Taylor's Gift (32 page)

The Gift of Time

P
ATRICIA
W
INTERS
A
RIZONA

Patricia beamed as she and her family walked through the gates of the Magic Kingdom and entered the happiest place on earth. After months of lying on the couch, barely having enough energy to watch her boys play by themselves on the floor, she couldn't believe she was finally here with them. Seeing the joy in her boys' eyes when they looked up and down Main Street was all the proof she needed that the park really lived up to its claims.

“Where do you want to go first?” she asked.

The boys were too overwhelmed to answer.

“Let's head over this way,” she said, spotting a sign that pointed to “The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.”

For years, Patricia had just wished for enough energy to take the boys to the playground minutes from their house. Now, less than a year after her transplant, they were spending three days together as a family, walking, talking, riding rides, and making memories. It truly was a dream come true.

As the kids chatted about all the things they wanted to do at the park, Patricia thought of all the things she could now do that she couldn't before. The biggest one was that she could now
breathe
.

With her ever-present illness, the past few years had been especially hard. Medical bills had mounted, then Joe had lost his job, and then they'd lost their dream house. But she didn't care about that anymore. Though the house was beautiful when they moved in, she'd been sick most of the time they'd lived there and couldn't really appreciate it. Now it held only negative memories. The new house felt like a fresh start. Though their home was smaller, their fun had increased.

That wasn't the only thing that had increased. Patricia felt as if her heart was bigger. She couldn't really explain why. Could it have been all the lessons—like patience and compassion—she'd learned from being ill? It was hard for her type A personality to slow down, but she'd had to because of her illness. Now she had a greater understanding of those who moved a little slower than she did—such as the elderly and disabled. Or was it because she didn't take anything for granted anymore? Ordinary events took on greater meaning. “Each birthday and holiday is so special,” she said. She believed that having a long-term illness made her a better parent because she started looking at things through the eyes of her children.

But her perspective changed in other ways too.

The illness and financial problems had been hard on her marriage and other close relationships. Patricia found herself having to forgive those closest to her for things they'd done that hurt her. In the past, Patricia would have just walked away, but now she had a new perspective about what was really important. “Knowing you were almost snuffed out can be a gift because it clarifies things for you,” Patricia told her friends. “You learn that houses and things don't matter. People do.”

Patricia felt as though her old heart was limited in how much it could love, but with Taylor's heart her capacity had grown. One
of the easiest ways for her to see it was when she was with Tara. Patricia would say that she wasn't a huggy-touchy-feely kind of person and that she didn't express her love that way. But when she was with Tara, she did. “Every time I leave her, my heart aches,” said Patricia. “I just have this sense of loss when we say goodbye. It's a new feeling for me.”

Patricia has a greater sense of purpose too. She knows that life is a gift, and she doesn't want anger, lack of forgiveness, or other relationship problems to get in the way of whatever time she has left. Instead she resolves issues quickly so she can get on to what she needs to do—such as being a mother. Though being a mother to Jack and Sam is her most important job, Patricia still works as a nurse, teaching prenatal classes. In addition, she helps out with Taylor's Gift, supporting the Storches in their foundation's mission.

If her boys ever look back on those dark days, Patricia hopes they will see her determination and perseverance. It would have been so much easier to give up, but she didn't. She fought hard because she loved them so much. She also knew it wasn't her fight that won the battle. There were so many times during her illness that she shouldn't have made it, and yet she did. The only explanation that made sense to her was that God had divinely intervened in her life to keep her alive until she got the perfect heart.

So through the Storches' decision, Taylor's gift, and God's grace, Patricia was able to give her boys the gift her own dad wasn't able to give her—more time.

And for that, she is eternally grateful.

The Gift of Freedom

J
ONATHAN
F
INGER
C
OLORADO

The Register
's Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa, better known as RAGBRAI, is the oldest and largest bicycle touring event in the world, with more than twenty thousand riders. It's like the Tour de France in Iowa, only instead of French countryside there's corn, lots of corn. But Jonathan didn't even know that much about the seven-day tour when he agreed to form a team with some of his online piano forum friends. He just thought it sounded like fun.

After researching the ride, Jonathan knew it would be a demanding physical challenge. The ride was nearly five hundred miles long, from the Missouri River to the Mississippi River, and the route wasn't flat—the first two days alone would have climbs of about four thousand feet each—and Jonathan would have to ride sixty to eighty miles a day up and down rolling hills. The ride would take place the last week of July 2011. He agreed to do it just a few months after his transplant in the fall of 2010, which didn't leave him a lot of time to recover and train.

In addition to having a new kidney to take care of, Jonathan had a history of heart problems that would complicate his ability to physically push himself. To participate in RAGBRAI, Jonathan would have to train hard for months, and some of that time included the Colorado winter months when he wouldn't be able to bike outdoors. Even under perfect training conditions, Jonathan knew he would be physically pushing his body further than it had ever been pushed. Even training as hard as he possibly could wouldn't guarantee that he'd have the strength and stamina required to make it to the end of the seven-day tour.

