COVID-19 Page 2

By Chaplain Major Lane F Campbell — Colorado Springs, Colorado … On March 12, a travel interruption letter, followed the next day by a letter limiting group size, was sent to those who have completed basic and advanced training (permanent party) and students and civilian personnel at the United States Air Force Academy (USAFA).  It was decided that the Freshmen Recognition would be suspended due to the new limitation guidance for COVID-19. This immediate stop to training resulted in a decision to send all lower classes home and retain only seniors or Firsties at the campus with the goal of graduating the class of 2020 and keeping them healthy. Within days, as with many Rocky Mountain Conference pastors, an immediate change occurred for providing religious services and spiritual care. New measures were implemented to provide all denominations with virtual religious services.

Life changed quickly for the remaining Firsties as well. Classes paused for several days to allow for the transition from classroom instruction to on-line instruction. The dining facility provided take-out services only and students were required to eat in their dorm rooms alone. Squadron social activities were cancelled, gym use was prohibited and travel outside the campus was forbidden. Only mission essential (ME) personnel (which includes chaplains), were allowed to be with the students. Life changed drastically as liberties were limited, all in the hopes of keeping cadets free from COVID-19 and getting them to their May 28 graduation date.

Tragically, on the morning of March 26, the former roommate of a Squadron 8 cadet discovered that he had taken his own life. Chapel teams assigned to the squadron gave chaplain care for the cadets, the faculty and staff and the first responders. The campus family was devastated. While I’m not the chaplain for Squadron 8, my wife and I sponsor a student from this Squadron, so I quickly realized that I needed to be there for her and her fellow squadron members whom I have come to know through our sponsorship.

Two mornings later, another cadet in Squadron 7 also tragically took his life. By Monday morning, the Chief Staff of the Air Force (CSAF), Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force and the Secretary of the Air Force (SECAF) were on campus visiting with students, faculty, staff and permanent party members. During the afternoon session, members from the Crisis Action Team, commanders, professors and students shared their perspective with the SECAF in which I participated as a chaplain and as a member of the Crisis Action Team. “Everything we are dealing with here, stress, change, challenge, pain, hurt and loss due to COVID-19 measures and the aftermath of these two suicides all have a spiritual foundation,” I said. “The challenge we have is we don’t have enough chaplains or mental health professionals entrenched with these cadets and permanent party here at USAFA during this unprecedented time.”

The professors in the room presented an earlier date for graduation and commanders requested more entrenched mental health and chaplain support in their squadrons. By the end of the week, five more Air Force chaplains from near-by bases (Wyoming, Colorado and Kansas) were brought in and the graduation date was moved to April 18.

Spiritual care to cadets was given high priority from CSAF and I checked on Squadron 8 members and my newly-assigned squadrons continuously. Unit visitations were implemented by the Crisis Action Team and care was given and made available around the clock. We greeted cadets during breakfast, lunch and dinner at the dining facility and walked through the dorms of the two squadrons assigned us, visiting with students in their spaces. Certain restrictions were also lifted.

Collectively this helped us meet our goal when on April 18, rather than a planned virtual speech, Vice President Pence personally arrived on campus and gave the commencement address for the USAF Academy class of 2020 with no positive COVID-19 cadets. Social distancing of eight feet was in place during the graduation ceremony and we successfully met our mission goals–graduate the class of 2020 and keep them healthy!

Squadron 8 members chose me as chaplain for their commissioning ceremony, held the night before graduation, which allowed me to give them parting words and encouragement as their chaplain. I shared three things they should take from their USAFA experience:

1. The Air Force is so very proud of them.
2. Their family and friends are proud of them.
3. God is proud of them for recognizing their God-given talents and gifts at such a young age and using them. I encouraged them to have excellence in all they do, to serve others before self and to maintain integrity as newly commissioned Air Force and Space Force officers.

This past graduation weekend and commissioning service for our 2020 cadets, was certainly a highlight as a chaplain in my Air Force career. God calls Seventh-day Adventist workers to be available for all types of ministries. What a calling we have to share the love of God and the soon coming of Jesus in the environment in which God has called us.

—Chaplain Major Lane F Campbell is Deputy Wing Chaplain at USAF Academy in Colorado Springs

Denver, Colorado … The Rocky Mountain Conference facilities, churches & schools are to remain closed through May 31. The extension of the current closure until May 31 was voted by the RMC leadership during a ZOOM meeting, on April 22.

