Liver Donation

The Marks of Love…

/ Noah D. Schumacher / 1 Comment

We had just completed our first lap on our floor. With each aching step—slower than a snails pace—my mind began to swirl. “God this is hard. I am in serious pain. How long is this journey going to be? Is this child going to make it and do well? Is my mother going to be OK?” It was only day three.

My routine in the hospital was pretty simple. Each day began the same. Around 3:00 or 4:00am  I would be awoken for vitals and meds. It was hard to go fall back asleep, so I would usually stare at the ceiling and then decide I would get up and go on a walk with the help of a nurse. Then it would be back to my chair and then eventually back to the bed when I felt the need to spice it up. This process would repeat itself throughout the day mixed in with some Dr visits, reading, and mindless staring out the window at the Cleveland skyline. Bedtime was uneventful. Find the best position to sleep. When you find it… don’t you dare move. Take lots of meds. Get your nightly blood thinner shot and try to sleep off the pain.

But that day three morning was something. We came to my favorite spot on the floor. It was a window that looked outside. I loved going to it during my walk and watching the cars and everyone outside. Granted I was only in there for three days but at this point but my body felt like I had been steam rolled by a semi-truck. People and nature watching took my mind off of what I was feeling.

But during that morning’s routine I broke down. As Michelle and I stood at the window—one hand on the glass and the other grasping my IV pole—I sobbed. I couldn’t control it. Alarmed, Michelle asked what was wrong. All I could utter was, “It’s just so much… everything is hitting me. Hard.” I knew this moment would come. I am sure it will return at a later date.

Everything Set In…

What was hitting me was a wide array of emotions. There were the emotions of worry involving my mother. Which haven’t left. The emotions of wondering how the recipient was doing. I felt an odd mixture of humility, shame, and guilt watching Michelle and my nurses do literally everything for me. I went into the hospital as healthy as I could ever be. But in just a few short days I was experiencing something physically and mentally I was ill prepared for. Sure, I had knowledge, testimonies, and reading material. Nothing really prepares you to have a surgery like this.

The picture on the left was taken the night before. The picture on the right was a few days later. The bandage is covering a hole in which a drainage tube went up into the area where my liver was cut.

But there was something else that caused me to break down the morning of the third day outside of concern and worry. In that moment I was also overwhelmed with the reality of sacrificial love. The love that motivated our decision had finally set in. It went from talk to now something I see in the mirror, feel in my body, and it was costing me so much in that moment.

I had done interviews before this surgery. I had talked with Fox News out of NYC about “love” as the core motivator. I talked with a reporter from the local news about how common sense this decision was; because of “love.” A local newspaper wanted to do a story when they caught wind of everything and so we did. There too I explained that all of this was coming from a desire to “love” well—just as I would assume Jesus would.

But here is what I realized. We can use this word “love” quite easily. We can speak of a love for a friend, spouse, or God. But to bring costly action into the statements of our love; well it ceases to be just “love” at that point. It now becomes a love with some added adjectives: compassionate and sacrificial. That kind of love will almost always leave a mark.

It could be a mark that you bear on your body. It could be a mark that scars your soul. A mark that stays with you forever. Regardless, it is usually a mark that results from you loving sacrificially—with everything you have.

How did Jesus love?

I was asked a question by a reporter off the record before the surgery. “How is it that you are able to easily accept this kind of pain and struggle for someone you don’t even know?” Quickly I responded, “Didn’t Jesus? Wasn’t he reckless with his love? Wasn’t he driven by compassion and sacrifice for those he didn’t know?” Awkwardly, his response was, “I guess so.”

I really love Jesus. He is everything to me. I love him not only for how my life has changed because of him. But mainly for his example of costly love. The bleeding heart of Jesus was open to all those who were (are) lost, in anguish, in guilt. Thirsty for life, for love, for acceptance. He came to heal, to save, to free from bondage, to give rest, to empower—so that each one might know they are valued and honored. That’s how Jesus loved. It wasn’t easy and it was costly. So costly that his end was marked with torture and rutheless exectution.

While in recovery I have been prompted to study two areas: the life of Jesus and His desire for his church. Thus far In my study of the book of Luke I have realized a few simple things about his life. With this costly love in mind (the kind of love that is sure to leave a mark), Jesus was fully present to each person he encountered. He received more fully the pain of every person he came across. Strangers. Neighbors. Enemies. Family. Friends.

