I saw my arms covered with goose bumps. I wondered how obvious they were as I sat across the kitchen table from Paul Cardall Friday evening.
I saw courage as I heard fascinating stories from the last few months that led up to his heart transplant which took place a few short weeks ago.
I saw amazing optimism, strength, and sense of humor in light of the fact that his old and worn heart was just replaced with a new one. I'm not ashamed to admit that I got queasy hearing about the surgery. My mind was begging my body: "Please, don't pass out. Please, don't pass out."
I saw hope as we talked about healing, and family, and our favorite episodes of The Office, and redemption, and determination, and our shared belief that everything happens for a reason.
I saw a knowledge that God knows each of us, knows what each of us is capable of, wants to help us, and really loves us. I think there is an insight that only comes to people who have truly walked the tightrope of mortality like Paul has.
I saw his medicine basket piled up with enough bottles to stock a pharmacy. Post-transplant medications seemed like a full course meal big enough to choke a walrus.
I saw goose bumps covering my arms as I heard Paul’s transplant experience. And it wasn’t because his house was cold.