When the world is not the way we want it to be, it is easy turn to the utilization of force in order to initiate change, but if we want the Garden of Eden, it is not through fire and brimstone that it will come, but by the gentle trickle of the stream that flows through the land and quietly makes the flowers grow.

"Please- don't." the woman said curtly.  I was just trying to be my silly self.  She had pricked my finger and I had pretended to cry out (not loudly, or anything, just mockingly like "aaa I'm going to die". Apparently she wasn't in the mood for fun and games.  I'm not sure why.  I know it's serious business but I was doing her and the crew and someone in the hospital a favor.  Maybe she could have acted a little happier about it.

Fifteen minutes before I had been driving the hour and a half drive home from massage school in Mississippi.  It was January and the weather was cool.  I think I had stopped for gas and there it was, the big RV/bus thing in the parking lot of Walmart.  I had heard how important it is for people to do their part and I had often thought of doing mine at some point.  Here was my chance.

I called mom to double check whether it would be a wise decision to give blood after a long day at school and right before having to drive the rest of the way home by myself.  Hey, I wanted to make sure my bases were covered.  She said it should be fine and gave her motherly "what to expect" advice. So I went ahead.

At first I wasn't sure where to enter or even if I should do so before talking to someone.  I figured out that I was supposed to go in the back side door.  Going into that RV kind of reminded me of the little fire drill day we had when I was seven.  The fire man let us hang out and watch a movie inside until the smoke alarm went off and the smoke machine puffed smoke into the room.  We all had to "escape".  Don't know why it made me think of that.

Anyway, after the grumpy lady took my info and a little blood test in the tiny cubicle of the RV I was allowed to go wait on the little bench until one of the donor beds was available.  I looked at a couple of brochures but didn't really comprehend what was written.  There were people coming in and going out and there were about four donor beds and two nurses.  The place was bright.  I had heard horror stories of people being stuck with needles multiple times and coming away in pain and bruised.

When it was my turn, the nurses doing the actual drawing of the blood were really great.  The one helping me asked me to get on the chair thing which was a blue vinyl covered, reclining chair with little minivan-style arm rests and a raised bottom end to support your knees.  The nurse cleaned the crook of my arm and got the needle ready.  I told her I had never been stuck before.  She put the tourniquet on and asked me to squeeze a rubber exerciser-thing (don't you love my terminology?)


There was a face clock on the wall near me. I love to keep track of time, so I observed it throughout the experience to see how long it took.

After I did several squeezes it was time for the needle to go in.  She told me I had really good veins.  Thanks.  I didn't watch as she did it but she had this great idea to tell me to take a deep breath like I was going under water.  It was amazing!  When I did that and she put the needle in I hardly noticed!  It was a little scary, though.  I don't know if I could do so well another time now that I know what will happen.  Taking a deep breath certainly makes it impossible to scream, so that's good.  Then I just had to squeeze the rubber thing every now and then and wait for the bag to fill with blood. Did you know de-oxygenated blood is NOT blue but simply dark, dark red?

I just hung out for a few.  Then the nurse came over to remove the needle.  That was the weird moment.  I felt totally fine even though that blood was outside my body, but the moment she cut off the flow by removing the needle it was like my body said "Whoa! Where'd it go?"

The nurse was very faithful to check on me, which was awesome.  I told her I felt a little weird.  I don't remember exactly how I felt but I think my eyes were getting those black-out splotches.  I looked at the clock until my eyes cleared up.  If I had tried to get up, I probably would have fallen right down.

  The nurse told me to rest there for a minute.  She put some gauze and blue tape over the little hole in my arm.  It wasn't really bleeding.  Then when I was ready, she watched as I slowly got up and walked to another little bench at the front end of the RV near the driver's seat.  Someone gave me a simple logo t-shirt and invited me to help myself to juice or cookies.  Oreos, I love you, I always have. I always will.

Then it was time to head home.  I was feeling fine.  I called mom to tell her about it.
I was smiling really big and taking selfies to try to capture what I felt.  I was happy and proud that I got through it quite painlessly.  At home I rested and watched tv because I felt tired and knew my body needed time to build that blood up again.

We are not perfect. We never have been, we never will be on this earth. The only way anything will ever be good is if *I* do my part in following God, seeking Him in everything and blaming no one for anything. For it is not flesh and blood that we battle, but powers and principalities. There is good and bad here because this is not Heaven.

I like to read, but would rather write.
I like to listen, but would rather sing.
I like to watch, but would rather dance.

I guess I'm a doer, not so much a talker or a watcher.