The day is over and you are driving home. You tune in your radio and
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. Apparently it's not influenza, but three villagers are
dead, and everyone's confused, yet fearfully interested, in how this
has happened. They're sending some doctors over there to investigate it.
You don't think much more about it. In fact, you've forgotten about
it. But on Sunday, coming home from church, as you're listening to
the radio, you hear an updated report on the situation that once
seemed unfortunate but quite insignificant. You hear the reporter
say that it's no longer three villagers,it's 30,000 villagers in the
back hills of this particular area of India.
You're told that more details will be given 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
one day later, 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 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.
It's now Monday night and 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. And as best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for
a week without even noticing it. After the week is over you then have four days
of unbelievable symptoms. Then you die.
Britain decides to close it's borders, but it's too late. South
Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton all report cases of the mystery
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 thing."
Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable
fear. People are buying masks for their face in hopes of preventing
this deathly drama from unfolding in their lives. Panic preludes
every discussion as people talk about the possibility of this
unidentified death sentence penetrating our country. Some preachers
go so far as to say, "It's the scourge of God."
It's now Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when
somebody runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio,
turn on a radio." 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, but nothing is
working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though
it's just sweeping in from every border. Then, all of a sudden the
news comes out.
The code has been broken. A cure can be provided. 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 that Friday
night, there is a long line. They've got nurses and doctors coming
out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it to
make sure it doesn't get lost in the infected blood. 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 family and
neighbors wondering what in the world is going on.
You always thought that some day the world may come to end. But at
this moment it seems to as though this is it.
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! Your son
tugs on your jacket and says, "Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have
grabbed your boy. In fear you shout, "Wait a minute, hold it! What's going on?" And
they tell you, "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 the 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 speak to you in private
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-h-h-how many pints?" you ask. And that is when the old doctor's
smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would bea little child. We weren't
prepared. We need it all!" "But but...", you say. "You don't understand. We are
talking about the world here. Please sign. We - we need it all - 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?"
Could you walk back? Could you walk back to that room where your son
sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Could you
take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you, and we would
never ever let anything happen to you that didn't have to be. Do you
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." Could you
leave? Could you walk out while your son is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad?
Why - why have you turned away from me? Why are you turning your back on me?"
And think about next week when they have a ceremony to honor your son. Think
about those people who sleep through the ceremony, and the people who don't
even come because it's the weekend and they always go to the lake on the
And then there's the people who come with a pretentious smile and just pretend
to care. How would you feel? Wouldn't you want to jumpup and say, "MY SON
DIED! DON'T YOU CARE? YOU HAVE LIFE BECAUSE OF HIM AND THIS IS HOW
A deadly plague has infected every person on this earth. Only it's not a plague
that eats away at our flesh. It eats away our spirit and affects our soul. The plague
is sin. In His great love for us, while humankind was still full of sinners, God sent
His Son to die for us. When we place our trust in Him and have faith in what He has
done on our behalf, it's like recieving new blood that the litle boy provided. You not
only recieve new blood, but you recieve a new life. Now the question to you is, "How
do you respond to what God has done for you?"
Could this be what God is saying? Could this be what God is feeling?
"MY SON DIED. DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE?"
"Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts. Maybe now we
begin to comprehend the great love you have for us. Amen "
-- Author Unknown --
Designed using Arachnophilia Version 4.0 (Thanks Paul Lutus!!)
Date last changed: Saturday, June 03, 2000
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