keeping a part of David alive. And I gave him a picture of David.
We had always been glad that we had donated David's organs, but the full meaning of the gift hadn't hit me until that minute. Here was a man who never thought he would live to see his sons in high school, but he has. He had been on the waiting list for a heart for two years, because of viral damage to his heart. And before David died, Jim had been hospitalized for forty-eight days, not knowing whether he would live long enough to receive a new heart. Now he's an active dad and husband, looking forward to grandchildren one day.
Meeting Jim Kane gave me back my life.
Seeing his happiness and how much his family loved him snapped me out of the depression I had been in since David's death. When David first died, I really lost all faith in God and everything else. I was just so angry—at life, at God, at every single thing I could think of. I was just a shell of a person.
But Jim completely turned my life around. I knew I had to dedicate myself to promoting organ donation from that moment forward. No one knows more than I do how hard it can be for the donor family. But meeting Jim, I also fully understood what a true gift of life it is.
Once I met Jim and became active in promoting organ donation, I was able to begin my own healing process. It soothed me to know that I was really helping other people. Organ donation is such an emotionally difficult topic, and that's why doctors avoid it so often. They wait and wait to find the right time to talk to the family about it. But that perfect moment rarely comes. You just have to step up and ask anyway—so others can live.
I also started visiting families who had lost teens. I don't even know how that started. But when I would read in the paper about a teen who had died, I knew I had to see that family. I would just pick up the phone and introduce myself. I wanted to be with them. No one could understand their pain better than someone who had been through it. I just want to bring them whatever comfort I possibly could.
Since we met, Jim and I have participated in many public events together. We've spoken at meetings and seminars. We walked a Toys for Tots road race together. I've handed out donor cards at several Boston Marathons and worked for the National Kidney Foundation for several years now, including their motorcycle run.
Last year, we got very involved with a little girl in our community of Attleboro, Massachusetts, who needed a liver transplant. We had read about her story in the paper, and called the family to say we were there to help. We volunteered for everything—blood drives, fund-raising, giving out organ donor cards. When she finally got her liver, I went to the hospital and spent the night with the family. And the little girl did just great.
Our story—actually, the story of David and Jim—has received a lot of publicity. And we think that's great. Because every time someone hears about us, we know that one more family is considering organ donation. And one more family waiting in a hospital room has been given new hope.
So every time I see someone sign a donor card, I give thanks.
“David,” I say, “look what you've done. This is your legacy.”
There are many ways you can give the gift of life. Find out how to become involved. Contact:The National Kidney Foundation, 30 East 33rd Street, New York, New York 10016. Tel: 800-622-9010. In Canada, contact The Kidney Foundation of Canada National Office, 300-5165 Sherbrooke Street West, Montreal, QC H4A IT6. E-mail: [email protected].
CHAPTER3
A Solid Foundation
MILLARD FULLER
MY MOTHER DIED WHEN I WAS THREE YEARS OLD, and a few years later my father married the church organist. So from the time I was very young, church was a big part of our lives. We had church and Sunday school on Sunday mornings, prayer service on Wednesday nights, and revivals every fall.
Our church took care of its own—but only its own. If a member became sick, the preacher and other church members went to see them and always brought flowers. It was a loving and caring fellowship, and that's not bad. But we never reached a hand out farther than our own little circle. There was, of course, support for foreign missionary work, but little outreach locally.
I can tell you now for sure, that hand never reached out far enough.__________________________________
My family always played an active role in our church and we were serious about wanting to follow God. But my father emphasized that financial success in the eyes of the world was always important, too. So I knew, growing up, that I wanted to make a big pile of money one day. I decided I could get rich and also be faithful. From elementary school through law school, I always had a money-making project going on the side.
Since I had lost my mother at such a young age, I always dreamed about the type of loving family I would have when I grew up. I married my wife, Linda, when I was twenty-four years old. She was only eighteen at the time. I loved her dearly, but the truth is that as time went along, I became more devoted to making money than to her.
With a partner from law school, I opened a law office in Montgomery, Alabama. Through that business partnership, we made money in just about everything we tried. We sold tractor cushions, we published cookbooks, we sold candy. Everything we did turned into money.
I bought a beautiful house for Linda and hired a maid to help her with the housework and our two children. I made sure she drove a Lincoln Continental. My partner and I bought 2,000 acres of land. We bought cattle and horses. We had a fishing lake, a lake house, and speedboats. And we still attended church pretty regularly. I had set my goals and surpassed them. I was feeling good about my life.
When, in 1964, the company treasurer walked into my office and announced that I was worth a million dollars, I wasn't even surprised.
“What's your next goal?” she asked me.
“Ten million,” I answered without hesitation. “Why not?”
But not too long after that, Linda walked into my office and told me something that changed my life forever.
“Millard, I don't love you anymore,” she said through her tears. “You are married to your business. I loved you at one time, but I don't even know who you are any more. I can't stay in this loveless marriage.”
I was so stunned, so shocked, that I don't even remember what I said. Every single thing I had ever been involved with in my life up to that point had been a success. Success was all I knew. It had never even occurred to me that my marriage wouldn't be a success, too.
From where I stood, I had a wonderful wife whom I loved dearly, lovely children, a beautiful home, a successful business. Everything was great. But from where Linda stood, she saw an empty life. And she was a smart lady. She knew the difference between a house filled with things and a home filled with love.
I promised her things would change. But they didn't. A year later, Linda left me and went to New York to seek counseling from a pastor she knew. I felt helpless and, for the first time in my life, totally out of control. I had no idea what to do. I was terrified that I might lose her. So I followed her to New York.
When I saw Linda in New York—and saw the sadness and despair all over her face—it just broke my heart. I resolved to do whatever it took to keep our family together.
