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  • A Parent's Nightmare

    2 posts, 2 voices, 315 views, started Feb 6, 2009

    Posted on Friday, February 6, 2009 by Denise Richardson

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    • Diamond
      Offline
      Ambassador

      A Parent’s Nightmare

      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 people
      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 before you know it. Then you have four
      days of unbelievable symptoms. And 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.” 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 if 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 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 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!” “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.”

      “For God So loved the world, that He gave his only
      begotten Son, that whoever believes on Him should not
      perish but have everlasting life.”

      John 3:16

      You can now SPREAD THE GOSPEL...or delete it.



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