Two babies are in intensive care, one that will only survive if given a new heart; another with a strong heart, but no chance of survival.
The latter child, Kaylee, was taken off life support, so that her heart could be donated to baby Lillian. Kaylee shocks doctors as she hangs on to life, and according to hospital protocol she can no longer be a candidate for organ donation.
The longer Kaylee stays alive, the less viable her heart becomes for transplant.
Kaylee’s father is quoted as being very upset, not because his child remains alive, but because his daughter’s heart is still good, and their only comfort would be to donate it to baby Lillian who is desperately in need of a new heart.
Besides all the legal and ethical implications of all of this, a few thoughts…
What must it be like, to hope for the death of your own child, so that another might live?
What must it be like to want to give the most precious gift possible (the very heart of your own child), and not be able to do so?
When God and all his angels watched Christ die upon the cross, was there any doubt that life could only come through death?
If this transplant ever does go through, what would it be like for Kaylee’s parents, seeing that other child as they grow up? I imagine some type of deep and special connection, knowing that their dead child’s heart, remains alive beating within another little girl.
Could that be the way God the Father sees us, knowing that a part of his son and his sacrifice, beats within all of us?
It’s been a long while since I’ve felt that U2 has reached the same lyrical brilliance they had since the Achtung Baby/Joshua Tree albums. Maybe it’s just be, but there was something artistically profound in the lyrics back then, and as with much of popular music, it seems much more casual stylistically today.
I’ve always enjoyed one of the song “Sometimes you can’t make it on your own” from their last album, but yesterday I fell in love with it. I’ve always known that the song was written about Bono’s father, but I was waiting in the car for my wife, and listened to it several times over from different perspectives and it floored me.
I thought about it from my own father towards myself.
Tough, you think you’ve got the stuff You’re telling me and anyone, You’re hard enough
You don’t have to put up a fight You don’t have to always be right Let me take some of the punches, For you tonight
It’s interesting how we’re often raised to be autonomous and independent. To think that my parents would not only want to raise me and support me, but also struggle on behalf of me is mindblowing.
I thought about my own daughter and how much I want her to deeply know that she doesn’t need to appear strong before me and that I’d gladly take shots for her and fight for her.
I thought about my wife.
Listen to me now, I need to let you know You don’t have to go it alone
She embodies these words especially as I venture out on an unpaved path in life. I’m guessing as with many wives she wants to know how she uniquely helps or contributes to my well being, but this basic reality of staying the course with me.
I thought about myself.
A house still doesn’t make a home Don’t leave me here alone
I think this is such a vulnerable statement. Besides when I was sharing with my wife yesterday, I don’t recall the last time I uttered the words “don’t leave me here alone”. All the stuff and significance I surround myself with could never compare to the family that makes my home.
I thought about relationships.
We fight all the time, You and I That’s alright, we’re the same soul I don’t need, I don’t need to hear you say That if we weren’t so alike You’d like me a whole lot more
It’s odd how the people that are most like us, we can have the most contention with. They remind us of our own failings, our own junk, our own areas of weakness.
I thought about people who’ve shaped me at the climax of the song…
Can you hear me when I sing? You’re the reason I sing
Like my daughter when she’s proudly showing me what she made with her blocks, I realized I’m the same way. I come alive when I have an opportunity to express the best of what’s been given to me. But even more importantly, it hit me how deeply indebted to others I am, especially my wife.
I can’t do what I do, simply because I just reached deep within and pulled it out of myself. I’m not a self-generating machine. The best of what I am is because of others. You’re the reason I’m able to sing.
Now take it further, and listen to this from the perspective of God speaking to you.
Can you hear me when I sing? You’re the reason I sing
Can you hear and see and feel a God that is joyously expressing his infinite love towards you?
