2 - Dave is an introvert?

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A few weeks later, after Julia and I had some time to talk out our master plan of how we wouldcomplete our remodel that we were also living in while one of us donated a kidney, and the other handled fourkids. We were pretty excited about the prospect. Of course, neither of us had whispered a word of this to Pastor Matt, Pastor Dan, or even Loren. Speaking to people about deep subjects is difficult for me anyway, and I have gotten very good at avoiding such things, but we actually needed to chat with Loren to get a few details on how to go about helping.

Men’s monthly prayer breakfast was coming up, and as luck would have it, Loren was hosting it in his home. This was the perfect opportunity to have a very brief conversation with Loren. I could wander over, grab the needed info, and then be out, hopefully in five sentences or less. That may seem odd to you, but not to me. You see, in my introverted worldview, the best church was one where you didn’t really know anyone well enough to ask anything deeper than a halfhearted, “Hey! How’s it going?” Add one political wave or firm pre-COVID handshake for affirmation and move on before they can respond. If they do respond, I opt to always follow up with an energetic “good, good!” with a big smile and a “keep walking, Partner” attitude. This usually does the trick, especially as I will usually complement this by looking away and giving off every vibe possible that I have no interest in talking.

Before you get all judgmental on me, let me say that I know this is not a healthy way to approach corporate worship. I am learning and growing in the area, but this is truly where I was a few years ago and, quite honestly, continue to struggle with today. Any introvert worth their salt will tell you that kids are a Godsend for avoiding conversations in these social settings. Talking to your kids, or even a baby is far more acceptable than staring at one’s shoes in this day and age, and with four kids, I felt as though I had hit the introvert jackpot. The downside to that, if there even was one in my mind at the time, is that I had never had a conversation with Loren that was more substantial than the political church foyer greeting as we passed one another.

Saturday morning prayer breakfast came, and there I sat, just diagonal from the guy who needed a kidney, maybe one of mine or Julia’s, and I had no kid to bail me out of the impending conversation. I noted the same pleasant half-smile that I saw during prayer a few weeks back and the same friendly disposition. He seemed quite comfortable to have the guys milling about his home, scooping up servings of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage while chatting about their week and enjoying the small talk that I so desperately despised.

I don’t really remember now if I approached him before or after our prayer time, but I do remember walking up to him in a somewhat awkward fashion, “Hey Loren.” He smiled politely looking up with his hands sort of half clasped together in his lap, “Julia and I are both interested in donating, and we want to know who to talk to.” A look of surprise and gentle chuckle, “You are?” almost but not quite in disbelief. “Both of you?” “Well, we want to get tested and see if one of us is a match.” “Oh wow, what blood type are you guys?” “Well, I’m A+, and She’s O+” A warm smile of hope spread across his face. A+ was a match to his blood type, and O+ is a universal donor. Hypothetically, he was now faced with two potential willing living donors. He graciously opened his coffee table and drew out a “Loren’s Army” business card with an email address for Kathryn O’Dea and the PSL transplant center in Denver. I thanked him and went back to my quiet corner to wait for an appropriate signal to leave and get back to my family for the rest of our weekend. Yes, you did read that right. I asked a man for a contact so that my wife or myself could potentially donate a kidney to him and went back to my seat quietly, content with the full scope of that conversation. Mission accomplished.

A few more weeks procrastinated by with zero action on my part or Julia’s besides a few YouTube videos watched on kidney donation. It’s actually a very interesting process involving robotic arms, cauterizing scissors, and most notably, a minnow net. Now I’m sure they don’t list it as a minnow net on the surgical invoice. It’s likely referred to as a soft netting living organ retrieval device, and it also likely cost upwards of $2,500, but it’s a green minnow net identical to the one you can get at your local pet store for $1.25. Look it up.

In the subsequent weeks, we continued to arrive at church just in time to run the kids to the various classrooms prior to the service, wave politely to Loren, and leave immediately after for Sunday spaghetti or, on occasion, a Chipotle lunch with all the kids. A few weeks more and we finally reached out to Kathryn O’Dea, the transplant coordinator, and left her a message that Julia and I wanted to start the application and testing process. Up until this point, even though this was clearly a team donation, I think I was fairly sure that we would both get tested, but that Julia would be the one selected for donation. After all, she spoke the idea first; she had been the driver to get us to finally reach out to Kathryn; she had ample experience in the hospital, what with four kids (three biological), multiple broken bones as a kid, and a recently broken ankle just a few years prior. She was a hospital pro! Me, I never had so much as been admitted. No broken bones, no sickness to speak of, and the only thing that I had ever even been put under for was my wisdom teeth. Besides that, I was the only income for our family. With so many littles, we made the decision to allow Julia to stay home and devote her full energy to being a mom and let the budget work itself out. It was all set in my mind. My mom could come up from Woodland Park, Colorado, and stay with Julia while she recovered. I would faithfully stay at my job and be fully attentive when I came home at night. I’m no stranger to jumping in with house chores when the littles get overwhelming, and I love teaming up with Julia after I get off work and on the weekends. This was a perfect plan until … my phone rang.