“This extension follows regulations from the state governments, and we are informed that there will be gradual roll out from the restrictions that we have been living under,” said Eric Nelson, RMC VP for administration.

“The closures are impacting all of us throughout our territory, and we pray that circumstances will change for our churches and schools to directly interact and serve our communities,” he added.

Reports from around the conference show immense creativity in worship, teaching and how to support our mission while engaging in virtual communication with each other. The leadership team will continue to monitor the pandemic situation with hope that as soon as restrictions ease, we all will be allowed to hold gatherings and events planned for the months ahead.

“In an effort to maintain the safety of our members and communities, we are continuing to cooperate with these limitations within our conference through the end of May,” Nelson added.

–RMCNews

By Steve Nelson — Casper, Wyoming … A few months ago, we would not have thought our world would be facing such uncertainty. Our lives have been dramatically affected by the spread of the COVID-19 virus. As the pastoral team in Wyoming, in cooperation with the RMC leadership, prayed for and discussed this year’s camp meeting session, July 14-18, the overwhelming consensus was that the safety of our members needed to be our number one priority.

While other Conferences canceled their camp meeting events this year, “we are taking an innovative approach. During this time of social isolation, most of our members are staying connected to their families, work and communities through various forms of technology, and the use of these tools will enable us to still provide live programming to all church members in Wyoming and beyond,” explained Steve Nelson, Wyoming camp meeting coordinator.

The camp meeting events will be live streamed from multiple locations and available on facebook.com/WyomingCampMeeting/

Currently, the organizers are planning for the program to include morning worship with Wyoming area pastors followed by a special spiritual growth session with RMC leaders Ed Barnett and Eric Nelson. Former Wyoming pastor Dick Stenbakken will present evening and Sabbath sessions. Other sessions are still in the planning stages, with programs geared toward youth and a special Sabbath School discussion panel as well.

“Please stay tuned for other updates via the Wyoming Facebook page, (facebook.com/WyomingCampMeeting/), where all our updates and events will be streamed live. The organizers are looking forward to having you share in this year’s memorable session and ask that you pray with us for God’s richest blessing during our time together,” Nelson commented.

“Every year, we are enriched by several camp meetings throughout our Conference. Several other events are still being planned with no decisions to share at this time,“ commented Eric Nelson, RMC VP for administration. Social distancing and other restrictions are hampering planning as they are influenced by local administrative decisions in the respective state and county.

“Cowboy camp meeting organizers are hoping for the forest camp grounds to be open to the public when it’s time to set up for the event, July 8-11. We have not heard a final decision for NE Camp Meeting scheduled for June 5-6, and the Western Slope gathering, August 5-9, is still being decided by pastoral leaders. We will, of course, urge them to work within the restrictions and orders that are put in place in their county and state,” Eric Nelson added.

Steve Nelson is WY Camp Meeting Coordinator; photo by Rajmund Dabrowski.

By Michelle Velbis — Colorado Springs, Colorado … I am a middle school teacher and principal. As of March 30, I still dress like a professional. I still drive to my office. I still start school at 8:00 a.m. My students and I have devotions, a time of worship, and prayer. We talk about the days assignments and anything else that might be on their minds.

What’s different about teaching during a pandemic? I am the only one in my classroom. I “meet” with my students through Zoom. Staff meetings, administrative meetings, board meetings are all virtual now. I eat lunch by myself, sit a lot more than I would like in front of a computer, and spend more time creating lessons and trying to find creative ways to reach out to my students and parents.

Keeping students on task in class is hard enough. Give them all the free time they want with little or no supervision and accountability – I have some students thriving and others bombing. I send a lot more texts and emails to parents to try to keep them informed and connected to their student’s learning and achievements. Just like the students, some parents are succeeding, and others are not.

As a “coach” to my students, I really feel like I have one hand tied behind my back. Normally, I am in the ring with them, cheering them on. Online learning takes a lot of self-discipline and that is a trait that is lacking these days in my classroom under normal circumstances. Add a whole house of distractions, video games, movies, social media – who wouldn’t have a hard time focusing?

As many teachers have commented, having a mute button has been nice at times, but honestly, I miss the face-to-face connection with my students. I can’t read their body language or facial expressions, especially when they only share a black screen with their name on it. It feels institutional and impersonal.

