Over the years, people have asked me if I dance. I often reply, “No, I’m a Baptist.”
“What does that have to do with your dancing ability?” they’ll ask.
My answer comes from the lyrics—“Guilty feet have got no rhythm”—from George Michael’s 1984 hit song “Careless Whisper.”
Just before the quarantine started, my wife Becky and I sat with a lawyer redoing our estate plan.
“I love that word ‘estate,’” I told the lawyer. “It makes me feel like I own the Ponderosa.”
“Well, you don’t,” Becky said, using her no-nonsense teacher tone.
In 2011, I was at the annual National Guard Chaplain Conference in Washington, D.C., when I was sidetracked into a personal conference with a colleague.
The morning session began with all the usual inspirational speeches from our higher-ups. Just before our lunch break, Chaplain Lawrence Witherspoon of Riverside, Calif., stood to make an announcement.
Fred Rogers, aka Mr. Rogers, often quoted his mother who offered advice during his childhood about scary events on the news.
“Look for the helpers,” she said. “You will always find people who are helping.”
Today, the news couldn’t be scarier because those helpers are in trouble.
These days, I’m opening scores of emails from companies announcing their new COVID-19 policies. Grocery stores tell me they are disinfecting carts. Car rental companies proclaim their vehicles are safe to rent and schools promise to operate online.
They are all good polices, but the pandemic plan I prefer to follow is “Let’s Thrive, Not Just Survive.”
