RSS

Author Archives: Bonnie Lyn Smith

Unknown's avatar

About Bonnie Lyn Smith

Like anyone else, I have worn many hats: editor, speaker, columnist, Sunday School teacher, prayer warrior, traveler, depression fighter, child advocate, dance/band/robotics/karate/basketball mom, coffee server, foot-in-mouth socially awkward person, and, most recently, author. I hope, on my better days, I am mostly servant of Jesus, loving wife and mother, and devoted friend.

Christmas and the Post Office: One Local Legend Brings Holiday Cheer

Christmas and the Post Office-One Local Legend Brings Holiday CheerMany people associate the post office at Christmastime with incredible stress. Long lines. Grumpy, impatient people. Holding heavy packages and always forgetting some necessary label or custom form.

Will this make it for Christmas?

Did I pack it right?

Does that guy really have to talk about his entire family when there are 12 other customers behind him?

Why can’t they open another line?

Did the whole world come out today to mail everything in their houses?

(I think we can all safely say we’ve thought something like that at one point or another.)

But not in my local post office. In my small, local post office, people come from several towns over just for the main manager’s 365-days-a-year cheer.

He is never grumpy. Never unkind. He often runs that place by himself and sings, blesses, offers counsel, is patient, loves on everyone, and knows each person by name.

He has been known to sing “Baby, It’s Cold Outside!” while smacking down the priority mail tape.

No matter how much we Type A customers perseverate on if we used the right tape and box, he has a patient word.

He stops what he is doing to pick up mail that fell out of someone’s P.O. Box so she doesn’t have to come back.

If an elderly customer is worried about a parcel that is arriving today, he offers a reassuring word and tells him to come back because he’ll leave the door open as long as he can before closing time.

When tensions seem to rise in the line, he cracks a joke, remembers something sweet about someone in line, or starts crooning a song playing in the background.

He’s like a hit of therapy, offering a smile and encouragement, his trademark line: “It’s all about you, Darlin'” to each and every customer.

Today, he was a one-man-band, and everyone in that place, whether or not his/her heart was tuned to the grumpy station upon walking in, was in good spirits, helping each other wrap and pack, passing parcel stickers assembly-line-style, and openly declaring how this is the best post office on the planet. (It truly is! I’ve lived in several states and in two other countries. He’s the best!)

I’ve never seen anything like this so close to the holiday mail crunch with so many stressed-out people choosing to follow his lead of love and kindness.

One man came in, and it was his first experience in our post office. He was discouraged by something and in need of cheer. I watched over 20 people show gentle-heartedness and compassion—if not directly to him, then to each other. He walked out of there with a smile on his face, as if he had just received his blessing.

And I truly believe with all my heart that:

Jesus came for this.

This is Christmas.

How can I tie Jesus to one cheerful postal attendant? Isn’t that taking things too far?

Well, Jesus came to bend down to wash feet. He offered a kind word to the orphan, the widow, the lame, the short dude in the tree, the woman about to be stoned, and the sick of body, heart, and/or mind. Nobody walked away the same after meeting Him. I’ve personally never been the same. I can’t be talking to Jesus or singing to Him and be anything but inspired, lifted up, and changed for the better.

Matthew 20:28, Jesus speaking, ESV
“…the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

John 13:3-5, 12-15, Apostle John narrating, ESV
Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

When he had washed their feet and put on his outer garments and resumed his place, he said to them, “Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you.”

And I see this postal worker not just going through the motions with the daily grind or even giving it his very best. He goes way beyond slapping the stamps on and asking if there is anything “fragile, liquid, or hazardous.” He checks the pulse of every person coming through the line and doesn’t let them walk away with malaise. He checks in. He cares. He’s like a personal care nurse in U.S.P.S. standard-issue clothing.

How many of us approach our jobs this way?

Or do we count down the minutes until our people interactions are over?

Do we just check off the to-do list without enthusiasm?

How many of us consider how we can change lives, impact hearts, bring hope in the middle of whatever it is we are doing?

When we stop to acknowledge the faces we see, whether we are hanging off a garbage truck slinging trash in frigid temperatures, checking people in at a frenzied pediatrician’s office, packing groceries, wiping baby bottoms, etc., do we truly realize how much we can affect a life for good? How we can bring “better” to someone’s day?

And isn’t that incredibly worth it?

