From The Mind Of Wag...

Every time Ruth needed the waffle iron, she had to move the good plates. There were twelve of them, stacked behind a set of matching cups on the highest shelf. White china. A thin blue border. Small yellow flowers she had once known the name of. She had chosen them forty-three years earlier. Back then, she had imagined a house full of people. The plates had mostly stayed in the cupboard. Her granddaughter came over on a Tuesday because the school had a plumbing problem. “Just until three”, her daughter said on the phone. “Bring her.” By eleven, there were colored pencils across the kitchen table and a sweater hanging from the back of a chair. Ruth opened a can of tomato soup. “Grilled cheese?” “Yes, please.” Lucy was nine and had recently begun saying please with an exaggerated seriousness, as though someone might be keeping track. Ruth reached for two everyday plates. One had a gray mark across the middle. The other was chipped on the edge, where you only noticed it while washing. “C...

Voltaire believed he had seen the beginning of the end. The celebrated French philosopher had spent years criticizing Christianity and challenging the credibility of the Bible. Then, according to the story, he made a bold prediction: “One hundred years from my day, there will not be a Bible on earth except one examined by an antiquarian.” Voltaire died in 1778. Christianity did not. The Bible did not disappear. Instead, the story tells us that something wonderfully ironic happened. Within a few decades of Voltaire’s death, a Bible society purchased his former home and converted it into a warehouse filled with Bibles. Some versions add an even more satisfying detail: The printing press Voltaire had used to attack Christianity was eventually used to print the very book he believed would disappear. The skeptic was gone. His prediction had failed. And his house had become a distribution center for the book he could not destroy. It is the kind of story preachers love. It is tidy. Memorable....

There’s a question about organ donation that people sometimes hesitate to ask. Not because it isn’t important. But because it involves something deeply personal. “If I become an organ donor, can my family still have an open-casket funeral?” The answer is yes. In most cases, organ donation does not prevent an open-casket funeral. And understanding why matters. A Question About Dignity When someone we love dies, how we say goodbye matters. For some families, an open-casket funeral is part of that goodbye. It provides an opportunity to see their loved one one last time. To gather. To remember. To honor a life. And the thought that organ donation might take that opportunity away can create understandable hesitation. What will happen to their body? Will they still look like themselves? Will we be able to have the funeral we planned? Those aren’t unreasonable questions. They’re questions about dignity, respect and the people we love. What Actually Happens Organ recovery is performed by train...

The first time someone asked him what he did, Daniel answered out of habit. “I’m the principal at—” Then he stopped. He had retired six weeks earlier. “Was”, he said. “I was the principal.” The woman smiled and asked which school. He told her. They talked for another minute before someone called her across the room. Nothing uncomfortable had happened. Still, on the drive home, he kept hearing that one word. Was. For twenty-eight years, he had known how to introduce himself. There was a school attached to his name. A building he could point to. A reason people called. Now he gave his name and waited for the next question. On Thursday, his daughter asked whether he could pick up his grandson from school. “Just this once”, she said. “I have an appointment.” He arrived twenty minutes early. When Owen climbed into the car, he dropped his backpack between his feet and pulled the door shut harder than necessary. “How was your day?” “Fine.” Daniel put the car in drive. At the first light, he n...

The map had no roads. No highways. No street names. No distances between towns. Just a handful of crooked lines, several small circles and a few words written in the shaky handwriting of an old man. He found it folded inside his father’s Bible. At first, he thought it was a child’s drawing. The paper had yellowed, and the folds had become so thin he was afraid they might tear when he opened it. In the upper right corner, his father had written two words. For Daniel. That was his name. He sat down. His father had been gone for almost six months and Daniel had finally begun sorting through the things he’d left behind. Most of it was ordinary. Old receipts. Reading glasses. A collection of pens that no longer worked. Birthday cards saved for reasons no one could explain. His father had never been a man who threw much away. Daniel had inherited that habit, although he would have denied it. He studied the paper again. Near the top was a small circle labeled The Big Oak. Below it, another ci...

There’s a moment after a successful transplant when it can look like the story is over. The failing organ is gone. The donated organ is working. The recipient survived. Eventually, there may be pictures of them smiling. Going home. Returning to work. Celebrating a transplant anniversary. Living again. From the outside, it can look like: They’re fixed. But there’s something important to understand about organ transplantation: A transplant can save your life without ending your medical story. The Body Knows It Isn’t Yours A transplanted organ may be exactly what someone needs to stay alive. But the recipient’s immune system doesn’t understand the story behind it. It doesn’t know about the donor. It doesn’t understand the gift. It doesn’t know that this organ is the reason its owner is still alive. It recognizes something foreign. And its natural response can be to attack and kill it. That is rejection. So transplant recipients need medications that suppress (fool) the immune system and h...