But Jonathan was determined to do it. The team would be riding for his favorite charity—Taylor's Gift Foundation.

As Jonathan trained for RAGBRAI, and began to take longer rides on his bike, he found riding gave him more opportunities to think. There was a cadence to pedaling. The sound of the sprocket teeth making their way through the bike chain had its own rhythm—calming and invigorating, peaceful and energizing, all at the same time. When he shifted gears, there was a clicking sound as the derailleur and chain shifted from one sprocket to the next. Relearning how to gear a bike and how to pedal were key parts of his training. It became the music that underscored his thoughts.

Day after day, as the wind hit his face and the sun warmed his back, he rode and he thought. He noticed how his thinking had changed. For years, he had been so busy thinking only of himself—his health, his dialysis, and his physical needs—that he hadn't been able to spend much time thinking about others. As he rode, he began to reminisce about his relationships with friends and family. It was as if he had a new freedom to think about others rather than just himself. Having that emotional freedom, alongside his new physical freedom, would take some getting used to as he began seeing and feeling the world differently.

After training for months, Jonathan headed to Iowa to meet up with his online friends. The first few days of RAGBRAI went pretty much as expected. The ride was tough but manageable. Most teams rode together, one rider in front to reduce the drag for those behind, switching to a new front rider with fresh legs when the leader tired. But Team Taylor's Gift was small, and it soon became apparent that there were big differences in skill and endurance levels. Jonathan had been riding seriously for less than a year, and he hadn't been able to build up all the stamina he needed. He couldn't keep pace with the others, and they would often have to slow down to keep pace with him. Jonathan eventually told the other riders it was okay for them to go on without him. He'd just catch up to them at the final stop at the end of each day.

Alone with the cadence of his pedaling, Jonathan's thoughts turned inward. He knew he was stronger than he'd been since his teens, when the kidney disease had taken over. But how strong was he? Who was he?

For years, he'd seen himself as a vulnerable patient—someone who needed to be taken care of. When he was sick, he'd often feel weak and fearful. It was hard when he felt that way, and he knew it affected all of his relationships. But riding through Iowa on his bike, surrounded by hundreds of people yet all alone, Jonathan started to change the way he felt about himself. Each day's ride gave him new confidence and helped him know he wasn't the weak link in the chain anymore; he was the strong one, the overcomer who had survived against all odds. He began to think about what this meant for his relationships. He knew now he wouldn't have to be the focus of a relationship; for the first time, he could give and receive love equally. That one thought was exciting and freeing. From now on, his relationships wouldn't have to be defined by who could take care of him.

A few days into RAGBRAI, Jonathan stared at the approaching hill—Twister Hill—and wondered if he had enough left in him to make it to the top. The hill was already taking out more experienced riders who had dismounted to push their bikes to the top. Jonathan had already come so far physically, mentally, and emotionally that he didn't want to give up. But he was afraid he might have to. His legs were spent, and his hands and arms were numb from gripping the bike handles. He knew he could walk his bike up the hill and still be proud of the job he'd done. There would be no shame in pushing his bike to the top. It wasn't the destination, it wasn't the prize, and it wasn't even the end of the ride. This was just another obstacle in a much longer tour.

But as he approached the hill, he thought back to that dark day in the hospital when he'd wanted to die. Father Seraphim had stopped by, and Jonathan had asked him if it was okay to give up. Father Seraphim had assured him that it was his choice but reminded him of how valiantly he'd fought to make it that far. Jonathan remembered that exhaustion and how much he'd wanted to give up. Yet somehow he'd found the strength to push through, and years later he could see how that decision had paid off with a new kidney and the promise of a new life.

At the base of the hill, Jonathan's legs were screaming in pain. The sweat had soaked through the jersey on his back and mixed with the sunscreen on his face. As it dripped off his forehead, his eyes stung. But once again, Jonathan made the decision to fight. He shifted gears on his bike and pressed hard on the pedals, trying to maintain his speed as he ascended the hill. He knew that the victory was virtually meaningless. Even if he made it to the top, the ride and the mental fight continued for another twenty-five miles that day alone—and there were two more days ahead of him. But Jonathan chose to fight his way up the hill, even knowing the fight wouldn't be easy.

“We always think we're at the end of our rope, but we're not,” Jonathan said. “It's such an important exercise to realize we can do much more than we think we can.”

Wearing his Taylor's Gift “Be a Hero” jersey, Jonathan triumphantly made it to the top of the hill that day and rode to the finish line. It was a physical accomplishment, but it was also a mental journey—much like his life.

“I feel like I have more capacity to love now than I did. I haven't always had the energy, or the desire, or the resources to make decisions and be a proactive part of anything, and now I can,” he said.

Taylor's gift has given Jonathan freedom. He has more time, greater health, the ability to play music, and the ability to push himself physically. But perhaps his greatest freedom isn't a physical one—it's an emotional one. Jonathan now has the freedom to love others fully.