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.”
It was an icy morning when I trudged the uphill sidewalk that skirts the University of Nevada campus. Behind me, I heard the huffing of a fellow student approaching on his bicycle and I moved to my right to yield for faster traffic.
However, I unwittingly detoured the bicyclist already approaching my right and sent him onto a muddy knoll. He managed to stay upright as he passed me. Then, with his tires spitting mud and his voice dripping sarcasm, he yelled, “Thank you SO much!”
I am a professionally employed chaplain. I’m schooled, ordained and certified. I’ve even been to war.
But I recently attended three funerals that reminded me how I can feel as helpless as anyone when trying to comfort a heartbroken friend.
I spend a lot of time in Sin City.
I know Las Vegas isn’t the place where you’d think a chaplain should visit, but business and family often send me there.