He took that pain and suffered with them in solidarity. He touched the deepest need in each person. Whether it be a cry for love, value, acceptance, vulnerability, or intimacy—he met each need. How? By demonstrating compassion. Grace. Mercy. Patience. Forgiveness. Kindness. By demonstrating sacrificial and costly love.

Jesus didn’t express this kind of love for the hell of it. He did it to demonstrate how Yahweh desires his children to live. It was the forging of a new way in how to love and welcome the poor and befriend the powerless, the strangers, and enemies.

Make no mistake. His followers were watching. They saw how Jesus lived—simply and poorly—open to each moment and each situation. Always open to the will of His heavenly Father. They saw how he was motivated. It wasn’t by a codified law or concrete set of legalistic expressions of righteousness. They knew. It was a motivation of costly love which came from above. A love the world had not known and was most definitely not prepared for.

Jesus the Agitator…

Jesus disturbed and agitated those who found him too radical, utopian, and unrealistic. Sadly, for those of us who love radically, we often hear these same accusations.

They would say,

“How can one give up wealth and share with the poor?”

“How can one renounce violence?”

“How can one love one’s enemies?”

“How can one live without security and money?”

“How can one become like a little child full of faith?”

“How can one eat his flesh and drink his blood?”

“How can one live in solidarity with sinners, rejects, and the broken?”

Those who questioned and wanted understanding were those who could not fit his ways and teachings into their own ideas and thus refused to trust him. As a result, they turned away. They found it impossible, unreasonable, and downright dangerous to accept the newness of his message. As I said in a previous post—Jesus was a badass in the purest sense of the word. He didn’t care what the “Righteous Monopoly” said.

As a result, his exression of love was costly. It left many marks in his young life. It was so costly that he even broke down in tears one lonely night in a garden. Perhaps then too Jesus was realizing just how costly this love was about to be.

Make no mistake. In no way could I equate my action with His. Ever. For goodness sake, he is Jesus who was crucified and tortured. I am a sinner saved by the glorious grace of God. I am nothing special nor of value. Only Christ within me.

However, the motivation of love is the same. Not only for me in giving a portion of my liver to a stranger but for all who would seek to love sacrificially. It will cost us like it cost him. It will hit us like a right hook out of nowhere as we fully realize just how costly and painful it will be and we just might be driven to tears. All of us at one time or another will have that opportunity in front of us. But what kind of love will we choose?

The Pain We Feel…

I beg you do not run from the pain this radical kind of love will bring. Pain is not the ultimate evil to be shunned. Neither is suffering. We must not flee it or be overcome by it. Those who flee pain flee people and opportunities. In fact, I believe Jesus invites us to accept pain. Nay, embrace it. To walk with it and even more to discover that it can be transformed by love into sacrament—a gift that brings life and enables new depths of love that is more akin to the love of God vs. the love of Man. Famed author and creator of Le’ Arche Jean Vanier dedicated his entire life to this kind of love. Much of what I have written here echos his teaching and example.

And when its all said and done… if your transition into a life of love that is compassion-driven, painful, and sacrificial—if that love bears marks upon you… be proud. Maybe take a picture with it so you don’t forget. Those are marks that will stay with you forever reminding you that you did your best to love like Jesus. And as you can see… that’s the only kind of love that can truly change the world.

Choose Compassionate and Sacrificial Love…

In conclusion I leave you with this: be compassionate. The world has enough hate, anger, and malice. What the world needs is compassionate love. A compassion that is best described by a beloved Dutch Priest named Henri Nouwen:

“Compassion is not a stooping down of the privileged to the level of those without privilege below. Neither is it a reaching down a hand from those above to the unhappy ones below. Nor a friendly gesture of pity to those who haven’t “made it.” Quite the opposite. Compassion goes and lives among people and in places where suffering and pain lives. God’s compassion is total, absolute, unlimited, and unbounded. It is the compassion of those who go to the forgotten corners of the earth and stay there until they are sure that not a single eye is still crying. It is the compassion of a God who doesn’t simply act like a servant, but whose behavior of service is the direct expression of his divinity.”

That.

Let’s do that and do it well. With no regrets.

And if it causes pain, leaves a scar across your stomach, or a mark on your heart.

If leaves you weary, broken, and tired…run down and even taken advantage of to an extent.

If you are told you are utopian, unbiblical, naïve, or reckless in your attempts to love like Jesus…

Well, who gives a damn.

I know Jesus doesn’t.