Isn’t that reflecting the Father’s heart who sent a baby Savior for His children at Christmas?

It blessed me so much to see one woman give back. As he was ringing up my package, she handed him some eggnog and a packaged treat. Everyone in that line had a story to tell about our local legend who kept an entire tiny office with a crowded line patient, conversing, content.

He passed on something that then became wildly contagious: joy and hope.

How can we do more of this in our spheres of influence, with our coworkers, clients, children, fellow grocery shoppers, bosses, spouses, strangers, or even with those we are waiting in a post office line?

This Christmas, this is what I’m thinking about, thanks to one dedicated, kindhearted man doing his job with joy in a hectic season when many hearts are hurting and nerves are raw.

What inspires you this Christmas?

*This blog has been shared at any link highlighted here: Mom 2 Mom Monday Link-Up, Make a Difference Mondays, Pick Your Pin Tuesday, Women With Intention Wednesdays, Grace & Truth, A Little R & R, RaRa Link-Up, Me, Coffee & Jesus, Dance With Jesus, Blessing Counters, Sunday Thoughts Link-Up, Saturday Soiree, Tell His Story, Find Stability, So Much at Home, Faith-Filled Fridays, Reflect His Love and Glory Link-Up, Bonbon & Coffee Linkup, and Christian Mommy Blogger.

 

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Warm Hand of Jesus on Cold Days of Doubt

The Warm Hand of Jesus on Cold Days of Doubt

Do you ever need tangible reassurance when anxiety and self-doubt whack you around?

I’ve had the kind of week where I realized nothing was in my control. Maybe you’ve already figured this out, but I still find myself thinking I’m at the helm. It turns out I’m really not.

Nothing earth-shattering was wrong. It was more like low-level frustrations piling up. I chased down a new specialist for one of my children, playing phone tag for days. I could not get a professional I was working with to fulfill an expectation. My traveling husband was gone when I needed to be in three places at once and could have used his help. Christmas wrapping and packaging exploded all over my bedroom. And some of the goals I set for myself post-publishing to market my book were not working out. One of my kids is learning the responsibility of texting and emailing apps for the first time, and her emails went out 70 times to a friend because of a glitch. Yeah, that was just awesome.

Not being able to control other people’s end of an interaction (or computer glitches, LOL) can feel like personal failure some days. But the truth is: It’s not. Some days we wait for a reply, a response, someone to do something we asked them to or paid them for, a problem to come right that we’re working on. It may feel like we’re spinning our wheels on so many things in life. I felt like I could not propel myself forward in any way this past week. Everything I attempted fell flat on its face or blinked at me like a “No Walking” signal that allows traffic to keep moving from all directions but never seems to let me cross. The world seems so slow in those moments, as if the clock is ticking only intermittently, and it can feel like everyone is looking at us waiting for our next move.

When life moved that slowly for me this week and I could not accomplish anything, the temptation was to spin into endless cycles of self-doubt and catastrophic thinking. Know what I mean? Read the rest of this entry »

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Finding Advent

Finding AdventIn my book Not Just on SundaysI share a story about how one year, I secretly laughed my way up to do a family Advent reading in church—not because Advent is funny, but because I felt like a hypocrite telling the congregation to take rest in the anticipation of Advent when I hadn’t found rest that particular season. Not one ounce of it.

And ever since then, I’ve been in pursuit of Advent. Unlike the pursuit of finding Nemo, the orange clownfish that needed his friends and father to locate him many years ago in the infamous Disney film, Advent doesn’t need to be “found” in order to be rescued. It is there whether or not I choose to observe it. But if I looked for it, paused for it, and asked God about it, I just knew I could find it in more meaningful ways.

And I figured out a few things along the way. It’s been a journey. There’s been a learning curve, and I’m often a slow learner.

1. I give myself permission to not put up all decorations. I don’t even have to decorate each room. Twenty-one years of accumulating decorations and traditions pile up and start demanding to be followed. I can’t keep up. It’s okay to let some of those go. What I did as a newly married 20-something decorating those first few Christmases does not have to define how I choose to make the house merry today.

This year, we are minimalists: tree, some candles, advent setting, wreath, stockings.

I do not have to set up a Biblical times village or Thomas Kinkade-like warm scene of a street and candle shop in ceramics to usher in Christmas. Jesus did this for us. A simple baby in a manger, a humble birth, among the animals in a barn.

