GEOFFREY MICHEL / L’Observateur / April 7, 1999

This past week I read something on the internet that I would like to share. It is titled “The Day Your Son Died, a New Look at the Easter Story.” Although Easter was a few days ago, I feel the message is not limited to just one day a year. The author rema”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 fel”They’re sending some doctors over there to investigate it. Your 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 partic”By Monday morning when you get up, it’s the lead story. Turns out it’s not justIndia; it’s Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran and before you know it, you’re hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it “the mystery flu.””The mystery flu spreads across Europe, and panic strikes as it sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote.”Suddenly the news breaks. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. Avaccine can be made. It’s going to take the blood of somebody who hasn’t beeninfected. Everyone is tested.”Sure enough, when you and your family get down to the hospital, there is a long line. Your wife and your kids are all tested. Suddenly a young man comes runningout 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 OK, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn’t have the disease. We think he has the right type. Your son could save the world.’ An o”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?’ The old doctor’s smile fades as he says, ‘We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren’t “‘But can’t you give him a transfusion?’ “‘If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?’ In numb silenceyou do. Then they say, ‘Would you like to have a moment with him before webegin?’ “Can you walk back to that room where he’s Iying 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 got to get started. People all over the world are dying.’ Can you leave? “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 God is saying? ‘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 tocomprehend the great love you have for us.”If you have any questions or comments, please contact straightkids@juno.com orP.O. Box 1492, LaPlace, La. 70069.Back to Top

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