Although, I do like the fact that I meet with every one of my students throughout the day individually. We go over math problems and anything else they might need help with. I get to see family pets, hear their siblings in the background, and once and awhile, mom or dad might pop up on the screen.

I also like the fact that my day is a little more flexible. During my lunch break, I can go for a walk if I want to. If I need to quickly “meet” with a parent between classes – no problem, I can hop on Zoom. Grading assignments from home without lugging books and strewn papers is nice. In addition, students have no excuses that they can’t find a paper – they turn their assignments in electronically.

COVID-19 has brought with it instantaneous flexibility and creative thinking. I have been stretched in ways I could never have imagined and so have my students. All in all, I think we have done pretty well. I am proud of myself, my staff, and students.

My students and I also agree that COVID-19 has given us more time with God and our families and this is something I count as a priceless blessing. Yes, we are in the middle of a storm, but we get to be in the boat with the Master Teacher.

–Michelle Velbis is principal of Springs Adventist Academy, Colorado Springs; photo supplied.

By Dany Hernandez — Littleton, Colorado … I was surrounded by a hundred strangers at a street-side restaurant in a small coastal town in southern France. If you took time to notice the conversations around you, you’d hear French, Spanish, German, Italian and of course the English of my family and friends. And although the only people I knew were those right across from me, I felt a strong connection to everyone around me. Why? Because laughter, joy, food and community, being key components of what makes us human, tap into areas of our lives that are communal to all of us and give us a sense of togetherness.

Well, and that’s why I hate COVID-19.

I’m not even going to pretend I know what New York or Italy are experiencing. I’m not going to make it sound as if I’m special in any way for getting up each day and heading to a hospital to provide support for families, patients and staff. Honestly, I feel honored and blessed to have work at a time when so many people are struggling. But, don’t be fooled this Covid-19 thing is emotionally and physically draining.

As chaplains, most of our ministry is simply being present. Many times, we sit quietly next to a family member or a dying patient with the only gift we have to offer, presence. And that is why these times are so difficult for patients, family, nurses, doctors, and chaplains. The one thing all of us can do well has been taken away from us. Many times, I’ve said that “togetherness has nothing to do with proximity” but it sure does help. COVID-19has taken from us the ability to hug someone who just lost their spouse, to shake the hand of a first-time dad, to high-five a nurse leaving the hospital after a 12-hour shift. Instead we’ve had to learn how to keep a 6-foot radius around other humans, to smile with our eyes since the rest of our bodies are covered with protective equipment, to look in the eyes of a daughter and say, “I’m sorry you can’t see your mom.”

There’s a reason God said, “It’s not good for man to be alone…” That’s not how we were created, that’s not how the divine exists. But instead we’ve been forced to watch a spouse of someone passing away in the ICU, unable to be in the room but watching from a distance. Hands on the glass door, tears down her face… talking softly and sometimes loudly, hoping the volume of her voice would penetrate the double pane glass and the unconscious state of her husband, assuring him that she was there – with him. This virus has forced us to take on much of the emotional stress of family members by sitting in their place next to the patient, by speaking the final words they’ll hear on behalf of the family, by holding a stranger’s hand until their last breath, because it was the only hand allowed in the room.

There’s a strange sort of stillness all around us these days. Our staffing needs in our hospitals have changes and what used to be a busy unit, now sits dimly lit and quiet like an abandoned western town at dusk. At the same time, our ICU, just a floor away, is the hub of frantic activity. But even in that frantic environment there’s an unsettled quietness. There’s a sense of anonymity when all of us are wearing headgear and masks. The identities and uniqueness of our caregivers erodes by blending into the common landscape of sky-blue scrubs of everyone around us. Now, we have to wear stick-on nametags on our backs and head covers, just so our co-workers and friends can know who we are. It’s easy to feel alone and unnoticed.

Our associates don’t need more snacks, although those are always welcomed. Our associates don’t need another pep-talk, even if those provide enough motivation to make it through the day. What our associates need is for the rest of the world to see their pain. What they need is to be reminded that, although this present moment sucks, this is the very thing they signed up for when they chose to pursue healthcare.

They chose to stand every day between the dead and the living, between the sick and the healthy regardless of consequences. They chose to put their lives on the line so other people, is spite of race, creed, or background, may have life. What they need is individuals from every walk of life to lift them up in prayer asking for strength, courage, peace and serenity.

