Dangerous Blood

"For you have not been given the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you have been given the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry "ABBA! Father!" Romans 8:15

It was a joke, or so she said. I believe there's truth in every joke, and whether or not she believed her own words, they were, indeed, true.
"I think they sent me home with the wrong baby because you are not mine."

It didn't take me long to realize that she was right, and that I was glad about it. For years I didn't know what to make of her, and she was, still is, one person of only a few people I have almost no idea how to love. She might have been wrong to say that, but what she said was right. I did not belong to her.

On Wednesday, March 13 of this year cries of "Habemus Papam!" (Latin for "We have a pope") could be heard on the news or seen blowing up the Facebook newsfeeds of Catholics and Protestants alike. I was sitting in my apartment watching the announcement, one among the Protestant masses interested in the ceremony for historical purposes. In a Constitutional Law class across campus sat a young woman I have invested in, and a young woman who has taught me mighty things. After the papal announcement that young woman and I met in a building on our campus to do something I had never done before: We were going to give blood. I had always been told I shouldn't give blood because of my small stature, but my iron count was well above the minimum for giving, so I went for it.

I was asked to give my blood type, and I had to answer honestly that I didn't know. No one knew, I had asked people who should've known multiple times, but no one knew. The Red Cross ladies told me it didn't matter, that they would check it, and they began the process of taking what they needed.  I sat in the chair and remembered that someone once told me I had to have blood transfusions as a very premature infant.  I was humbled as I realized that had it not been for someone else sitting in a chair much like I was then sitting in I might not be sitting in that chair at all. In 1986 blood transfusions were dangerous...technology had not yet advanced to a place where blood was well screened, and AIDS was coming on the American radar... but...by God's grace, I had been saved by someone else's blood, and spared from any negative consequence.  I thanked God for that generous person who gave generously to a little girl he/she would never know.  I was glad to do the same. I also felt grieved because I didn't feel proud of the blood in my veins...the people who had given me life, I struggled with the idea that my blood somehow matched theirs.  After they took my blood I left with a cool t-shirt and went on my way, sleeping very soundly that night, but otherwise having no physical symptoms of being one pint lighter than before. The Holy Spirit spoke to me and told me not to be grieved. Outside the doors someone in my law school class told me that she wouldn't be surprised if I was the "universal giver" type. I told her I had no idea of my blood type.
A week or two later I got an envelope from the American Red Cross. Inside I knew there would be a donor card bearing the information I did not know, my blood type.

I know very little about my biological parents, really, I know little more than their full names, birthdays, and ages, even though I lived with one of them for years. Among the "little more" I know is their blood types. A+ for him, and O+ for her. I expected to match her, seeing as incompatibility between mother and child can often lead to health problems...
I opened that card and got the shock of my life. It bore my name and the words O Negative.
God laughed. "See, you don't even have their blood type."
For those who wonder... O Negative is the universal giver.
It's cool. I'm grateful for it. It's also dangerous. Because O- blood can be GIVEN to anyone, but people who have O- blood can't take anything else. It reminds me of Jesus...His blood was dangerous too. They called him a fraud, maliciously called Him a king, nailed Him to a tree, and somehow believed this blood was dangerous as it flowed freely for their sake.
Dangerous. Transfused in a time before it was safe, not compatible with the  biological host parent, universally given, but not able to universally receive. My blood is dangerous.

Tonight I came out of my second class at 9PM, and against the wall sat a young woman I dearly love. She wore a hoodie, a dark ponytail, and a mischievous smile, if you see us together, you might see a bit of resemblance, it wouldn't surprise me. Jenny Rose is my sister, we've both been adopted, I think we look alike. (Poor Jenny) ;)  She startled me concealed behind the wall and I called her a creeper sister. She apologized to a classmate of mine for freaking her out, and we were on our way. Of course, we don't do anything the typical way, so, instead of walking beside me, Jenny jumped on my scooter's back and rode it the whole way home...I mean, what are little sisters for if not to be on your back? :) Blood doesn't mean much for Jenny, or for me, family is family...in order to show that to me, God made me with blood that is dangerous. Blood that doesn't match the scenario... He's God and He did that on purpose. Oh, I'm sorry, does that scare you? People always say "the devil is in the details" but frankly, the devil is neither a big picture guy, nor a detail freak, he doesn't know anything he isn't told, and most of the time, we help him by giving him more power than he had, or deserves. The devil, the enemy, he isn't even dangerous.
But...
You are.
You are an heir to the most High God. You have been cleansed and called His own by dangerous blood.
I have blood that doesn't match the scenario...it is dangerous on so many levels.

I'm adopted. (In more ways than one) So are you. (In at least one way) My blood is dangerous. So was His. It's more fun that way. So there. 

Live Dangerously,

<3 Courtney