Epidemic

Uh-oh,

there’s another reported case of the Zika Virus in Florida after numerous other reports already. . .

Uh-oh,

there’s a young lady,

recently married with brain cancer who is moving from her home in California to Oregon so she can participate LEGALLY in Physician Assisted Suicide.

Uh-oh,

WE DON’T have a problem, do WE?

Seriously,

WE DON’T HAVE THE ZIKA VIRUS, do WE?

T H E Y D O !

T H E Y

Always live somewhere else,

or speak different languages,

or have different colored skin. . .

T H E Y

Need to live somewhere else;

travel somewhere else;

get sick somewhere else. . .

T H E Y

Remind us that we’ve already dealt

and been scared to death

of Tuberculosis,

Aids,

Polio,

and many other forms of illness and disease. . .

Here’s the Deal:

The new WE

W E

are

T H E Y

T H E Y

are

W E.

T H E Y. . .

T H E M. . .

Y O U

M E

Z I K A

is something

W E

all have;

Everyday,

1479 people die from cancer;

everyday there are 3483 new people diagnosed with it. . .

Everyday,

in the United States 895 people die from cancer;

and 2938 are diagnosed with it. . .

Cancer is something

W E

all have;

It’s time for

US,

WE,

THEM, ‘

THEY

to become the true

I of the Storm. . .

Compassion

S C R E A M S

there is no longer a

T H E Y

or a

T H E M

or an

or a

YOU. . .

only a WE,

an US. . .

The RESET,

the RESTORE BUTTON

gets tapped not only when

WE get IT. . .

But when we

S H A R E I T—–

N O W. . .

why couldn’t we get bit by a bug

that would infect us with

C O M P A S S I O N

and a horribly, dreaded

E M P A T H Y

that becomes an incurable

e p i d e m i c . . . ?

Have you been Ebola-ized yet?

The World once again seems to be on guard for another epidemic awaiting to pounce.

A NYC Dr. has just been diagnosed with Ebola within the past hour.

We’re afraid. . .once again. . .

but it certainly IS NOT the first time.

I don’t remember his name. . .

but I’ll never forget his SELFLESS LOVE.

It was about 18 years ago and he had been with his partner for nearly 12 years.

He had AIDS.

He was dying.

His father was a Southern Baptist minister who actually believed that AIDS was God’s righteous punishment for homosexuality. He had said that his son was already dead to him and that he had no place in his house or his life unless he “REPENTED.”

What’s worse than a young man in his mid-thirty’s dying of AIDS?

A man in his mid-thirty’s who’s dying of AIDS and has to choose between staying with his partner UNTIL DEATH DO THEM PART or reuniting with his judgmental, YOU’RE-GOING-TO-GO-STRAIGHT-TO-HELL-UNLESS-YOU-ATONE-IMMEDIATELY-FOR-YOUR-DISCRECTION family.

True love never really has to choose. . .

It only needs to recognized that it has chosen YOU.

. . .Often it is not.

After much painful discussions and ultimately even more daring decisions, the AIDS-Infected Prodigal son returned to the home of his parents to be reunited with them.

He went home as his last gift FOR THEM.

He and his partner agreed, that there love didn’t need explained or proven, that in fact, it had COMPLETED THEM.

What they further agreed upon was that his parents needed to have their son return so that they could actually grieve his death in a much more acceptable way.

So home he went. . .

R E P E N T A N T

He died in the care of his parents.

LOVE as a VERB.

. . .A very SELF-LESS ONE.

We’ve had many epidemics hit the world–even in our current lifetimes.

What about Love?

The DIS-EASE OF LOVE?

The EPIDEMIC OF LOVE?

The highly contagious. . .

The Severely communicable. . .

The Intensively contractable. . .

The Unimaginable transmittable. . .

Dis-Ease. . .pandemic outbreak of pure, undefiable, unadulterated

L O V E ?

It’s never death that parts us. . .

It’s life without love–unconditional–that keeps us separated; segregated,

I N C O M P L E T E D.

Here’s to a HOPEFUL Love Epidemic. . .

Here’s that we each may be infested with the Dis-Ease of Love. . .

That we may intentionally, purposely INFECT others. . .

That we may make it airborne. . .

That we may leave no lung without it’s air. . .

That we may become terminal. . .

Now. . .

Then. . .

For an ever. . . .

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