The Congregation of donor families and recipients, at the Service of Thanksgiving,
Auckland Cathedral of The Holy Trinity.

Two liver recipients lighting candles in memory of their donors.

Candles lit by recipients of organs, shown after the service.

From the left, Janet, Val, Bethli, Jane, John and Lynda.
Five happy and healthy liver recipients, and Val, Liver Transplant Co-ordinator.

The Service of Thanksgiving was held at the Auckland Cathedral of The Holy Trinity on Sunday, 29th April.  

The welcome was by The Rt. Revd Richard Randerson, Dean, and then we were lead by the Cathedral Choir in the Hymn "Morning Has Broken".  The Revd Dr Warren Limbrick, Associate Dean then prayed.

Dr. Ed Gane, Hepatologist, New Zealand Liver Transplant Unit read "The Beatitudes" from the gospel of St. Matthew, chapter 5, verses 1 through 10.

Jill, Mother of a Donor, spoke of her son, her loss, and her decision to donate his organs.

The Cathedral Choir sang the anthem "The Lord's Prayer" by New Zealand composer David Hamilton.

Dr. Tony Smith, Intensivist, Auckland Hospital, spoke about his experiences caring for the potential donor / donor and their family, with the emotions that accompany this, and the similar highly emotional situation of caring for the recipients of organs.

The hymn, "Brother, sister let me serve you" written by Richard Gillard was then sung.  After this hymn, all organ transplant recipients were invited to come to the front of the Cathedral to light a candle in memory of their donor.  All the congregation then joined in saying:

"Loving God, we remember with gratitude those who have
given life and hope to others.  We light these candles as a
symbol of this renewal of life and health."

Margie Le Grice spoke movingly about her experience as a recipient of a Donor heart, and what this means to her, concluding her talk with a song she had written herself.

The Revd Susanne Green, Chaplain, Greenlane Hospital, then prayed for the donor families, recipients and their families.

The Rt Revd Richard Randerson reflected on life, suffering, death and the giving and receiving of life through organ transplants, in a talk entitled "Giving and Receiving".  This was followed by the congregation saying a modern version of "The Lord's Prayer".  

The Donor Transplant Co-ordinators Janice Langlands and Ralph Maddison with the assistance of three young organ recipients (including liver recipient, Oliver Polson) then presented a Camelia Plant to all Organ Donor families, in memory of their Donor.  This Camelia is called "Donation".  While this occurred, the Cathedral Choir sang "An Irish Blessing", arranged by David Hamilton.

The service concluded with the choir and congregation singing the hymn "Now thank we all our God", after M. Rinkart (1586-1649) by Catherine Winkworth (1827-1878).

We were invited to stay for a luncheon in the Visitor's Centre to the Cathedral, which gave all the Donor and Recipient families an opportunity to mingle and talk together.

Service of Thanksgiving in recognition of those who have given the gift of life to others was held at the Holy Trinity Cathedral in Parnell, Auckland, on Sunday 2 May, 2010.  The service commenced with a welcome by the Precentor, The Venerable Howard Leigh, which was followed by five stanzas of the hymn of praise by F. S. Pierpont.

          For the beauty of the earth,
          for the beauty of the skies,
          for the love which from our birth,
          over and around us lies,
          Christ our God, to you we raise
          this our hymn of thanks and praise.

The Gathering prayer was:

          God our Creator,
          we gather to remember with thanksgiving
          those who have given life
          through the donation of organs and tissues,
          together with their families,
          and the recipients of their gifts.
         We celebrate with joy the glory of human life
          and the value you place on each of us.
         As we recall both our fragility and our resilience
         we ask that you will deepen our wonder at the
         human body, our reverence for the human spirit
         and our commitment to the human community.
         We ask this for your love’s sake.

Amen.

A Donor family member, Mrs. W. Selby, then reflected on her experiences. 

This was followed by the Heaven Bent Choir singing “Precious Lord”. 

A recipient, Mr. S. Watson, then spoke of his experience of life-saving transplantation, finishing with reading a poem called “Morning Birds”, written by a kidney transplant recipient in Dublin, in 2001, called Andy Dunne.  This poem starts:

          It’s hard to put my thoughts to words
          For words could not portray
          The admiration and gratitude I hold
          For You and Yours today….

Following the reading of this poem, all transplant recipients were invited to walk to the front of the Cathedral to light a candle in memory of their donor.  The Heart and Lung Recipient Co-ordinators and the Liver Recipient Co-ordinators gave the candles and guided recipients to the sand boxes to place their candle.  During this time the Heaven Bent Choir sang “Fa’Afetai” which is a Samoan song of Thanksgiving.