Kathryn O’Dea, the sweetest intake coordinator you ever wanted to meet, called me back. Katheryn and I hit it off right away. She was just a bit younger than my mom, spunky as can be, could hang with the best sarcastic personality out there, and was just the coordinator I needed. When Kathryn called me back that first time, she dropped the news on me that hit like a bag of bricks. “We can’t both test simultaneously?” I repeated back, “Only one of us can go through this at a time?” “We need to call you back and let you know who’s moving forward?”

Stink! This changes things significantly in my mind. Five minutes ago, my wife was my equal life partner. She doesn’t need protection, shelter, or condescension. She can do what she wants, when she wants, and she doesn’t need a reason and certainly not my permission. She’s a stay-at-home mom because she is strong enough to want to, not because she can’t get a job elsewhere or one that won’t pay enough to have peanuts left over after we pay for childcare for four. Instead of two partners headed shoulder to shoulder into the mysterious unknown, I now had to choose only one of us.

I’m a believer in the strength of women, and I admire my wife’s rock-solid mom strength like none other, but … I’m also a gentleman. My dad taught me to hold a door for a lady even if she’s dismissive and ungrateful, to follow a woman up the stairs and lead her down the stairs so that if she trips, she can fall on you instead of tumbling down behind you while you stand there like an idiot watching the poor woman tumble out of sight. I was taught to enter a dark room first, kill the bugs needing to be killed, clean up after the dogs, and pay for dinner. None of this has anything to do with the fact the women in our lives are unable; it’s just the way things are for me. I wasn’t then, and I’m not currently interested in rewriting that portion of hard code in my brain. One of us had to step forward to get prodded, poked, have 847 vials of blood drawn, drink iodine, have neon fluid pumped into our veins so that massive radioactive machines can analyze our systems to see if our kidneys can do their job, etc.… The John Wayne mentality ingrained in me by my old-fashioned dad just couldn’t let Julia step out and do all that without first eliminating myself as a viable candidate, … and I was still pretty sure I would be eliminated. This was Julia’s path. I just needed to cut the trail first. SEO Type jargon. Move along ... Hello, and welcome to my not a blog blog! So, I wrote a book, and I want the message of that book to get out regardless of whether or not anyone buys a copy of the book. A blog, so I hear, is a great way to take advantage of SEO and make sure that people who WANT to find content that my book covers will have a clear path to it’s happy little home in the Amazon marketplace and should then be able to walk away with a hard copy, kindle version, or Audible copy of said book. To that end, I will be releasing sneak previews and portions to each chapter over the next several weeks. Can I buy the book today? No, sorry. While it is completed, edited, and proofed, the audio version is currently being recorded by a guy with a much better voice than my own. I have no idea what I am doing in publishing, but I think I want to release it all at once. How did you get your book on Amazon? Well, I am a brilliant author, but I also used Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) that allows me to manage and upload my own manuscript(s), audio, and artwork. So what is the book about? Sovereign and Gentle is a window into my happy little family for those of you who don’t know us as well as a deeper look for those who do. The book will even be informative to some of my closest friends, as I don’t talk about much of this content often. The book opens with the prospect of either Julia or myself donating a Kidney, follows that painful journey, and then backtracks to cover some of our struggles with infertility, multiple miscarriages, foster care, and adoption. I even sprinkled in some real estate investing horror stories for you guys. The story is framed by key passages from Scripture that have been especially meaningful to me, and the climax of the book seeks to honor and praise God, who has gifted us in all things to be able to serve him in and through our struggles. Did I discuss the big church from college days that laid me off on multiple occasions and kicked us out of a house after the pastor went up the river? I did, and I don’t think I’m bitter… I think... I’m a work in progress there, but I hope that I framed that experience in such a manner that others who have been beaten up by institutions can find comfort in the one who is sovereign over all things and in His ultimate plan. Photography by Amber Andrews