I donated blood last week. This is in contrast to the four instances when I tried to last year, but failed. A couple of times the air conditioning broke down and the Red Cross cannot operate below a certain temperature. Another day I forgot my I.D. and it turns out they are picky about that. My daughter tells a joke about someone trying to give blood and is put off by inquiries like "Where did you get it? Why is it in a bucket?"  Personally I find portions of the routine questionnaire to be invasive, implying skanky behavior.     

 

Anyway this time all the conditions aligned and I was indeed cleared to roll up my sleeve and lie prone. I watched the trail of disposable needles, and finger pokers, tubing and labels that are part and parcel to the process of extracting a pint of blood. Add to that the hourly wage of the assorted vertical people in the room and it seems a costly ordeal. How is it that the liquid pulsing through my veins is of such great value? Scientists have been able to concoct substitute knees, hips, and corneas, but artificial blood still eludes them. Yet somehow my body faithfully produces it without the slightest assistance from me. My type seems to be of special interest as well, being B negative. 

 

For a ridiculous moment I felt magnanimous. Volunteers do after all hand out stickers that announce my generous status, and offer rewards like pretzels. After his hundredth time giving John came home with a t-shirt. But how am I deserving of the merest portion of praise? 

 

I asked a group of friends to consider what ways they bestow blessings to others, especially when that offering is itself a gift. One mentioned time, particularly full attention. Another talked about patience, especially with teenagers who can deplete a mother's reserve. One woman described how it feels to share music, which has enriched her own life deeply. Their stories seemed impervious to artificial substitutes too. People can tell if you are not really listening, or your patience is thinly disguised annoyance. 

 

Yet each of these marvelous qualities arrive unbeckoned every day, for us to either hoard or share with abandon. More astonishing still is the miracle that I can give freely and often in an almost inexhaustible fashion. Which all serves to remind me that I don't want to be negative.