August 13, 2015.  This was the day that I stumbled across a Facebook post written by the wife of a fellow high school classmate.  Her husband had been diagnosed as a teenager with Juvenile Hyperuricemia Nephropathy.  The recipient and I knew each other, but we were never friends.  I knew he had some form of kidney trouble, but I had never thought much about it.  Fast forward to 2015, and I was reading a heart breaking post about my former classmate’s need for a kidney.  He is a police officer, his wife is a teacher, and they have a two and a half year old daughter.  I am a teacher, married, and have a three year old son.  I realized how similar our families were, and couldn’t stop thinking about this post. I am terrified of needles, and steer clear of going to the doctor as much as possible, so I replied to the post and told them I would share the information and pray for them.  A few days later, I was sitting at an event for our church.  They asked for prayer requests, which is nothing out of the ordinary.  A friend of mine, a police officer in the area, stood and requested prayer for a fellow police officer who was in desperate need of a kidney.  I almost fell out of my chair.  I knew exactly who he was talking about, and I knew that I was to do something about it. After speaking to my parents and my husband, I decided to call the number for the phone interview.  I knew that the chances were slim that I would be the chosen donor, but I felt God leading me to take the first step and call.