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 fellows are
dead, and it's kind of interesting. 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 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.
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 and you don't know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable
symptoms. 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 thing.
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 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.
Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida,
Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders.
Then, all of a sudden the news comes 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 got 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 that 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 it!" 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-h-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 - 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? Mommy? What's
going on?" Can 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 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? Mom? Dad? Why - why have you
forsaken me?"
And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your 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!
DON'T YOU CARE?"
Is that what God is saying? "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 "