a little reminder of the greatest gift we have all received.

Imagine this...

You're driving home from work next Monday after a long day. You tune into
your radio. You hear a 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 are sending some doctors over there
to investigate it. You don't think much about it, but coming home from
church on Sunday 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. It's not just India; it's
Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this
story everywhere, and they have now coined it as "the mystery flu." The
President has made some comment that he and his family 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 in English from a
French news program. 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, after contracting the disease, you
have it for a week before you even 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 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 this thing."

Within four days, our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear.
People are wondering, "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 yells, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio!" And while
everyone in 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, the disease envelopes 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 analyzed. 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
spouse and your kids are out there, and they take your blood and 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 on earth 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, "Daddy, 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 the right blood 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 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 wife aside and says, "May we see
you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor and
we...we need you to sign a consent form."

You begin to sign, and then you see that the box for 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 it all! .... But...but...I
don't understand. He's my only son! .... We are talking about the whole
world here. Please sign. We...we...need to hurry!"

"But can't you give him a transfusion? If we had clean blood we would.
Please, will you please sign?" In numb silence you do. Then they say,
"Would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?"

Could you walk back? Could you walk back to that room where he sits on a
table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Could 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," could
you leave? Could you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad?
Why...why have you abandoned 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 bother to come
because they have better things to do, and some folks come with a
pretentious smile and just pretend to care, would you want to jump up
and say, "EXCUSE ME! MY SON DIED FOR YOU! DON'T YOU EVEN CARE? DOES IT
MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?"

I wonder, is that what God wants to say? "MY SON DIED FOR YOU! DOES IT
MEAN NOTHING? DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE?"

This story is an excerpt from Matthew Kelly’s book, Rediscovering
Catholicism.

Although we may participate in Sunday Mass, we are all human beings and,
at times, a reminder is important in order to help us understand the
reason why. The reason why is not because of the wonderful or not so
wonderful priest. The reason is not even because of what we get out of
it or even what we put into it. The reason is what we have already been
given and will be given again and again when we receive Christ, the only
Son of God, in the Holy Eucharist and thank him for making our blood
pure through the giving of his blood on the cross.

Please invite your neighbors and those Catholic you know are not coming
to Church to return. Share this story with them.