Clean Blood
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 getup,
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 "