The 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,
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 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 and you don't know it. Then you have four days of
unbelievable symptoms. And then you die. Britain closes its borders, but
it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton, and its 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"
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 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. And 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 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 you 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 wants to say?
"MY SON DIED. 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.