Once all recipients were seated again, the congregation said in unison:

          Loving God, we remember with gratitude those who
          have given life and hope to others.  We light these
          candles as a symbol of this renewal of life and health.

The congregation then stood and sang a hymn by David. J. Evans, which starts “Be still, for the presence of the Lord, the Holy One, is here.” 

Following the hymn, the Address was given by Dr. James Judson, an Intensive Care Specialist at Auckland City Hospital and a Medical Specialist with Organ Donation New Zealand. 

The reading as from John 12:20-25, which was followed by the Reflection by The Venerable Howard Leigh.  After the Reflection, the Heaven Bent Choir sang “I want to be ready” and then the congregation was led in a responsive prayer for donor, donor families, recipients and the people within medical and caring professions, which concluded with the congregation saying the Lord’s Prayer in unison. 

At this point the Donor Co-ordinators from Organ Donation New Zealand, led by Janice Langlands, invited members of families of those who had donated organs and tissues to come to the front of the cathedral to receive their gift of a camellia, called “Donation”.  In this the Co-ordinators were assisted by two child recipients.  During this time, the Heaven Bent Choir sang “Come Sunday”. 

The congregation was then invited to stand and sing “Guide me, O thou great Redeemer” by W. Williams, which was followed by the closing prayer.  As the service finished, the Heaven Bent Choir sang the “23rd Psalm”.  After the service concluded, Organ Donation New Zealand invited recipients and their families and donor families to share lunch with them in the Cathedral’s visitor centre.

New Zealand's first Thanksgiving Service for Organ Donor Families and Transplant Recipients was a service of many emotions, some extremely painful with tears flowing and for others moments of joyfulness. Both the sadness and the joy were mixed with pain and loss but thankfulness for the sharing of lives and the continuation of life. It was an opportunity for the remembrance of loved ones, and knowing that parts of their bodies still lived on enriching the lives of others.

Can you imagine sitting in the Holy Trinity Cathedral, Parnell, Auckland, on the 23rd May, 1998 listening to and watching an amazing choir called Heaven Bent - a rather large colourful choir moving and swaying with the pulses and rhythms of their ‘life-filled’ music?

• Every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart I do pray

• Glory Hallelujah

Seven prayers were offered by transplant recipients, health professionals, and a family member who’s husband’s organs had been donated. Before each prayer a candle was lit, and after there was a response "God of life, hear our prayer."

These prayers preceded a scripture reading, a talk from Professor Munn from the Liver Transplant Unit, an address by the Very Revd. Michael O’Connor, and my poem. Professor Munn painted us a ‘word picture’ of the first liver transplant operation in New Zealand. There was the gravity of the illness experienced by a young woman of 26, a law student, nearly at death’s door and how in her final hours and family around her bed, the telephone rings - a transplant was available for her! There was the hope and relief of her family, the nervousness in the waiting time during the eight hours of surgery and the overflowing joy and exhilaration of the medical team. Professor Munn spoke of his feelings of fulfilment, exhaustion and finally the deep, low emotions he felt as he read next morning the small-print notice on the back page of the Herald – a picture about the life of the one whose organ he had transplanted into the recipient.

The Dean spoke eloquently about the ‘colours’ of life and how he had wondered why the camellia flower was used as a symbol on this occasion. The camellia, which flowers in the wintertime – the ‘winter’ of one’s life, has the blooms that symbolise hope and new life for another. Each donor family was presented with a pink camellia called ‘Donation’ packed in pink tissue paper within a deep green box. Hanging from every shrub was a card with a watermark of a camellia and my poem printed on it! For me it seemed an awesome sight. As I wrote this poem I was thinking of my donor and his family and I’m thankful to God for being able to express my gratefulness in this way.

I have now attended three Thanksgiving Services. Each one has been very moving with different stories and experiences shared. I thoroughly recommend to donor families and recipients to attend if possible to give thanks for their loved ones lives, and for the lives that have been extended by wonderful gifts of love.

Jean M Rombach - kidney recipient
Palmerston North

I went to worship at Holy Trinity Cathedral, and for once I am lost for words to describe one of the most moving experiences of my whole life to date.

It was called: "A Service of Thanksgiving in recognition of those who have given the gift of life to others." But that describes not the half of it, for the Service was arranged by Janice Langlands and Ralph Maddison, National Transplant Donor Co-ordinators.

