Britta

Sam and I have been struggling with "Do we get the Covid shot or not?"  We have family on both sides of the aisle, some who are a big stronger on the anti-vaccine/conspiracy theory side and some who have had the shot.

Our friends cover all sides of the aisle, too, from wanting it to never will take it.

Co-workers in education mostly want it.  Co-workers elsewhere do not.

My friend, the chiro, said she will never get it and sent information why.  My chiro can't wait until he gets it.

We were torn, until we watched a Focus on the Family YouTube that really encouraged people to get it.  Sam got his thirty minutes after we watched the show.

I got mine yesterday.  My entire drive up, I was praying.  "God, if You don't want me to get it, You can stop me.  I would prefer not to have another accident, but I can handle a flat tire.  Maybe the freeway can shut down . . . You can do anything."  

He didn't.  I arrived on-time.  I signed in.  I was called in to my "vaccination cubby".  The nurse's name was Britta.  A most uncommon name.  The name of our beloved social worker.  I felt the peace of God descend.  I got the shot.