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Clean Blood Part 2

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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. Sure enough, all through the Midwest, everyone is asked to do one simple thing through all those channels of emergency broadcasting.

“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 Friday night, there is a long line at the hospital. Nurses and doctors are busy pricking fingers, taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and your kids are out there.
They take your blood type and say, "Wait here in the parking lot and you can be dismissed if we call your name."
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!
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!
They say, "Its 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."

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Five tense minutes later, the doctors and nurses come out 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, praying, laughing and crying.
However, the grey-haired doctor pulls you and you wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor will be a minor and we need... We need you to sign a consent form."
You are about to sign it until you noticed that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty.

"H-h-h-how many pints?"
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… 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?"
That’s when the 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 your son is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why-why have you forsaken me?"

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They have the ceremony to honor your son the following week and some folks sleep through it, some folks don't even come because they go to the lake, 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."

 

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