I Lv U My Son gld frm.jpg (52997 bytes)

It's a 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.
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
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 you
wife aside and says, "May we see you for moment?
We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor
and we need ... we need you to sign a consent
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 little child. We weren't
We need it all."
"But-but...You don't understand."
"We are talking about the world here. Please sign.
We need it all!"
"But can't you give him a transfusion?"
"If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you
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-got to get started. People
all over the world are dying.
Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is
saying, "Daddy? Mommy?  "Why, why are you walking
away from me?  Please don’t turn away from me, mommy!!... daddy!!"
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
Is that what GOD wants to say?
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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