Donate Life.

I have seen these words and this logo more in the last three days than I have in my entire life. They are everywhere now—on walls, paperwork, screens, badges. But more than that, they are etched into my heart.

Maybe it’s because they suddenly mean something different.

Maybe it’s because for the first time, they aren’t just words.

They are personal. They are sacred. They are heavy with meaning.

Somewhere in this nation right now, there is a family living their worst day. A day they never imagined they would face. A day filled with shock, heartbreak, and a grief so deep it settles into your bones. They are saying goodbye to someone they loved fiercely—someone who had a laugh, a story, favorite things, inside jokes, and a place at their table that will never be filled the same way again.

Their loss is devastating. And yet, in the middle of that pain, they chose love.

To be an organ donor is brave.

It is selfless.
It is choosing to give even when everything has been taken from you.

Somewhere there is a mother saying goodbye to her son, memorizing his face, wishing for just one more moment.
Somewhere there is a father holding his baby girl one last time, whispering words she can’t respond to but can surely feel. Somewhere there is a husband or wife leaning in close, finishing vows that promised in sickness and in health… even unto death.

I am not unfamiliar with grief.

I’ve studied it.

I’ve been trained in it.

I’ve lived it.

And I witness it every single day through hospice.

Even with all of that, the weight of what this family must be experiencing breaks my heart in ways I can’t fully explain.
There is nothing I can do right now to say thank you to this person.

No words.
No gesture.

Nothing that could ever fully honor the magnitude of this gift.

This individual clearly believed in donating life. Their legacy is literally saving others. And if sharing this logo, if pausing for just a moment, gets even one person to consider being an organ donor—then something meaningful comes from unimaginable loss.

I carry gratitude, humility, and sorrow all at once. I do not take this gift lightly. Not for a second.

I hope and pray that I live a life worthy of this liver.

That I honor this person in how I love, how I serve, and how I show up in this world.

That every breath I take reflects the depth of this sacrifice.

This is more than a transplant.
This is love continuing when words are no longer possible.

And I will never forget it.