September 1, 2020
When day seven came, my strength and hope began to fade. At about 4:00 p.m. something inside of me began to die: hope. I was tired! Even eating was exhausting. I'd take one or two bites then need to nap. Deep inside I knew that if I went to sleep one more time, that I wasn't going to wake up again. And at that moment I desperately needed to go to sleep.
For a couple of minutes, I was angry with God. I had believed he would bring me through. I even said, "God, I don't understand. I trusted you. I couldn't treat my own kid this way." But then I thought about eternity with Him and said, "I'm sorry I'm upset. It's your right to call me home. You created me. I love you regardless. If this is your will and my work on Earth is done, then so be it." I closed my eyes and started to drift off.
Just then, the phone rang! The words, "Angela, we have a liver for you," were like gasoline thrown on embers freshly snuffed out. My hope erupted into a bonfire.
I do want to say that there's something very sobering about coming face to face with your own limitations. I think all of our lives we wonder how we would perform in certain scenarios. We want to believe that our courage, faith and strength would be up to the task. The truth is that we have our limits. II Corinthians 2:9 says that God's strength is made perfect in our weakness. I believe that when I reached the end of my strength and faith God stepped in a carried me. There's no way I would have survived what came next on my own.
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