The Gift

The phone call was so unexpected it left me practically speechless.

“Hi, Mom! It’s Crystal.” Crystal was my 26-year-old daughter, calling from Wisconsin. I was on vacation in the Pacific Northwest, at that moment winding along a mountain road near Mount St. Helens. I couldn’t believe my phone even had reception.

“Mom, I need to talk to you,” Crystal said. Something in her voice made me pay attention. “Do you remember my good friend Kasee? From Illinois? She needs a kidney transplant.” My daughter paused. “I’m going to donate one of my kidneys to her.”

I nearly dropped the phone. Thank heaven I wasn’t driving. I was taking this trip with a man I’d been dating awhile. And just thinking about that—my divorce three years before, how hard it had been on my three daughters, especially Crystal, my oldest—filled me with anguish.

She wanted to donate an organ? To someone I’d never met? It sounded like such an ill-considered, impulsive, impractical decision.

Truth was, Crystal was struggling to find her place in the world. She’d dropped out of her Christian college, saying she’d had enough of the strait-laced atmosphere. She’d been drifting for some time, working as a manager at a movie video chain and moving in and out of relationships.

That’s why she was in Wisconsin—following a boyfriend. She was so smart and generous and wonderful. She’d been my rock after the divorce. But I had zero confidence in her judgment about this kidney donation.

“Crystal, that’s quite a decision,” I said, trying to keep the dismay out of my voice. “I think I need some time to mull this over.” Crystal said she understood. Then she had to go.

I spent the rest of the trip analyzing that phone call. What was Crystal thinking? Why was she doing this? Hadn’t I raised her to be sensible?

I thought I had. Until my marriage ended I’d always considered my children healthy and my family life fairly normal.

My husband and I had been high school sweethearts. Our kids had grown up fit and active. Never a major illness, no broken bones, no long hospitalizations. I’d fed them right, taken them to church, taught them good values and prayed for them every day of their lives.

A feeling of disappointment tinged with fear welled up. How could Crystal be so cavalier with that body I’d worked so hard for? Every night I prayed the same prayer, that God would help my children reach their full potential. Donating a kidney to a friend did not sound like a step toward that goal.

Back home, I called Tom, Crystal’s father. He’d already heard the news. “It’s wonderful,” he said. “So unselfish. I’m so proud of her.”