The First Donor Experience

     Yesterday turned out to be quite an interesting experience for me.  Here at
work, a  blood drive was going on and I figured that I had never donated blood
before, I might as well give it a try.  As I was a total amateur about the whole
thing, I ate a pretty light breakfast before going to work, and because of how some
of my workload played out here, my donation appointment came up before I was able
to take lunch, which was part of original plan: take lunch, then come back and go
to my appointment.
    So the time has come and I head out to the bus...

The paperwork and stuff was the longest part of the process, (and I'm still
wondering why it matters if I had spent a total of 5 years in Europe between 1980
and 1997 and why it's limited to just those years), and it was off to the table to
get poked.  The donation itself went just fine, (the extraction of the needle was a
little fast and borderline violent), and I was led to the front of the bus where
there is a little bench and some snacks available for recovery.  They had told me
to spend about 15 minutes or so there, which I thought was going to be a little too
long because I already felt just fine.  However, I was still unsure about how my
body would react to this new experience, so I took the workers' advice and planned
to pop a squat on the recovery bench for the whole 15 minutes.  The next thing to
happen is still a little "Twilight Zone" to me.
    At first my vision started to go a little blurry and I started to get dizzy,
I'll just play out the conversation that I had in my head with myself:

    "Whoa, feeling a little dizzy here."
    "That's fine, the paper they gave you said that could happen."
    "Oh man...Now I am feeling really nauseous."
    "No worries, the paper said that could happen too."
    "Dude, I can't puke in front of these people, that would be embarrassing!"
    "Just chill out! Close your eyes and take some deep breaths. Stay calm, because 

if you freak yourself out too much you are going to puke."

    So I closed my eyes and began to take long, deep breaths and just tried to stay
calm.  Due to the fact that a couple nights before I had not gotten to bed at a
reasonable hour, I was feeling pretty tired too.  As far as I knew, I dozed off and
actually began to have a dream.  What apparently happened....

When I opened my eyes, I remember that it seemed weird that my vision took
several seconds to recover, and it was a gray, blurry process.  I remembered that I
was slightly slumped over in my seat, which didn't seem weird considering that I
had just fallen asleep.  When I looked up though, I was met by the sight of all the
phlebotomists in the bus surrounding me with the look of "HOLY CRAP" on their face.
 I was totally taken off guard by this and was even more confused when one of them
asked if I was okay. I answered that I was, and in fact I felt just fine then, but
it turns out that I had passed out and a lady sitting next to me had to catch me to
keep me from sliding off the bench.  So, they had me lay back down on one of the
tables and gave me all sorts of snacks and juice to get my blood sugar levels up to
a level that would keep me conscious again.
   
    Probably not the best first experience to have, but definitely not the worse.  I want to give donating blood another try, and next time try to think a little more about my meal choices/amounts before I go in. :P

To The Unsung Hero....

Hero:

  It's a word that will illicit an extremely wide variety of pictures on one's mind.  Firemen living and dying saving the lives of those in peril, soldiers laying down their lives in the defense of country, life, liberty, and freedom, and so many other thoughts.  Sure, heroes are even those guys in silly costumes that we have all seen and at one point loved on the Saturday morning cartoons.  To everyone, a hero is someone different, and for different reasons.

  However, there is one hero that I feel is universal across all cultures, lives, and experiences.  This hero is hardly celebrated, but once a year, and is the most subtle hero in all existence.  Lives laid down, dreams set aside, hearts broken, heavy prices paid, these heroes go through every day without fanfare, without medals, and sometimes without even a "thank you," for even the simplest but most significant things done every day.

Who are they?

Mothers...

    Coming home today, Brittany showed me the most powerful blog I have ever seen.  It is from a friend of my aunt Melinda and you can click HERE to check it out.  I haven't read everything on it, but the story as I understand it is this family was blessed with the chance to care for a very special spirit.  Their son, Caleb, was born without a fully developed brain and the doctors didn't give him more than a few days to live.  They were blessed to be with Caleb for the next 7 YEARS.  In all this time, Caleb was unable to function on his own, but every single post on that blog sang the sweet song of a mother's love for her special son through all the trials and hardship experienced.  (Just a warning, you will not make it out of that blog with dry eyes.)

