So that they might have life

I came that they might have life, and have it abundantly.
John 10:10

About a month ago, I donated blood for the first time. Not long before, the topic had somehow come up with a friend. I had confessed, with embarassment, that I had never done it. "Well, why not?" he asked. "Um...well, I'm not sure I could do it."

Now, I am not afraid of needles, nor does the sight of blood make me woozy. But, I do have a history of fainting. And I had never had bloodwork done at the doctor's office. So I really had no idea how the loss of blood would affect me. But my worries seemed awfully unfounded and foolish once they left my brain.

I promised that at the next opportunity, I would donate blood. I left that conversation feeling good, albeit a bit puffed up. That Sunday, an announcement in the bulletin for the next church-sponsored blood drive deflated my pride. So soon? It's amazing how quickly opportunities present themselves when a promise is made.

Time sped onward, and the big day arrived. I was petrified. But, a promise is a promise. I slowly made my way towards the entrance of the Knights of Columbus Hall where the blood drive was held. I walked in with a Red Cross representative, who grinned broadly and held the door open for me after I told him I was a first-timer. "Welcome! Welcome!"

Since it was my first time, I had to register. This basically involves a nurse asking a gazilion questions about where you've travelled and whether or not you've been exposed to HIV and other diseases. This is to make sure that you do not have infected blood, obviously. After saying "No" to all of these questions (truthfully, I might add), they pricked my finger to test my blood for iron content.

I had thought I might be anemic, so I was a little apprehensive about this. If your iron is too low, you can't give blood (because you need it!). I said a quick prayer, and good news! I passed the iron test. When asked, the nurse said that I have a good amount of iron, especially for a woman. Finally, he took my pulse and blood pressure.

I had passed the preliminaries, and now it was time for the actual donation! It turned out that I was the very last donor of the day, so I had all of the attention I could ever need. My nurse put a small ball in the palm of my hand and told me to squeeze it gently. She wrapped my arm in a blood pressure cuff, while I squeezed to get my blood circulating. Then she prepped the site where the needle would go in, and regularly checked to make sure I was feeling alright.

The actual time it takes to make the donation is less than ten minutes. As the needle entered into my vein, I felt a sharp, but localized pinch. This sensation lasted the entire ten minutes. During those few minutes of discomfort, I had the opportunity to reflect on the suffering of so many around the world. My tiny suffering would only last minutes, but what about the suffering of others? Some suffer all of their lives, some for years, months, or weeks.

All too often, we try to avoid pain and discomfort. Suffering is seen as something to be endured and escaped if possible. Even Jesus, the Suffering Servant, pleaded with the Father, "if it be possible, let this cup pass from me" (Matthew 26:39). And yet, on this Friday, that we as Christians are audacious enough to call Good, we meditate on the greatest act of Love the world has ever known. Through Christ's suffering, we are given new Life, a Life that never ends.

In our small way, we can unite our sufferings to those of Christ. In that way, our suffering becomes not an act of anguish and despair, but of joy and hope.

On this Good Friday, I urge everyone to become a blood donor. As a healthy adult, you can replenish the pint of blood you give in 24 hours. And in ten minutes, with slight discomfort, you can save up to three lives.

Give so that they may live.