I met you at the blood bank
It was the last day I would probably be able to do this for at least a year, and I knew it.
We were going to go climbing inside that day cause outside was cold and wet. They were closed so I told you to meet me at the blood bank. You then went with me to watch me eat. I didn’t mind. We talked, it wasn’t the way I wanted it to be between us. But this is how it is. And I can’t deny that this is my fault. something is hummed in the back of my mind “but you know that its good girl…”
As you drove off with me shivering in the cold all I could think of was, life is good, cause that’s all I see every time you drive away, and this day, at this moment…life was good.
I skipped into the blood bank, eyes full of hope and praying that my veins were full of iron.
I prayed and I prayed, I had one last chance to do this for a year remember, a whole year. It had not even hit me that this was the last time ever basically.
As she pricked my finger she made a discouraging comment, “it’s really light. you probably don’t have enough iron.”
I kept my mouth shut, I waited for that machine to show me the money. 13.6. “Im sorry did you say it’s too light? well apparently light is the new iron.” boom shocka locka! I had done it, We had done it.
I could finally give.
She started the questions, which was weird for me because they know me so well there that they normally don’t ask them all. But she was new…
she asks me if I had been out of the country in less than a year. Well tomorrow would be one year since I had gone to Costa Rica and the next day I was leaving for Colombia, so I answered honestly. “Yes.” I couldn’t tell her exactly where we were there cause I didn’t know the name, I said San Jose.
All I will say is that she panicked. And so did I.
She deferred me till the end of the month. That word, deferred, it hurts a little bit. Basically it means that you’re prohibited, in this case from doing something I strangly loved doing, saving lives.
I walked out of the doors with a brave face, but this time I didn’t say what I always say, “see you tomorrow”, cause remember, my iron was up. but I didn’t give that day.
The second the big glass door shut behind me something inside me snapped. I cried. hard. all the way home. all the way up the stairs. all the way into my dad’s office. I cried. I fell on my parents bed and cried. My father smiled at me and rubbed my arm as I tore at the band aids on my finger tips and then strategically placed them back where they should have been.
He said, “God has bigger things for you, its ok.” mom said the same later.
It wasn’t ok though.
three days later:
my friends and I had come up with this silly thing we called “toll” it consisted entirely of a high-five and the yelling of the word “toll.” it was that thing you just do.
We drove to the edge of Bogotá Colombia. And we saw the toll booths, of course we took this moment to all yell “toll!” and give high fives all around.
Juan paid the toll and we drove through, first my feet, then my legs, then a finger nail, a hair, all of a sudden all of me and my blood was outside of Bogotá. and it was ok.
We spent that day doing what we do best, showing the mighty power of Jesus Christ to children who were broken. That day I was drained entirely of all emotion, energy, and stamina. and I was joyous.
We drove back into Bogotá. Toll.
To end this.
I can no longer give my blood away to save lives. I have left the “safe zone” and I plan on doing it again. I plan on living outside of the “safe zone” making a home there. It makes me sad. and no, I don’t want to go back to the blood bank for a while. But there is good news.
HE can still give blood. to save lives, and He can do it much better than I, cause He did it once and for all. His blood doesn’t go bad either, no, it will last for all of infinity. what a promise.
My blood fades, goes bad, gets light, loses iron, loses value, gets dirty. His will never.
So I can say with a smile. I can’t give blood anymore. But I can give my love away.
Stick a needle in that.