The
day is over, you are driving home. You tune in
your radio. You hear a little blurb about a
little village in India where some villagers have died
suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen
before. It's not influenza, but three or four
people are dead, and it's kind of interesting, and
they're sending some doctors over there to investigate
it.
You
don't think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home
from church, you hear another radio spot. Only
they say it's not three villagers, it's 30,000
villagers in the back hills of this particular area of
India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a
little blurb: people are heading there from the
disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain
has never been seen before.
By
Monday morning when you get up, it's the lead story.
For it's not just India; it's Pakistan, Afghanistan,
Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this
story everywhere and they have coined it in now as
"the mystery flu". The President has
made some comment that he and everyone are praying and
hoping that all will go well over there. But
everyone is wondering, how are we going to contain it?
That's
when the President of France makes an announcement
that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders.
No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the
countries where this thing has been seen. And
that's why that night you are watching a little bit of
CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your
chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French
news program into English: There's a man lying in a
hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has
come to Europe.
Panic
strikes.
As
best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for a
week before you know it. Then you have four days
of unbelievable symptoms. And then you die.
Britain
closes it's borders, but it's too late. South
Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton, and it's Tuesday
morning when the President of the United States makes
the following announcement: "Due to a
national security risk, all flights to and from Europe
and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones
are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back
until we find a cure for this things."
Within
four days our nation has been plunged into an
unbelievable fear. People are selling little
masks for your face. People are talking about
"What if it comes to this country," and
preachers on Tuesday are saying, "It's the
scourge of God." It's Wednesday night and
your are at the church prayer meeting when somebody
runs in from the parking lot and says,
"Turn on a radio, turn on a radio."
And while the church listens to a little transistor
radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the
announcement is made: "Two women are lying in a
Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu."
Within
hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the
country. People are working around the clock
trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working.
California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts.
It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders.
And
then, all of a sudden the news come out. The
code has been broken. A cure can be found.
A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the
blood of somebody who hasn't been infected, and so,
sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all
those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is
asked to do one simple thing: Go to your downtown
hospital and have your blood type taken. That's
all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go
off in your neighborhood, please make your way
quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospitals.
Sure
enough, when you and your family get down there late
on that Friday night, there is a long line, and
they've go nurses and doctors coming out and pricking
fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it.
Your wife and your kids are out there, and they take
your blood type and they say, "Wait here in the
parking lot and if we call your name, you can be
dismissed and go home."
You
stand around, scared, with your neighbors, wondering
what in the world is going on and if this is the end
of the world.
Suddenly
a young man comes running out of the hospital
screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a
clipboard. What? He yells it again!
And your son tugs on your jacket and says,
"Daddy, that's me." Before you know
it, they have grabbed your boy. Wait a minute.
Hold on! And they say, "It's okay, his
blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want
to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We
think he has got the right type." Five
tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses,
crying and hugging one another-some are even laughing.
It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a
week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says
"Thank you, sir. Your son's blood type is
perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make
the vaccine."
As
the word begins to spread all across that parking lot
full of folks, people are screaming and praying and
laughing and crying. But then the gray-haired
doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says,
"May we see you for a moment? We didn't
realize that the donor would be a minor and we
need...we need you to sign a consent form."
You
begin to sign and then you see that the number of
pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-how
many pints?" And that is when the old
doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea
it would be a little child. We weren't prepared.
We need it all!"
"But-but...You
don't understand." "We are talking
about the world here. Please sign. We-we
need it all!"
"But
can't you give him a transfusion?"
"If
we had clean blood we would. Can you sign?
Would you sign?" In numb silence, you do.
Then they say, "Would you like to have a moment
with him before we begin?"
Can
you walk back? Can you walk back to that room
where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy?
What's going on?" Can you take his hands
and say, "Son, I love you, and I would never let
anything happen to you that didn't just have to be.
Do you understand that?"
And
when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm
sorry, we've-we've got to get started. People
all over the world are dying." Can you
leave?
Can
you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Dad?
Why-why have you forsaken me?"
And
then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor
you son, and some folks sleep through it, and some
folks don't even come because they go to the lake, and
some folks come with a pretentious smile and just
pretend to care. Would you want to jump up and
say, "MY SON DIED FOR YOU! DON'T YOU
CARE?"
Is
that what GOD wants to say? "MY SON DIED
FOR YOU. DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE?"
"Father
, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts.
Maybe now we can begin to comprehend the great Love
you have for us."
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Author
Unknown
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