After I returned from Honduras, I felt a headache creating. A fast thermometer examine prompted a name to my physician’s COVID-19 recommendation line.

I pressed all of the choices within the telephone tree till a nurse lastly answered.

Once I reported my fever of 100.3, her triage questions turned extra centered.

“No, I don’t have a cough,” I stated. “Only a slight headache.”

Extra questions. Extra solutions.

“No, I’m not nauseated.”

She recorded my solutions on a clicking keyboard whereas she multitasked her interrogatives about journey and publicity.

“Effectively, I’ve been in Honduras the place I used to be serving to the Chispa Mission set up elementary-school libraries,” I stated. “Sure ma’am, I discover it very rewarding.”

I downplayed the hazard as being solely a half-dozen instances once I left final month, so “no publicity that I do know of,” I add.

She mumbled one thing, so I give her a “Pardon me?” adopted by “Sure, I suppose I’m calm.”

“Why?” she requested.

“Effectively, possibly it’s from my years working as a chaplain, however largely I’m calm as a result of I’m beginning to assume that my thermometer may be damaged.”

Her “uh-huh” sound is identical one I take advantage of once I hear sufferers in deep denial.

She granted me a second to attempt my thermometer once more and I quickly report 102.6.

My face flushed with warmth, melting away my calm.

I began a textual content message to my finest buddy and hospital chaplain, Roger Williams. I needed to inform him that I’m dying, when out of the blue, my thermometer screeches with discordant beeps.

I questioned aloud about its reliability.

I heard the nurse’s incredulous response.

“Actually? Thermometers can malfunction when the batteries are dying?

I attempted one other studying, hoping that it’s the battery’s second to die moderately than mine.

A couple of minutes later, I inform her it’s plummeted to 86.6. It’s a “meer-i-cle” I advised her in my finest impression of a televangelist.

The nurse agreed, not fully capable of suppress her chuckles.

My seek for assist from a damaged thermometer tells me a number of issues: I’m scared. I’m anxious for solutions. I’m nervous about my family and friends, my pregnant daughter.

The false studying jogged my memory of the misinformation we’re ingesting from varied sources.

Fb mates endorsed Sweden’s effort to hurry to herd immunity. A politician speculated aloud on the effectiveness of warmth remedy or injecting disinfectant. And some pastors claimed both God’s safety over them or “god’s” judgment over you. My lowercase “g” is intentional as a result of solely a lowercase god would damage his folks.

So the place is the capital-G God?

God is within the ready room with us. He waits whereas we wait. He hurts whereas we damage. He grieves whereas we grieve. He provides readability to the caregivers and luxury to the dying.

And in that point, he sustains us, he uplifts us. He cries with us and generally he helps us to chortle.

Gratefully, as my name with the nurse concluded, we shared fun on the scared, hypochondriac chaplain.

“Sure, I can take two Tylenol for my headache and, what else did you say?”

“Sure ma’am, I’ll purchase a brand new thermometer and name you within the morning.”

Thanks for donations to “Chispa Mission.” Extra information at https://chispaproject.org/help/ Ship feedback or Chispa donations to 10566 Combie Street, Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. E-mail comment@thechaplain.net or voicemail at (843) 608-9715.