Spirit Matters

Give A Little

If you’re fighting cancer or some other chronic disease, I owe you an apology for breaking the promise I made in 2009.
That was the year I served as chaplain in the Air Force field hospital in Balad, Iraq. Every two weeks there, I took the morning to donate blood platelets.

“What are platelets?” you ask.

Here’s what the Red Cross says: “Platelets are the tiny cells in your blood that form clots to stop bleeding.”

Untie Me

I’m hoping whoever reads this is looking for a job, specifically a hospice chaplain position.

I currently hold the title, but am eager for my employer to hire a replacement so I can retire—again.

The right candidate must be an approachable and caring person, unlike the man I interviewed some years ago. He arrived wearing a suit and became offended when I told him our hospice chaplains leave their clergy trappings at home.

“Why?” he asked.

Heard It All Before

People in my line of work get used to reruns. That’s not to say I’ve heard it all before, but stuff has a way of repeating itself when you’ve been a chaplain for a few decades.

Another thing I get accustomed to: clichés, especially those derived from biblical passages. Some I love. Others, not so much. Here’s a list of several unhealthy clichés:

Not So Good

I occasionally get emails from readers who reminisce about the good old days. They hope I’ll commiserate with them about how horrible the world has become.

One reader blamed the fall of America on the entertainment industry. “Back in my day, ‘The Andy Griffith Show’ led the way in promoting wholesome values,” he wrote. “Today’s shows promote violence and sexual promiscuity.”

How’d That Turn Out?

How’d That Turn Out? A look back on 2021 By Norris Burkes February 2022 As a new year gets underway, I find it worthwhile to look back at columns from the previous 12 months. Sometimes, I make predictions that turn out wrong. Other times, my stories...

Better To Give

In 1979, I served as a summer missionary for the Southern Baptist churches in Northern Nevada. I was one of hundreds of college students working nationwide, helping churches conduct Bible schools and summer youth camps.

Each missionary stayed within a region of churches, changing locations each week through a dozen churches. Most pastors hoped their missionary would be an ambitious college kid who could energize their youth group.

The pastors shared a pun among themselves to rate the energy of these workers: “Summer missionaries and some-r-not.”

I was more the “not” kind.

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