 

Our Decision Through the Eyes of Our Children…

/ Noah D. Schumacher / Leave a comment

This experience of donating my liver to a child that we do not know personally has brought one interesting dynamic: communicating to our own children. For those who do not know our story you can read it in its entirety here .

Our three children look to me as their Dad who is to lead, protect, and be present for them. I will be transparent and say that I was scared at first to share this news with them in fear of how they would respond.

Would they be angry? Would they feel like they did not matter? Would they think a stranger was being placed in front of them? These and many other insecure thoughts swirled around my mind. All of that changed quickly when I sat down with each of them one by one to explain everything and to then hear their own little hearts. And each of them– in their own unique way through the lens of a child—communicated to me their fears, hopes, and raw thoughts concerning this operation for a child none of us know but are all praying for desperately.

I want to share their responses because I believe it highlights something so important for today’s world: the best parenting is and always will be through example. Michelle (who does a far better job than myself) and I both are so proud of their demeanor and outlook on what Mommy and Daddy are about to walk through. We are not the poster-child parents. We struggle and make mistakes. But they are showing us that maybe we are doing a thing or two OK. Here is their story.

Caleb Schumacher. Ten years old.

Caleb has always been our nervous one. He is always anxious and fretting about everything from a new update on Fortnite and its long length of time to getting to basketball practice on time to everything else you could imagine. And so naturally, my biggest fear was crippling anxiety that would make it really hard for him to have peace through all of this.

The day I found out I could not donate to my mom Michelle had explained to the kids. And so, when I got home they all gave me huge hugs. My eyes were swollen and red. They knew. Caleb quickly embraced me and told me it was OK, and he was proud of me anyways. It was later that night at tuck in time that I sat down with Caleb and told him how everything went down. But at the end of the conversation I said, “But Caleb, it turns out that my liver is the ideal size and shape for a child-like yourself who isn’t going to make it. A child who probably can’t run fast, jump high, or live a normal life.” I explained all the details.

And there I was… silently awaiting his response. I watched his young mind grapple with everything I told him. I could not save his Nana. He felt relief I was not going to get surgery. Now he was realizing I was going to go through with surgery. Not for Nana but now for a stranger. An unknown child. Those few seconds felt like months.

He looked at me, straight into my eyes and said, “Is this what Jesus would do?” I said, “Yea buddy. I think this is what Jesus would do.” He said, “Then we are going to do it. Wow, we get to save a child.” I immediately teared up.  Embraced him and told him how proud I was of him. I felt so good as a parent as did Michelle. Following this he did hug me tightly, cry many tears, and share his fears. He is worried I could die due to complication. He is worried about the pain. He is worried about many things that could happen to his Daddy. But none of those things were enough for him to doubt for even a second that it was the right thing to do.

Not only did he integrate his faith in Jesus into this reasoning, but he also used the plural pronoun “We” as in, “We get to save a child.” Make no mistake. That has taken years of parenting my Michelle and me.

Me and Caleb doing our nightly devotional. Studying and praying together.

For Caleb to both bring Jesus into the equation and include himself on this journey is a product of some intentional parenting Michelle and I strive for. We believe that our children are not a distraction from life but rather a gift given to be integrated into the life we are already living. And so, they serve with mommy and daddy. They help make decisions. We show and teach them Jesus each day the best we can. I teach all three something new from Scripture every most nights. We’ve done this for years. And it turns out, this is why. For moments like these.

Before I share the response of Kennedy and Camden let me give one more insight into how Michelle and I seek to raise our children. There are three things that each of our children know that matter the most. Every day I take the kids to school they repeat them back to me. For three years now we have done this. They have been the same three things. They can say them in their sleep. They are: 1) I am a Schumacher 2) I am loved, and 3) I am a follower of Jesus.

This first one means that they belong. They have a home and a family to call their own. They do not need to try to be something they aren’t to belong to another different group. This deals with their identity. The second one is clear. They are loved by us, their family, their church, their friends, and most importantly their God. And lastly, the most important, we are all followers of Jesus. Of course, one day they will need to make that decision on their own at baptism. But as children we seek to instill within them the radical love, grace, and mercy of Jesus. Turns out, it paid off in this season of our lives. Now, on to Kennedy… my princess.

Kennedy. Seven years old.

Date night for me and my girl. Yes, we sat on the same side of the table. 🙂

Kennedy has always been our most sensitive and unpredicatable one. We never know what we are going to get! That is why we love her. Among many other reasons of course. Kennedy and I have a bond that is deep and precious. When her and mommy but heads she always comes to me and I simply cannot stand against her. Her cuteness and sweetness melts me and I am powerless. And wow, the wrath of an angry wife and mom when that happens. It isn’t good. But I have yet to figure out how to overcome Kennedy’s charm. I know she has a weakness. I just haven’t found it yet.

