Some, I'm sure, did it for vainglory, but most would not brag about their donations, and kept their kindness and sacrifice for those in need, below the radar screen.
The very first time I donated blood was in 1966 while in the Air Force. The call went out base-wide for blood donors to help replace the blood and plasma that was used for the child of one of the Airmen stationed at our "tiny" Strategic Air Command base in the northeast corner of the state of Arkansas...
After working the overnight shift, providing perimeter security (protecting the alert B-52 bombers and KC-135 refueling tankers), nearly the entire flight (equivalent to an Army company) boarded an Air Force bus, and headed down to Memphis, Tennessee. Our final destination was the St. Jude Children's Research hospital, founded by the actor, Danny Thomas, where the Airman's son was being treated, for what I believe, was some type of rare cancer.
A few of my fellow G.I.s dozed-off during the 70-mile trip to Memphis... In fact, we didn't have enough time to change out of our duty uniforms, which included our fatigues, combat boots, and B-15 insulated jackets, minus only our Air Police badges...
The long trip culminated when we arrived at St. Jude's, tired and hungry, but glad to be able to help out our brother's son... To our happy surprise, we were treated to a great dinner of southern fried chicken and all the fixings...
After the blood donation, we were given a tour of the incredible facility, treating mostly very young children with various diseases, especially rare forms of cancer.
Even though this event took place 54 years ago, I, and most of my brother G.I.s, were quite impressed with the space-age-type-machines and associated equipment to treat the little patients. And what was most impressive, as we were taken through the halls and treatments areas, was seeing up close and personal, these little troopers fighting for their very lives. Some of these youngsters were barely ten years old, and many younger...
I wonder how many of these children knew what was really going on, or how and why they should be handling their individual dilemmas. Did they think of their suffering as a Cross that had to be carried to the end of their successful treatment of their disease, or carried to the end of their young lives? I don't know what they were thinking, but their parents knew exactly what was going on, and shouldered the burden of carrying Crosses for themselves -- and their child...
Such parents, and others who bear their Crosses, are the real heroes in this life...
Do we have the courage and guts to bear our Crosses and follow Our Lord on that narrow road that leads to life-eternal?
Pray for strength and honor -- and His grace!
Viva Cristo Rey! Fr. Miguel Pro, pray for us...
Gene DeLalla
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for your comment.