A child's view of a liver transplant

As I mentioned earlier, our 5 year old nephew, Aaron, is staying with us this week.


The first night he was here, he and Dale and Alan were all getting dressed for bed, when the following conversation occurred:

Aaron, pointing to Alan's surgery scars: I see where he got cut.

Me: Yes, we call those his 'train tracks'.  

Aaron: Why did he get cut?

Me: He got a new liver.

Aaron: What is a liver?

Me: It's kind of like your heart, but it has a different job.

Aaron: Oh.  What is its job?

Dale: Your liver cleans your blood.

Aaron.  Oh.  Well why did he need a new blood cleaner?

Me: His old one quit working.

And that was it.  With that little bit of information, he was satisfied, and we all went about our business of getting everyone to bed.


Alan stood watching and listening to our conversation, fingering his 'train tracks' the whole while.  


Later I realized I have been wrong in my imagination of some day sitting Alan down and telling him the whole story.  He'll know his story as well as any of the rest of us know the story of the day we were born (was it snowing? raining? windy? the middle of the night? a hurried rush to the hospital?).  


But He will learn it bit by bit, as it is told to others, as he lives each new chapter, and as he asks questions of his own.


And at the heart of his story will always be two things: God's miraculous intervention time after time, and one precious donor whose family said 'yes'.