Blood Drive Day at Compassion

I get so excited every time blood drive day happens at Compassion. I truly ENJOY giving blood. It just makes me feel so accomplished, blessed, important. I mean, less than 30 minutes of my day will help someone stay healthy, or even alive, later.

I truly believe that God doesn’t give me an excess of anything unless He’s purposed it for His glory or for someone else’s betterment. This is no exception.

I look forward to this day, but I also kind of DON’T look forward to this day. I always end up angry. I know that sometimes there are medical conditions or strange travel happenings (for instance, being in Europe in the 90s when mad cow disease was all over or under certain elevations in Central America in the past 5 years) that prevent you from giving. Also if you’ve ever taken money for sex or drugs, but that’s a whole other arena. But seriously, being squeamish about needles or blood is NOT a good reason. it’s an excuse. An excuse to be selfish, to go on with your day pretending you’ve done all you can for “mankind”. You’ll sleep at night just fine until you or someone you love is rushed to the hospital and needs emergency blood.

I know that I do selfish things all the time. I do things that are so selfish yet go unnoticed by me because they’re so engrained in my psyche that I don’t even realize I’m doing them. Talking over people in conversations, for instance, or just waiting my turn to talk instead of really listening. All the time. It’s shameful.

I know this. I know I shouldn’t point out the speck in someone else’s eye when there’s a huge 2x4 sitting pretty in the inside corner of my right eyeball. But blood drive day always does this to me.

On a not-so-rant-y note, here are some other things I’ve been thinking about this wonderful, 60 degrees +, blood drive, Thursday morning:

My sister, Jesse. Maybe it’s a Taylor thing. Maybe I just copied her interests/feelings, having looked up to her my whole life. But she loves giving blood, too. there was a time when she was considering going to phlebotomy school because she likes it so much. I’m glad she didn’t, as that would’ve changed her path. I like where God’s taken/taking her and Josh, and I’m glad red cross phlebotomy school didn’t prevent any of their choices. Sometimes I feel like this giving blood thing is a secret fetish Jesse and I share. Maybe it’s weird, but at least we share it. and that makes it more comfortable.

Jesus. His blood gave and gives me life. Each moment. I think of the scenario of what I’d be like if He HADN’T offered Himself up on my behalf, paying in full all the debt I owe, the bills upon bills stacked up, written in bleeding red ink: pride, lust, rebellion, hate, murder, self. I think of Him taking back His blood, and I can’t breathe. I need His mercy so desperately. It’s all I have to stand on sometimes. When I admit my dirtiness and find I have nothing good of my own, at least I have His sparkling grace to hold me close, hold me up. I’m blown away. I heard a song last week that said “God is a lover looking for a lover, so He fashioned me”. what. the. heck. As I told Emily, I’m so bad at loving Him. Man.

Also, last and funniest/saddest: vampires. If there were a vampire working at Compassion, I bet they’d have to stay home from work today, like skipping blood typing day at Forks High School.