"Don't You Know How Much I Care?"
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, quick, turn on a radio!"
And while the church quiety listens,
To a little transistor radio,
 With a microphone stuck up to it,
The announcement is made:
"Two women lay 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 desperately 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, 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 there have your blood type taken.
That's all we ask of you.
When you hear the sirens go off,
In your neighborhoods,
Please, please make your way,
Quickly, quietly and safely,
To the nearest hospital.
Sure enough;
When you and your family get there,
Late on that Friday night,
There is a long line.
And they've got nurses and doctors,
Coming out pricking fingers,
And taking blood and putting labels on it.
Your wife and your kids are out there,
And they proceed to take your blood type.
And then 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 friends and neighbors,
 Wondering what in the world is going on,
Could this be 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 just 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, the very 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 now 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.







 Then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says,
"May we see you for moment?
We didn't realize that,
Well; that the donor would be a minor.
And we need, well we need you,
To sign a consent form."
You begin to sign and then you notice,
That the number of pints of blood,
To be taken is empty.
"How-how many pints," you ask?
And that is when the old doctor's smile,
Slowly fades, as he says,
"We had no idea;
No idea, it would be a little child.
We weren't prepared, I'm sorry.
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, please 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 your son 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, son?"
And then 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? Daddy? Why?"
"Why have you forsaken me?"
And then the 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 FOR YOU!
DON'T YOU CARE?"


Is that what God wants to say?


"MY SON DIED FOR YOU!
DON'T YOU KNOW
HOW MUCH I CARE?"

Author Unknown

Father, seeing it from Your eyes,
Breaks our hearts.
Maybe, just maybe now hopefully,
We can begin to try and comprehend,
The "Greatest Of Love,"
That You have for us.
What love You showed,
When You gave up Your glory in Heaven,
And laid down Your life for me.
Thank You Lord; for Your goodness and enduring love.
How vast, how "GREAT" the love,
To all mankind.
Nailed to that shameful tree,
That You, there my beloved Saviour,
Gave freely, bled and died.
And laid down Your life,
For the likes of lost sinners,
Like you and me.
That my friends is,
"THE GREATEST LOVE"
God Is Love.



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~ GOD BLESS YOU ~


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