There were a great number of people there. Almost everyone present had been very close to the questions of life and death– either for oneself, or a loved one.

Some came following the very difficult decision to donate the organs of a loved one, so that others might receive life itself, or at least an enhancement of life through such a gift as a cornea so that sight might be recovered.

Others came very humbly, giving thanks to the families of the unknown donors whose death had brought them life and hope- thanks to the skills and dedication of the whole transplant team which had made it all possible.

Those who had received a transplant came forward to light a candle as a symbol of renewed life and health.

Members of families of those who had donated organs came forward to receive the gift of the Camellia "Donation" at the hands of the co-ordinators and some of the young recipients.

Some people came forward twice.

One such couple were John and Susan.

Only 18 months before John would himself need the altruism of a donor family for the replacement of his liver, Susan had taken the telephone call from the hospital asking if she would agree to donate the corneas and heart of their only son who had just been killed in a motor-bike accident.

No one who has not been faced with such things can ever know exactly what it means to those involved.

Little wonder the Cathedral was hushed. There were tears, for memories were being revisited by very many people. Understandably, one’s sense of joy w
as muted.

For some, this writer included, earlier fears and pain came to the fore. Yet afterwards, there was a feeling of release, and a renewed sense of the value of the gift of life.

John puts it this way: "It’s hard to put into words just how grateful and fortunate I feel. A few short months ago I believed I probably wouldn't see my next birthday, the America’s cup, or the new millennium.

"It was horrifying and shocking. To look at family pets with the belief they would probably outlive me was painful.

"Trying to come to terms with leaving my wife after 32 years was appalling so soon after the shattering tragedy of losing our only child.

"But now, thanks to you all, every day is an unexpected miracle!"

Stephen Brooker
2000

Reprinted with permission from "The Anglican", Volume 3 Number 2 at page 7.  July 2, 2000.

As a transplant surgeon, it is my patients that make my life interesting. I want to tell you a story about such patients - a true story.

The first time I met this particular patient he was not a happy camper. He was in pain, some of which we had caused, he was recovering from a bout of infection, he was jaundiced and to add insult to injury he was in a six-bedded unit. I remember going to his bed and making a futile attempt to give us a little privacy by pulling around us the far from sound-proof curtains. Although he was distracted by pain, I could readily discern that it was not the pain that concerned him most. 

He had learned that the reason for his pain, infection and jaundice was a liver tumour - a cancer that was blocking the bile ducts in a portion of the liver. Furthermore, he had learned that this tumour could not be removed by surgical means.

This patient was a quiet, mild-mannered man. He was softly spoken, well informed and outwardly calm. I couldn't help thinking that on the inside he would be unlikely to feel so at ease. We talked for a long time about liver transplantation as a means of dealing with this tumour. We talked about the evaluation process, the waiting time, the surgery and its complications, the anti-rejection drugs and their side effects and we talked about the need for life-long surveillance. No matter how many potential problems I raised, each time I saw the same look in his eyes. In transplantation lay hope. The alternative was unpalatable, unmentionable. When I left his bedside I knew that he was a great transplant candidate. We put him through the evaluation process and then he was listed and had to wait for an organ to become available.

The wait must seem interminable especially to patients who have tumours. Subsequently this patient described looking at a tube of toothpaste and wondering if this was the very last tube of toothpaste that he would ever need. Mundane objects filled with horrific metaphysical implications. After three months of waiting he was finally transplanted. Some wonderful donor family somewhere agreed to allow their loved one's organs to be used to give a number of patients a second chance. My patient was one of those fortunate enough to receive such a gift. After first removing his entire liver, along with the tumour, we were able to sew in the new liver and watch it pink up immediately. It was a great liver. It quickly began to function and to our delight it began to make bile while we were still working on him. As predicted he was a model patient, recovering quickly with few complications. I recently saw him at nine months post-transplant and he continues to do very well. Like many patients given a second chance, he is making use of every opportunity. On the anniversary of his transplant he plans to be on vacation with his wife in a part of New Zealand he has always wanted to visit but never before taken the opportunity. He is tremendously grateful to that donor family. For the purposes of this story, I will call my patient John.

Now I need to tell you another story, a parallel one. To begin it properly I need to take you back more than 30 years to the 60's when the Beatles were singing about yellow submarines and strawberry fields and when Tim Shadbolt was not yet part of the establishment. In the late 60's two young people from rather different backgrounds went off to Teachers Training College. They were both fresh out of high school with high hopes and neither of them were blind to the attractions and opportunities that were on offer in the co-educational environment of that institution. These two young people, he a little shy, she more confident and outgoing, met, "went out" as they say and unequivocally fell in love. By the time they both graduated they planned to marry and when they went up into the remote north for their country service it was as husband and wife.