2. Advent observations can be few and still incredibly meaningful. The LEGO Advent calendar is fun. So is a box of pop-open windows with chocolate inside. Starbucks has even joined the Advent celebration with a chalkboard of tins dating through each day of December. Reading the Christmas story each day on a book ornament is sweet. So are lit candles each Sunday, with a time of songs and Scripture. We like reading through a Bible times Advent book (see these awesome Advent books by Arnold Ytreeide).

What isn’t fun is feeling like we have to do all of these. Legalism. Bah! So we got smart this year and chose about three of those.

3. I do not have to be a Christmas card overachiever. If writing 100 cards puts me in a Jesus Love frame of mind, then awesome! I love to write personal messages to folks. But if it’s a year when life is frenzied, and meeting that self-imposed or societal obligation will cause me angst, which takes me away from dwelling on why my Savior came, I don’t need to do it that year. Striving is never our goal. Jesus said in Matthew 11:28-30 that His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. If we are doing something that feels like striving, we are not finding His true rest. And Advent is about resting in the gift of Him.

Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus speaking, ESV
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

I also can enjoy Christmas cards other people wanted to send me and not experience self-condemnation for not sending them out—or not sending them quickly enough, or on time. (I have to admit the first one to arrive in the mailbox Thanksgiving weekend always taunts the overachiever in me and fills me with angst all at the same time, even though I love reading handwritten notes.)

4. I am avoiding the mall from December 1st on. For me, crowds of people drain me. Others are energized by them, but for me, Advent rest means escaping the retail scene in December. What is super fun for one person is someone else’s dread, so I’m just agreeing not to stress out over traffic, parking lot spaces, and massive amounts of people (especially the ones coming out of their kiosks to approach me if I want this hair extension or that flying helicopter—I know it’s their job to do that, but the introvert in me always wants to run).

5. I do not need to throw a cookie exchange, attend The Nutcracker, visit three living nativities, or attend five Christmas parties to mean the season is important or here. It’s already here. It’s important with or without me. I can jump on and grab what I’ve found, or I can let it pass me by because I’m getting dolled up or food-prepping for too many December events on the calendar. (Don’t get me wrong: Those events are all fun. It’s more about choosing a few wisely than stressing out our family calendar and feeling forever frenzied, thereby missing the point, despite our good intentions.)

6. What That Other Mom Over There does has nothing to do with my Advent. Comparison is a holiday slasher. It sucks the joyful spirit out of festivities and celebration like a thirsty kid getting every last bit of that Blue #1 food coloring Icee out of the paper cup. [Even though it has nothing to do with Advent really, don’t even get me started talking about Elf on the Shelf! I’m not morally opposed to it; it’s a cute idea. Many of my friends have so much fun with it. I’m just afraid to start myself up yet another Mombligation I will fail or that will take years off my life stressing about achieving.]

7. The reverse of No. 6, Advent is not about my expectations on other people. It’s not about whether we were included in the neighborhood white elephant party, were invited to Aunt Nancy’s for Christmas dinner, received gifts from a certain family (because after all, we give their kids gifts every year for 17 years), and “can you believe the tacky blow-up Santa across the street? And she didn’t even put up her window candles this year! She’s really slacking. At least we’ve got those!”

Advent is actually the opposite of that. It’s everyone coming to the baby in the manger from the same humble position: bowed low. When we are bowing low, we are only looking at the position we came from—our own stance—and we cannot be concerning ourselves with what those around us are doing.

That’s the position of Advent.

8. Advent worship might look different every day. Today, I might be able to read my kids part of the story of Jesus. If we can’t sing around the table that week, we might enjoy “O Come All Ye Faithful” while riding in the car. Prayers might be geared toward children around the world needing to know the gift of Jesus. One day it might be a mention of thanks for Christ, or a journal entry. It could be sharing why and what our hearts celebrate with a friend who is curious but doesn’t share our faith.

Advent is every day in remembrance, but it is not a huge project or effort. It’s living from what Jesus has transformed inside our hearts.

9. No matter what, I don’t “do” Advent. It’s not an action verb on my part. It’s not something I achieve. God did this. Advent came to me. In a manger. Crying like me. Feeling pain and joy like me. Tempted like me. Dying for me.

