Lena, the donor's mother, but I just couldn't do it.

Finally, in February, she authorized direct contact by sending a letter to me. She said that her son Christopher had been a caring person who loved to help his family and friends. When I explained that I was going to be a teacher, she responded that it helped her to hear that her son would live on in a spirit of giving, through giving me life. I thanked her not only for myself, but also for my daughter, who would no longer think that it was normal for her father to be sick. And I thanked her for easing Robyn's unreasonable load, because I would no longer be away three nights a week on dialysis.

I have often felt connected with Christopher – twice in a very powerful way. Once was during an MS-150 Bike Tour, a fundraiser for multiple sclerosis research. The first day of the tour was a 100-mile bike ride. I'd had a summer of training since the transplant and was in better cycling shape than ever. Passing the 70-mile point, I felt strong. I told a buddy riding next to me, "Christopher and I are hammering away here, and I haven't felt this good in years."

When I crossed the finish line, I raised my arms and looked up at the heavens. I felt as if Christopher and I were one. Tears were streaming down my face, and a woman near me said: "Thank God, it's over. Right?"

"Nothing like that," I said. "I'm just connecting with a guy who gave me a kidney nine months ago, and he is no longer with us on earth."

Walking in my college graduation processional, I was once again caught up in a powerful awareness of Christopher. I thanked him for ending my dialysis treatments and for giving me this new life. I felt that I was not walking alone, and it seemed we graduated together that day.

I now carry Christopher's photo in my wallet. I continue to thank God, Christopher and Lena for a life that is filled with the joys of being a husband, father and teacher—and I continue to trust in the divine order that is always at work in my life.

---

Jeff served for three years as a teen group sponsor at the Unity Church of Overland Park in Kansas. He currently works as a science teacher and is a Transplant Games athlete in the cycling, swimming and track events. Jeff, his wife Robyn, and their daughter Jordan currently reside in Colorado.


Back to top

More articles from Daily Word