And now, more than ever before we are literally standing next patients in the place of family. Now more than ever, nurses, palliative care and chaplains are sharing tears with one another and experiencing grief on behalf of loved ones.

Humans need hugs, and COVID-19 has taken those away. Community and presence are both part of the healing process, and now we’ve been forced to figure out how to incorporate those things into our plan of care without the ability to be next to one another.

As frustrating as that is to all of us, I have to constantly remind myself that love always causes pain. That suffering and grief will always be a part of our lives in this world. And, that our call, even after COVID-19 is no longer a threat, will continue to be difficult and challenging.

I’m honored to be part of such an amazing group of people.

“When you go out and see the empty streets, the empty stadiums, the empty train platforms, don’t say to yourself, “It looks like the end of the world.”

What you’re seeing is love in action. What you’re seeing, in that negative space, is how much we do care for each other, for our grandparents, for our immune-compromised brothers and sisters, for the people we will never meet.

People will lose jobs over this. Some will lose their businesses. And some will lose their lives.

All the more reason to take a moment, when you’re out on your walk, or on your way to the store, or just watching the news, to look into the emptiness and marvel at all of that love.

Let it fill you and sustain you.

It isn’t the end of the world. It is the most remarkable act of global solidarity we have ever seen.                                                     

-Author Unknown

Dany Hernandez is a chaplain at Littleton Adventist Hospital: selfie photo by the author

By Dr. Heather Thompson Day — Denver, Colorado … Last week I was finishing a work project that took me till after midnight. I felt fine. Tired but, fine. Suddenly, as I was trying to re-read my document, my eyes went blurry. I literally couldn’t get them to focus on anything at all. I couldn’t see. A few minutes later I realized that I was unable to get words that I knew in my brain, to be said by my mouth. I knew that I knew them, but when I tried to say them, the part of my brain that controlled language, was simply not functioning. It lasted for about an hour, and it was very scary and frustrating.

This has happened to me only one time before. It was three years ago, and I was finishing my doctoral program and studying for comprehensive exams. I felt fine. Tired, but fine. Suddenly my eyes got blurry, and I could no longer read and then my brain struggled to provide me with language for words that I knew. I was scared I was having a mini stroke at 30. I went to the ER, and after a couple tests, was told that what I had wasn’t a stroke at all, but something called a migraine with aura, which often only occurs when someone is under acute stress. I was not fine.

I know how to take care of my family. I know how to handle tuck in’s and bath time. Every night before my kids go to sleep, I tell them one thing I am proud of them for. I know how to support my husband. I know what words to say to keep him focused, and what look to give to make him feel loved. I am really good at being a team player at work, writing the emails no one else wants to draft, and telling my boss he can count on me to tie up the loose ends.

You know what I am not good at? Taking care of myself. According to the American Institute of Stress, about 33 percent of people report feeling extreme stress. 77 percent of people experience stress that affects their physical health and 73 percent of people have stress impact their mental health. Stress is literally killing us in this country. We are buried beneath it and we all exist in it so deeply that we trick ourselves into believing it’s normal. Often, we don’t realize the toll it is taking on us physically or mentally, until there is an actual disruption to our daily lives. A panic attack, a migraine with aura, or worse.

This week, I want you to reclaim your Sabbath. The fact that as Seventh-day Adventists, we get to fully grasp a God who commands our rest, is incredibly beautiful. God doesn’t just want your worship; He wants your rest. What does that tell you about the character and image of God? Self-care should not be a privilege afforded to the wealthy. In God’s ideal government, it is a command afforded to all creation.

So, breathe. Watch the show you worry is a waste of your time. Read the book you know you won’t be able to put down. Take a nap, go for the walk, call and sit on the phone with a friend. Do something for you. Let your body take a break from the chaos that is COVID-19, and the worry that is life in 2020.

But above all that, this week, keep your Sabbath. Rest in Him. Because we serve a God who doesn’t just want your productivity. He wants your rest.

Dr. Heather Thompson Day is a member of LifeSource Adventist Fellowship, and a communication professor at Colorado University, and author of six books, including Confessions of a Christian Wife. Photo by Davide Cantelli on Unsplash

By Erick Maldonado — Loveland, Colorado … Being outside can provide a nice break from being locked in during this long quarantine. Fortunately for neighborhoods across America, kids are finding a new reason to venture outside.

