How much does God love us? Why does he desire attention? ...Wouldn't you?

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 when you get up, it's the lead story. Turns out 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 "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. 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 but don't now it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. Then you die. Britain closes it's borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton; 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 truly sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this disease."

Within four days our nation has been plunged into unbelievable fear. Drug stores are selling little masks for your face. People are talking about what will happen if it comes to this country, and preachers 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!!" While the church listens to a little transistor radio, 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.

Suddenly the news breaks: 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. All through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: "Go to your own town hospital and have your blood tested. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please go to the hospitals."

Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on 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 say, "Wait here in the parking lot. If we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home." You stand around with your neighbors; frightened, wondering what in the world is going on, thinking this could 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 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 the right type. Your son could save the world." Five agonizing 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. 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 spreads across the parking lot, people start screaming and praying and laughing and crying.

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 prepared. We need it all, sir."

"But ... but ...

"You don't understand. We are talking about the world here. Please sign."

"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 to that room where he's lying 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? Can you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? 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! 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 to comprehend the great love you have for us."

Despite our efforts, we were unable to identify the author of this story.