The NHS blood service sent me an email this week to tell me that my last blood donation, after processing, went to the Royal Chesterfield Hospital. I was strangely moved by this information. I've known that my previous donations were doing good somewhere, and was happy enough about that, but the specifics of this new information touched me at a point my more general 'do-goodery' didn't.
So, someone in the Chesterfield area is now (I hope) healthier, from my giving an hour of my time (and very probably several others donated in the batch which went to Chesterfield) to donate blood . The repercussions crowd in. What of that person's family? Are they now relieved, off tenterhooks, calmer, as as result of this transfusion? Speculation could go on and on.
Somehow it's the parable of the sower again, in a very different context to what Jesus imagined as he spoke it. A small gift from me, a life is changed, and the family breathe once again. Maybe this qualifies for 'thirtyfold' - I'm content with that.
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