“Bear Hunts,” as they’re called, involve placing stuffed bears in windows visible from the street. Kids can then walk through the neighborhood and attempt to spot them all. It adds a little bit of interest to walking around the neighborhood, especially since that’s all they can do outside now.

“I noticed bears in windows around my neighborhood, and I thought it was cute,” says Naomi Boonstra, a senior at Campion. “I looked up what they were for and decided to get in on it. Now, I see the kids in my neighborhood stopping outside the house every once in a while, to point at my three little bears in the front window. It’s a nice way to stay feeling like a community when we can’t see each other as much.” Throughout this pandemic, we’re seeing more and more people finding creative ways to draw together.

Walking through his own neighborhood, Ben Maxson, a junior at Campion, noticed a sign on a house that read, “We love the senior class of 2020!” Then he saw another house with a similar sign. He noticed that the neighborhood was full of them.

“I think it’s really cool that people still want to show their excitement for the graduating classes this year,” says Ben. “It’s a small act, but it shows big character.”

Although the pandemic has forced us into isolation, it’s nice to see the spirit of unity among communities around America. Together, we can shine a little bit of light on a dark situation.

Erick Maldonado is a Guest Contributor to This Week at Campion; photo supplied

By Karla Klemm — Grand Junction, Colorado … “You’re not going to like this assignment,” were the words I heard as two coworkers entered my office. It’s funny what the brain thinks in split seconds.  As the manager of the WIC program for Mesa County, a supplemental nutrition program for Women, Infants and Children, I usually have a schedule that is quite consistent and routine, thanks also to a wonderful staff.  Little did I realize that this would change for awhile.  It turns out it was “all hands-on deck” for the COVID-19 effort and I was needed to coordinate the COVID sampling site for my county.

Now my days are filled with coordinating volunteers, making sure the physical site is ready and that the sample kits are in place, working with new departments that I usually don’t interact with, and also checking in with staff that are now working remotely.  I am proud of being involved with an effort to stem the tide of this unprecedented pandemic.

The first day of my new assignment, to say I was exhausted, was an understatement.  When I hear media reports that fellow citizens are trying to find ways to prevent boredom with this quarantine, I realize this is not my reality.

My husband David, who isn’t necessarily known for his culinary skills, has stepped up to the plate and is now the head salad maker of our household.  He’s learned that Google has a lot of advice to offer about how to cook a potato.

Realizing that this assignment could go on for a while, I have found how important sleep is.  In the morning, after a devotional, I take 20 minutes to do a stretching routine on PBS, called Classical Stretch, which is similar to Tai Chi.  I feel like I’m stronger because of it.

When I get home after work, I check out David’s latest salad creation, head to my small backyard, take off my socks and bury my feet in the grass and do some “earthing.” There is definitely power in nature and I have enjoyed watching spring unfold.  My cat, Thea (pictured), has also benefited from this ritual as she is usually housebound.  The birds have a different opinion as they watch the bird feeder from a tree, awaiting Thea’s absence from the yard.

When the weekend comes, I am so thankful for the Sabbath.  I have been listening to music I forgot I had in my iTunes account and also reading books and articles I haven’t had time for during the week.  I like to cook and try new plant strong recipes, go Nordic walking or move plants around in my flower garden.  Our daughter, who lives in Los Angeles, is working from home for now.  Talking with her more frequently makes us very happy.  Also, during this time of isolation, I have enjoyed seeing the homes of the newscasters as they “zoom” from their abodes.  It makes them more relatable to me.

As we all grapple with how to react during this time, I feel the power of poetry is needed more than ever.  Here is an excerpt from a poem by Kitty O’Meara, a Wisconsin chaplain, which seems to sum it up:

“And the people stayed at home
And read books
And listened
And they rested
And made art and played
And learned new ways of being
And stopped and listened
More deeply
Someone meditated, someone prayed
Someone met their shadow
And people began to think differently
And people healed…”

Karla Klemm is a dietitian and lives in Grand Junction where she coordinates cultural gatherings for the Grand Junction Seventh-day Adventist Church. Photos by Karla Klemm.

Karla Klemm & Heidi, nursing coordinator

By Tony Hunter–Boulder, Colorado … My pajamas are amazing. They bring me soft, gentle comfort day after day after day. We are now intimate acquaintances. And, as much joy as they bring me, I like to think I bring them the same kind of joy, as I currently live to fulfill their purpose.

