Friday, May 14, 2010

My Brand of Bravery

I'm a chicken.  About everything.  And I suppose I am a chicken because I am a creature of comfort.  If it is uncomfortable, painful, and unnecessary I don't want to do it.  However, ever since I was old enough to give blood, I have felt compelled to do so, even though I hate needles with every fiber of being.  I've only tried to give blood once - when I was 17.  I was such a basket case by the time they had the rubber band on my arm, that they just told me to go.  Now after having poked and prodded through 2 pregnancies, I have agreed to go with John to give blood for the church's blood drive.  He kept saying I didn't have to go and made me promise not to be a baby for the rest of the day if I did it.  I said I would be fine.  Sure, I would not deal as well as he would, but I could do it this time!  Of course, now I'm getting anxious as we are at T-24 hours.  Ugh.  But I have always looked at like this.  How can I deny giving my blood to help save lives when Christ died a horrible death to save everyone?  Not that you can compare the two.  I'm just saying.  Jesus was willing to die to save a world and all I have to do is give ONE pint of blood.  And they'll probably even give me some cookies and a sticker.  This is as brave as I get, world! 

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