My mom surrendered…


Warning: If you haven’t already, you’ll need to read my previous post, Transplant., for context.

The days I was in a coma, during the transplant itself and the few days after aren’t really my part of the story. That part belongs to the people surrounding my parents in the worst moments of their lives. It’s a story of people on their knees praying like they have never prayed before. It’s a story full of prayer, desperation, faith and hope. There are so many stories, so many people- but the main voices at this point are those of my mom, my dad and my sister. Let’s start with…

My Mom

Like a child, I never tire of hearing certain stories. I especially love my mom’s story of when I was in a coma. Her words say it best:

My own journey with God during the longest weekend of my life was really quite intimate. Because you see not for one minute did I feel that God had abandoned us. I believe that He was there with us experiencing all our emotions and giving me strength that I never thought I possessed. You see, I have never been very good with medical situations. I have always counted on Mark, or prayed I would just never have to deal with anything serious. Never would I have believed that I could have stood by my daughters bed side, with all the tubes and machine and hold up…but God held me up. I did not think that we were being punished or that God had done this to teach us something. As people said, ‘why Lisa’, my heart responded why someone else and not Lisa. At one point though I remember telling God that I had given my children to Him but now I was drawing the line, He couldn’t have her yet. How silly of me, but how understanding and loving God was to listen and understand. Somewhere in my journey I was able to finally surrender and tell God that I knew no matter what happened Lisa would be okay, either with Him or me, but that if He got her, He would have a very sad woman to deal with. I know it was selfish. God understood. And you know, by His grace He let me keep her a little longer. He knew that the world still needed her a little longer and that He would wait. He also knew that He would be glorified through this and many would see His hand in her healing and give glory to Him. Oh God, thank you for giving her back to us. We are so sorry that someone had to die for her to live. Like Jesus dying for us to live. What a profound illustration. We pray for the family who lost their mother. We pray that Lisa’s life makes their grief a little easier to deal with. Such conflicted emotions, the greatest being overwhelming gratitude.”


This is the sentence that forces me to pause:

“Somewhere in my journey I was able to finally surrender…”

I’m really bad at surrendering. I like control. I like to hold on to things really tight and try to make things work out the way I want them to.

Surrender for me sounds much more like this:  “Somewhere in the last hour I was able to finally surrender..for about 10 minutes or so….”

Having two kids of my own now, I can’t imagine being my mom’s shoes. I can’t fathom sitting by my daughter’s side watching her die. I can’t grasp the shock that she was experiencing as things happened so fast. I can’t even begin to understand the thoughts, the assumptions, the questions that were running through her head.

And in the midst of it all, I don’t know how she did it, but she did- she surrendered.





In some ways this part of my story is the easiest for me to write. Mainly because this part of the story isn’t really mine, mine begins later. This part of my story belongs to my friends who cried at my bedside. This part of my story belongs to our church family that surrounded my parents in the most desperate moments of their lives. This part of the story belongs to strangers who prayed for me all over the country without knowing who I was. But mostly this part of my story belongs to my dad, my mom and my sister. It’s a story of tears, strength, surrender and hope.

I mentioned in my last post that I graduated from high school early and went to serve with YWAM in Los Angeles. I had gotten home late June and going to start college in the fall. Last minute I had gotten a job at a YMCA camp. I was a lifeguard.
Before I go further, let me pause and explain about my relationship with the sun at this point. I LOVED getting sunburnt. I loved the feeling of lying in bed at night with the heat radiating off my back. I had just spend the last six months in California, Mexico and Belize. On top of that, since arriving home, I had spent my days in the sun as a lifeguard. I could probably pass as someone from Central America. This is relevant, I promise.

I woke up one day in early August with a stomach ache. Over the years I have tried to remember what made this particular stomach ache different from any other. All I know is that It was different enough that I called in sick and went to the doctor. The doctor told me that I was constipated-great! I had the rest of the day off so I went to visit a friend. The details at this point start to get a bit fuzzy. I’ve been told that at this point my liver had begun to shut down and I was slowly putting myself in a coma. I drove home early that night because I didn’t feel good.

I kept getting sicker over the weekend. I honestly don’t remember if I threw up, had a fever or just stuck in bed. On Sunday, I decided I needed to get out of the house-I had to go back to work on Monday. I went to my grandma’s. When I walked in the door, she said “Lisa, your eyes are yellow.” At this point in my life jaundice was not a word I had ever heard before. So it was just “yellow”. (This is where the fact that I was super tan becomes important to remember). I went into her bathroom, pulled up my shirt-she was right. Not only were my eyes yellow, my skin was yellow too. You see, I was so tan that I didn’t notice how yellow my skin was. I quickly learned, you don’t want yellow skin.


I went back to the doctor and this time you could say they took a better look. They told me that I had Hepatitis A, which I could have easily gotten from my trip to Belize and Mexico.

I remember nothing from this point forward.

Hepatitis A runs its course. It’s painful and awful, but you can recover from it. So the next day I began going to my doctor to get certain shots that were supposed to help. Quickly I was too weak to even get out of the car.

So I went to the hospital. Why I wasn’t there already is beyond me…I regress.

I was putting myself in a coma. They didn’t know it yet, but my liver was shutting down. Apparently, they didn’t want me to go into a coma-so they kept trying to keep me awake. It didn’t work. I REALLY wish that I could tell you that when I was in a coma I went to heaven and God said something like “It’s not your time yet, I’m sending you back.” It would have been awesome to have a sneak peek into eternity. I didn’t. I actually don’t remember a thing.

There are so many stories that I have heard over the years about what happened during those 4 days (stayed tuned for the next blog post). But I know this, there was A LOT OF PRAYER!


So I didn’t have hepatitis A after all, I had acute liver failure. The reason that I went into a coma is that my liver stopped working: completely, totally, fully. And just so you know, it’s an important organ. You can’t live very long without your liver. In fact, maybe a few days. I had a few days, we were cutting it close.

Because I was in hours of death, my name went to the top of the list for transplants in the upper Midwest. BUT…thousands of people die each day waiting for organs. So people came. People came to pray. People came to cry. People came and brought food. More food. More tears. More prayer. People came to say goodbye.

Like a small child that wants to hear the same bedtime story over and over, I love to hear certain parts of my story. This is one of my favorites. My mom was in the room, rubbing my feet when the doctor came in. He started looking at my stomach and finally looked at my mom and said “I think we can shove it in there.” I can just imagine the look she gave him. “What? We will not be shoving anything in anywhere!”

Well they shoved it in. In the last hours of my life, a woman named Cheri died in a car accident. Her family courageously decided to donate her organs to save the lives of others.


(Cheri with her dogs.)

On August 13th, 2000 in the last hours of life I received a lifesaving liver transplant.

Stay tuned,