I have officially entered the Covid-style information era. Oh, we’ve been doing FaceBook Live at church pretty much since the beginning. And one of our small groups has been doing Zoom from the start as well. But not me. Not Zoon. We tried it once when Josh and his boys were setting up a fantasy baseball league, but we never did get it to work. But now …
The
chaplain from the local hospital here, UTMB, did a presentation to the
ministerial alliance, notifying us that pastors were once again welcomed on campus,
to a certain extent. They are re-issuing
visitor badges, so we have to jump through the proper hoops to get vetted. Of course a lot of the hoops have been
generated by Covid protocols, so some things can’t yet happen in person. The orientation interview for clergy is one
of those. And it was only being done via
Zoom. Hey, how hard could it be, right?
I
clicked on the link she sent me about fifteen minutes ahead of time, just to
give me time to get familiar with everything.
Good thing. It couldn’t find the
Zoom app I had already downloaded on my computer, so it downloaded a new
one. And then, when it automatically opened
the new one, there was a message that to receive this particular Zoom meeting,
the software I had just downloaded had to be updated. So it took off doing that. It finally showed a screen indicating that
the host for the meeting would be opening the doors soon. Guess I did the right things. Actually I didn’t do anything but watch. But I was glad I started early.
All
of the updates were completed with about three minutes to spare, so I read some
while I waited. The set time for the interview
came and went with no change, so I was beginning to get worried that I had left
out a step. But finally her face
appeared. Nice, reasonably cluttered
office. She said hello, and I responded,
but she then said she couldn’t hear me, and I needed to unmute myself. Great.
How do I do that? A message
appeared saying to push Alt-A, so I tried that.
Nope. I accidentally bumped the
mouse, and an options bar magically appeared at the bottom of the picture. Sure enough, there was a picture of a
microphone with an X through it. I
clicked on and started talking again.
Success. She said she could hear
me. But then she indicated that she couldn’t
see me. Oh, great. Another button. But I was an old pro now. I moved the mouse and the bar
reappeared. And there was a little
camera with an X on it. Click. Success.
I was viewed. I apologized for my
lack of technological prowess, and explained that this was my first time
Zooming. I said that I was beginning to
wonder if I should have called one of my grandchildren to do this for me. She concurred that generally they are the way
to go with all things technology.
The
session was pretty simple. She just went
over the “Seventeen Commandments:” the most important things a visiting pastor
should know and do. Things like, “Don’t
use your card when you are here to be seen yourself,” and “Limit visits to 30
minutes,” and “If the patient doesn’t want to see you, we will kick you out,”
and that all-time favorite, “No proselytizing in the halls.” She found my photo in the system, so I don’t
need to take another for my new ID card.
Now I just need to let them know when I am coming and stop by and pick
up the card. That’ll make me officially
official, I guess. Oh, and she said to
feel free to call their office any time I might need them to make a visit for
me or to help in any way. Great folks,
those chaplains …
Psalms
46:1 says, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”
Father,
thank you for the chaplains at the hospital.
Bless them for the work they do there.
Amen.
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