I knew talking to her was going to be the hardest of the three. And I was right. As I sat in her bed one evening at tuck in time and explained everything to her as I shared with Caleb I awaited her response. There were no words. She did not utter any sentences. Nothing. She was looking down. She then lifted her head at me. Her eyes began to well up like a cup being filled with water. Her chin wrinkled. Her cheeks turned red. And she let it out and my heart broke.

She gasped and cried aloud and flung her arms around my neck so tight it knocked me back. I felt like a horrible parent. Here I am making a decision causing pain in my little girls heart. She sobbed and sobbed on my shoulder. And it was what she said next that brought me to tears but also encouraged me that she would be OK. She pulled herself back from my chest. From my shirt which was soaked with tears. And with her beautiful blue eyes she looked at me and said, “Daddy, I am so nervous for you. I am so scared for you. It’s going to hurt. You are going to be in pain. But it’s OK. You can do this. Its OK.” I said, “Kennedy are you sure?  Do you know why we are doing this?” She said, “We are doing it because of what we say each day right? We are followers of Jesus?” I smiled. I put my arms around her and brought her in close. And in her ear, I softly said, “Yes hunny. It’s because we are followers of Jesus.” And then she wiped her tears and gave me a smile and said, “Can you just stay and sing me a song?” And so we sang our song an extra couple times that night.

I have taken Kennedy and Caleb to the Monastery at different times together. There we will pray and we always light a candle to represent those we pray for.

Again, she brought her faith into the occasion as well as “We.” Proud moment number 2.

Camden. Four years old.

Date day with me and Cam. One of our favorite things to do: go hiking!

Well if there was ever a curve ball response waiting to come it was going to be Camden. Our 4 year-old is easily our loudest, craziest, funniest, and most precious little guy. He is a ball of light and where ever he rolls he brings joy and laughter. I have never seen a child with energy like our little Camden. If he was deprived of all sugar and sleep for even a day—he would still run circles around the greatest marathoner on the planet. That’s our Camden. He is, as I always call him, our little man of God!

The night I shared this with Kennedy and Caleb was rough. An emotional day for all of us. Well, Camden heard Kennedy’s crying. He knew something was up. He barged in like 8 times while I was talking and singing to Kennedy. He likes to do that often. Even on mommy and daddy. Even at 1, 2, 3, 4 in the morning. It’s kinda “his thing.”

Well when it was his turn I came in and explained everything to him on his level. I wish I had such an in depth and spiritually earth-shattering response to write about. But I don’t. However, it was his response that I think I will remember the most. After sharing everything to him he just laid there. I knew he was thinking about everything. Trying to make sense of it all. I made sure he understood I was going to be just fine. That I wasn’t going to die or but that the surgery was still extremely serious and some risks were  involved. We do two things in our house really well: transparency and honesty.

This is in the middle of an actual Christmas play. Camden decided it would be the ideal time to act like a monkey.

And so after a few seconds of quiet reflecting I just asked him, “Are you OK with this buddy? Do you understand?” He turned his head up at me and said one priceless sentence.

He said, “Sure Daddy. You’ll be fine. But Daddy? Will you please play Minecraft with me tomorrow? I want to build something with you.”

“Sure buddy. You and I will play tons of Minecraft and build something awesome.”

“Ok Daddy. Love you. Goodnight!” I’ll take it. 🙂

Christmas 2018

Imperfect Parents Doing the Best We Can

Michelle and I are not perfect parents by any means. We have our struggles. Too many electronics. Not firm on limits. Too messy at the dinner table. Late bed times. “What’s that? Haven’t been to the dentist in a while? Ahhh!” Havent bathed in two nights? The list goes on. We are imperfect parents doing the best we can. But the one thing I will say about Michelle and I is we have never ceased from magnifying what matters most to them. And forever they will know what matters most:

They are loved.

They are Schumachers.

They are Followes of Jesus.

We hate the Michigan Wolverines.

I encourage you parents out there. If you want to aim at being the best at something; make sure its your example of love, compassion, and the teachings of Jesus as imperfectly as you can.

The response of our children has blessed us greatly. The response of my wife Michelle however, is what has moved me in ways she will never know. More on that soon.

Thanks everyone.

#EverybodyAlways #GoAndDoLikewise