Through Your Eyes
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  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 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, it's the lead story. 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.  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 it. 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 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 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 all your child's blood. All of it."
"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 are you forgetting me?"
Then when they have the funeral ceremony to honor your son,
some folks sleep through it; and some folks say it's not important,
while many don't even come because they go to the lake.
Some people come and pretend to care.
Wouldn't 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 THROUGH YOUR EYES breaks our hearts.
 May we now begin to comprehend the great love you have for us.
And repent from our sins, that the blood of Your Son, JESUS CHRIST will wash us,
and heal us from all sin.
 Amen!
-                                                                                   Author Unknown
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