FREE ESSAY ON YOUR SON

YOUR SON

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 its borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton,
and its 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 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 husband 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,
Mommy, 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 your husband 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-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, Mommy?
What's going on? Can you take his hands and say, Baby, you know I love you, and I 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, Mommy? Daddy? 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 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? 
Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts. Maybe now we can begin to comprehend
the great Love you have for us.