That was a busy but halcyon time in their lives. They were young, healthy, very much in love and their lives stretched ahead of them in seemingly endless fashion. Not surprisingly, she fell pregnant and both of them looked forward eagerly to this child conceived as it was at such a happy time. They saved every penny they could and came back to their hometown with enough for the deposit on a section. Eventually, in fulfillment of the Kiwi dream, they designed and had built a home to suit their needs. They continue to live in that home 26 years later. Their little son was born without mishap. For the sake of this story I'll call him Brad. Brad cried a lot as a baby, which his doting mother traced to a milk allergy. He grew up very quickly it seemed to his parents, attending in rapid succession the local primary school, intermediate and high school. He enjoyed motorsports and, incongruously, cooking. I understand that he was also quite artistic.

Brad trained as a patisserie chef and although he worked long hours at this job he enjoyed tinkering with his motorbike when he was finally home. By this time he was in his early twenties.  He was tall, dark, good-looking and often dressed in black. At work he met a lovely young woman who quickly indicated that his interest was reciprocated. She came, however, from a very different background. Her parents were not too keen on this dark, handsome, motorcycle-riding patisserie chef who had stolen away their daughter's heart. This did not stop Brad from seeing her, nor did it stop their relationship from escalating. Shortly thereafter Brad found himself to be an expectant father. Although he was frustrated by the disapproval of his potential in-laws, he was pleased about the prospect of being a father. He decided he ought to get a better paying job and to make some plans for his baby. Brad already knew he liked children. He had volunteered at the local school and had helped out at scout camps. He was the kind that kids liked to follow around the schoolyard. He had enjoyed that.

Ten weeks before the baby was due, Brad was home working on his beloved motorbike. There was an annoying squeak coming from somewhere under the seat. He and his Dad had discussed how to fix it. He worked on it for a while and then went out for a test ride. It was a lovely afternoon in late February. The road was windy but dry. He had ridden that way many times before. He was behind a woman driving a car when he pulled out at a leisurely pace on a long sweeping curve to get by her. For reasons that will never be fully understood Brad never made it around that bend. He and his bike left the road and he was found down a bank lying on his back with his arms outstretched as if he was resting. He had been killed instantly. At four o'clock he was alive. Now, at ten past five, he was dead. His mother had heard the ambulance and like all mothers everywhere had wondered. That night she had to go down and identify him. It was difficult to believe. For some reason she noticed his teeth now beautiful and straight. She remembered all the orthodontic work that had been done on them. And for that and a thousand other reasons, she remembered thinking "What a waste!"

Early the next morning, Brad's mother answered the phone. On it there was a polite woman asking if she would agree to donate Brad's tissues (his corneas and heart valves) for transplant purposes. Brad's mother had thought about this before and wanted to say yes. She calmly continued the conversation and said that yes, she thought that was a good idea and they could go ahead and take those items. When she finally hung up she felt completely shattered. She had to sit down. She turned to her husband for support, this man who had loved her for 32 years, who knew only too well what it was for her to allow them to take the eyes and heart from their only son. The man she looked at, this husband, lover and father that she knew was John, who unbeknownst to him, would himself need the altruism of another donor family within 18 months.

I tell you this story so that whether you are a transplant recipient, or a friend of that recipient, or a donor family member, you will be better able to appreciate the other side of the equation. Hope emerging from hopelessness, joy coming from pain, someone's dreadful and tragic loss being the means of someone else's gain. Such a remarkable juxtaposition of emotions and yet somehow a microcosm of all human existence. It is unusual for a transplant recipient to be a member of a donor family. John was one of those few.

His words rather than mine best encapsulate his experiences as a transplant recipient.

 "It's hard to put into words just how grateful and fortunate I feel. A few short months ago I believed that I probably wouldn't see my next birthday, the America's cup, or the new millennium. It was horrifying and shocking. To look at family pets with the belief that they would probably outlive me was painful. Trying to come to terms with leaving my wife of 32 years was appalling, so soon after the shattering tragedy of losing our only child. Almost as cruel was believing that our beloved grandchild, born months after his father died would be too young to even remember me. But now, thanks to you all, every day is an unexpected miracle. I have a lot of living to do. I owe you all everything."