There was that time I flew to Houston for an afternoon. A few years ago a conference had wanted me to deliver a single keynote address and nothing more, so they suggested I fly down in the morning, speak in the afternoon, and head home in the evening. It ended up being quite a day—I spoke at a conference 1,500 miles from my home, but woke up and went to sleep in my own bed. I’m sure I didn’t appreciate just what a remarkable thing that was.
On August 15 two of my children need to be just 500 miles south of home in Louisville, Kentucky where my daughter is set to be a freshman at Boyce College and my son is beginning his third year at both Boyce College and the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. Under normal circumstances this would be no more than a one-night trip if we flew or a two-night trip if we drove. But here in the age of coronavirus, it has become an odyssey. For my kids it involves a short journey, a lengthy quarantine, and a quick virus test. For me it involves two short journeys and two lengthy quarantines, one
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