THROUGH HIS EYES
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
CDC
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 young 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 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
it's
just sweeping in from the borders.
And then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken!
A
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 doctors
coming out and pricking
fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and 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 small 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 He 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. Amen."