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arrived, seventy-five of David and Sherry’s family, friends, and church family were at the hospital to show their love and support. They were piled into the waiting room and wandering the halls, available for needed hugs and words of encouragement. The news of Tatum’s illness had spread like wildfire to people they didn’t even know throughout the United States and into other countries.
    Dan had given Sherry a “prayer pager”—a beeper for people to send the number 143 (common code for “I love you,” as the amount of letters in the phrase is one, four, and three, Dan explained)—to receive reminders of the love and support from family and friends. Emails requesting prayer and “143” to be paged to David and Sherry were sent to Sherry’s missionary friends inSweden and Africa, and those emails reached across the globe, through other countries, and into Mexico. The prayer pager buzzed in Sherry’s pocket every minute or so with “143”—reminders of how much Tatum was loved.
    Sherry was encouraged that people everywhere were praying for her little girl. She felt as if she could see those prayers floating to Heaven, and after news of the liver, she was sure they had landed right in God’s lap and brought about a miracle.
    As David and Sherry broke away from the group to meet with Dr. Shore and Dr. Goran Klintmaulm, a world-renowned transplant surgeon from Baylor University Medical Center at Dallas who would perform the transplant surgery, David felt hesitant excitement rush through him. Tatum was going to live.
    It was a bittersweet feeling since he knew that a liver for his daughter meant someone had just died to give it.
    “The liver is sixty years old,” Dr. Klintmaulm explained, and panic that had momentarily subsided within Sherry resurfaced.
    Is the only option to save our daughter a liver that is sixty years old?
she thought.
    David vocalized her concern. “Is that okay?” he asked without hesitation. “How long do livers last?”
    “There is nothing to indicate that this liver won’t last a hundred years,” Dr. Shore said, slowly easing their minds.
    But he was wrong.
    Thirty minutes later, he and Dr. Klintmaulm walked side by side toward David and Sherry, their faces announcing bad news before their words could.
    “I found a tumor on the liver,” Dr. Klintmaulm said in a kind but matter-of-fact tone. “We can’t use it.”
    He paused momentarily, and then continued, explaining that it would be best to take her liver out before it poisoned her.
    “You’re going to take it out and not put anything back in?” David asked, feelings of desperation bubbling in his gut. “How long can a person live without a liver?”
    “Thirty-six hours,” Dr. Klintmaulm said. “We need another option.”
    David and Sherry knew what that option was. Among the family members tested earlier that day, Sherry’s brother-in-law Jim had proved to be a perfect match. “Take mine,” he ordered.
    Sherry, who, along with her sister, Gay, was also a perfect match but could not donate because she was too thin, looked at her brother-in-law of nearly ten years.
    “You don’t have to do this, Jim,” she said sadly, knowing the risk he’d be taking to give a portion of his liver to Tatum. It would be a major surgery, and though the portion remaining inside of him would rejuvenate itself within weeks and the healthy, left lobe portion he would give to his niece would also rejuvenate and save her life, Sherry wanted him to know he had a choice. “You can change your mind.”
    His unfaltering stance gave Sherry combined hope and fear. Doctors sent Jim to Baylor University Medical Center-Roberts Hospital for further testing to make sure his body was indeed ready for such a major surgery.
    “We’d like to do an exploratory procedure in the meantime to see if there’s any chance of Tatum’s liver revitalizing itself,” Dr. Klintmaulm said. “As the body’s most resilient organ, rejuvenation is not at all