  And that's what got me thinking.....

  Soldiers, police officers, firemen, even normal people exhibiting what is considered superhuman feats are praised, lauded, and adored as heroes.  News reports go on and on and on for months on end about some miraculous event involving a heroic act of some sort.  In most of these situations, the hero gave the ultimate sacrifice, their life, in the helping/saving of someone or something. History books honor and remember the selfless deeds of these heroes.

  Think for a moment, when was the last time you sat back and thought about how your mother meets every definition of "hero" that there is?  From the moment a child is born, there is a mother, and from that moment THERE IS A HERO.  A woman lives her dreams and makes them come true. A MOTHER, a HERO, gives up her dreams and adopts the dreams of her children and lives to make them come true.  A woman can be super, one of the greatest multitaskers the world could ever see.  A mother can truly be superhuman, hearing the coo of her child through several walls and closed doors and knowing and feeling their every thought, joy, or pain, whether present or miles away.  A mother sacrifices her very life every waking moment of the day to ensure the betterment and building of her children's lives.

   None of this is to downplay those who are not mothers or who cannot be mothers, but to draw attention to the greatest unsung heroes of the entire existence of mankind. Women can even be mothers if they are unable to have children of their own, because the ability to love, cherish, protect, and nurture is a skill that can be shared with everyone, whether one's own children, or other people's children. It is true, what has been said by General Authorities, "Of all the callings on this earth, none is greater than that of the calling of Mother."  Our mothers are with us every day, whether we realize it or not.  What you think, what you do, how you love, that is your mother, and what she taught you, shining through you.  When little children are afraid, and in many cases, when grown ups are afraid, who do they wish was near?  You don't hear kids crying for their teddies, or their buddies, or even their own siblings, they cry for their mommies.  Mommy...an endearing and important title, important beyond words. 

   Even the Savior understood the importance of his mother.  In his dying hour, he looked to his mother, who stood by him to the very end of His mortal existence and said,  "Woman, behold thy son!" Immediately after, he looked to John the Beloved and said, "Behold thy mother!" In that moment, Jesus looked for the approval of his mother and then ensured that she would be taken care of after his departure by charging her care to one of his disciples. (John 19: 25-30) In all the pain and anguish He suffered, his mind caught hold of the importance of His mother.

  In all that they give, in all the capacities that they serve, in all the ways they save us from ourselves, others, and so much more, our mothers are heroes.  Every woman to share the title "mother" shares a title sacred to all the world and to our very Heavenly Father and his Son.  Words cannot express the magnitude of the calling, the title, the BLESSING of mother and I myself fail at the thought of trying to express it.  For all that they do, for all that they have done, and for everything that they will do in every waking moment of their life, thank your mother.  Praise your mother. Give honor and reverence to the woman who was the vessel through which you were given life, and with each day are given a more abundant life through her sacrifices and love.  Let the history book of your memory shout adoration for the woman who will never stop loving you, irregardless of your looks, your actions, your thoughts, or anything else.  Though the gates of hell open against her and it seem as if the heavens themselves turn their back on her, next to our Heavenly Father Himself you can be assured that your mother will never, NEVER stop loving you, and for that alone she is worthy of a hero's praise every day.

  So forget Mother's Day as just one day a year where you try to make the day special and honor this truly remarkable woman, make EVERY DAY of your life Mother's Day, because she has spent every day since you were born making her every day "Children's Day."  Thank your mother, every day if you can, and if you can't, at least thank Heavenly Father for her and ask that He pour his spirit out on her to feel of His love, and of yours.  The unsung heroes of our time, of past times, and of times to come....MOTHERS.

I love you Mom, Brittany, and all the Mothers I know and don't know.  YOU ARE HEROES, and may you never forget that, and may WE never forget that too....