Hi. My name is Tony Hunter, and I’m a hospice chaplain who has just begun his fifth straight week of chaplaincy from my couch as a result of the Covid-19 Stay-at-Home order. Since then, I have not been able to “see” a single patient, family, or team member in person. Instead, I sit on my comfy couch whilst wrapped in my comfy PJs doing chaplaincy things.

Normally, I spend my days driving to different nursing facilities and homes, visiting my patients and/or their families. I carry a caseload of 35-40 patients, 100 percent of whom are dying, 100 percent of whom I have to see every week. Their families are grieving and trying to figure out how to care for their parent, spouse, or child who may have months or days to live. The patient may know they are dying, but most don’t even realize they are sick, as most have some level of cognitive decline. Many can’t communicate at all.

Some do not recognize their family. This makes the grieving process hard for families because, not only are they losing their loved one physically, they’ve already lost their loved one emotionally and psychologically. They sometimes spend months in a steady state of anticipatory grief, and it is my job to sit with the family as they walk through that.  Often, the best we can do is help them to not suffer and grieve alone.

The same is true for patients. It may be about listening to them as they ask questions like “I’m 97. Why won’t God let me die?” But most often, I’m another face who came to visit them, and in their minds in that moment, I’m the only person who came to visit them, because they can’t remember that their family comes every day. They believe they’ve been abandoned and that no one loves them enough to visit them. They don’t remember me seconds after meeting, and instead think I’m a nephew or grandson, or husband. One time, I was their daughter–that was a weird day–and it’s my job to smile and go with it and help them feel loved and not alone. My greatest tools aren’t my words, but instead my hands that hold theirs, my arms that give hugs, and my warm body that sits in the room with them when they are no longer able to form words.

And then Covid-19 came and took away most of my tools. Zoom and other telehealth platforms can be used, but most of my patients don’t remember how phones work, and they wonder who that weird voice is talking to them through the plastic thing in their hand. Sometimes a facility member will try to hold a phone for them, or open up a video conferencing app, but most can’t engage it and most of those become agitated because they don’t understand it.

Chaplains in the hospital setting are also adapting. They can no longer go in patient rooms and have use mobile Telehealth carts to video chat with a patient from outside their room. It works, but it requires adaptation of practice as the normal way of presence and relaxed intentionality no longer work the same. And that is if the hospital is set up for such things, in which case chaplains can’t visit at all beyond phone calls to rooms. In education, schools are shut down which means chaplains are utilizing video conferencing or even just texting with students in need. In that setting the need is often increased as some students are stuck away from their families with only social media to make connections.

Just like in hospice, families can’t see their loved ones. But therein lies something important. Before, I was sitting with people in their experience, but now I am talking with people as I share their experience. And that subtle difference is infinitely important. I sit in my house in my pajamas, just like the families. I give them a phone call, because I can’t leave my house to see people, just like them. And we talk about what it’s like to be isolated from the people we care about and love. The difference is, when this is done, I’ll get to see my people again. But for many families, the next time they will be allowed to see their loved one is when that person dies. This has opened up a new and more efficient avenue for helping families process their loss.

Before, I would have to work hard to get some families to engage the reality of fatigue and loss. But now, it’s hitting them immediately. When I call them, they start talking about being isolated and stuck at home, then quickly they speak of how hard it is to know their loved one is alone. But then the truth comes out. Because the loved one with the cognitive decline hasn’t actually noticed a difference during quarantine. But the family has. Now, the family begins to recognize what that loved one must feel like all the time, and now the family fears they will never see their loved one again this side of death, and now they have no ability to hide from the reality.

As a result, my work is strangely more intimate. We get to start from a shared perspective. I get to be present with them in a new way. There is less physical presence, but now there is shared emotional presence and together we share our experience. And we share tears. And the reality they have denied for so long becomes very real and we confront it together. We step right into it and walk through it. And whether we pray together for strength on the journey, or whether I listen as they rage against an unfair God, we keep moving forward in spite of fear and loss and regret.

We move forward together, sharing in each other’s wisdom, companionable in the shared reality, all while seated on our comfy couches wrapped in our soft pajamas. Because in our pajamas, shut away in our homes far distant from each other, I may be more accessible than ever.

I’m going to be glad when Covid-19 loses its hold on society. But I may never not wear my pajamas again.

Tony Hunter is a Seventh-day Adventist pastor and a Hospice Chaplain working for Elevation Hospice in Northern Colorado; Photo by Shutterstock