10. Jesus wants me. The person. The relationship. The conversation. The yielded heart. The lover of His truth. He doesn’t care if my tree is up, my presents wrapped, if I’m a last-minute panic-shopper or the most organized mom on the planet. How many Christmas services/recitals/plays I attended or participated in make no difference in our relationship. He loves me right where I am, and stopping to spend time with Him, being still, listening for Him to lead my life, telling Him everything like a Holy BFF, coming to Him like a child: This, this is what He wants.

What do you think? What does Advent mean to you?

Isaiah 7:14, Isaiah the Prophet speaking, ESV
Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.

Jeremiah 23:5, Jeremiah the Prophet speaking, ESV
“Behold, the days are coming, declares the LORD, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.” 

 

*This blog has been shared at any link highlighted here: Mom 2 Mom Monday Link-Up, Make a Difference Mondays, Pick Your Pin Tuesday, Women With Intention Wednesdays, Grace & Truth, A Little R & R, RaRa Link-Up, Me, Coffee & Jesus, Dance With Jesus, Blessing Counters, Coffee & Conversation, Saturday Soiree, Tell His Story, Find Stability, Breakthru Link-Up, So Much at Home, Faith-Filled Fridays, Reflect His Love and Glory Link-Up, Bonbon & Coffee Linkup, and Christian Mommy Blogger.

 

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

An ADHD Child and His Not-a-Morning-Person Parent

An ADHD Child and His Not-a-Morning-Person Parent
“Hello. My name is Bonnie, and I am not a morning person….Oh, and I have an ADHD child.”

Notice which order I put those in?

I didn’t define myself by my atypical child.

I took ownership of my own issue. = First step to getting honest and dealing with the core issue: me, not my son with ADHD. (For more on my family’s struggles to make sense of ADHD, refer to the section of blogs dedicated to this subject matter and scroll through to see if anything interests you. My Reading List page also has a list of books that I found helpful.)

This blog is about the little morning explosions that happen when you take a very exuberant ADHD child straight out of bed in the morning and combine that with a sleepy mom who hasn’t had her coffee yet and barely got the first two kids out the door on their earlier buses. The Not-a-Morning-Person Mom. That one.

And it’s also about why I’m the one who has to change.

My almost-nine-year-old Tigger bounces out of bed like a ping pong ball shooting aimlessly around to eventually make it into the right slot—except that, in his head, he isn’t aimless. He’s accomplishing (or attempting to) about 12 things and processing many new ideas at once.

And…he’s eager to share them.

At 7 AM.

Contrast that with my sleepy mind that floated through the past 40 minutes getting the secondary school kids in my house out the door, and I’m still trying to retrieve the thought as to whether or not I packed both of those lunches, and did I tell them I wouldn’t be here right when they got home today?

I might even be thinking about the laundry. The pile of dishes I left last night. The fact I still have yet another lunch and snack to pack. And have I even stopped to use the bathroom this morning?

Is the coffee machine on? Did anyone turn it on yet?

While I’m still on Thought One and a Half, along comes my delightful, hyper, mostly happy youngest son who wants to share every thought in his head.

Right now.

Before coffee.

And I’m an introvert who not only hates morning but thrives on quiet in order to function and process.

“Oh, God, this is where I always feel like I fail.”

And I can get all grumbly, whiny, snappy, snarly, and inward right now. I can certainly get my selfish on. And I regularly do. But his disorder is here to stay. He can’t wish it away. He can “work on” coping skills and body regulation,

but he can’t stop having ADHD.

But I can find ways not to be grumbly, Not-a-Morning-Person, impatient Mom. I can go to bed and get up earlier. Start the coffee sooner. I can ask God to help me handle the bounce of life, energy, and mind from 7 AM until school drop-off. I have the warm hand of Jesus to hold. I can consult Him. I do not have to fail if I ask for His help. The thing is: I will fail if I don’t. I might stumble along and get a few things right now and again, but without the faith that God is carrying us both through these moments without wounds and fallout, I will not be whom I need to be for my son.

Since I pretty much analogize in coffee in my sleep, I will now share one here. (Aren’t you glad I don’t express these analogies in every blog?–wink!) I was thinking that my Little Man is like the air bubbles being blasted into the milk to make a nice frothy topper to the espresso drink. He comes in with full force and makes something flat and boring like milk burst into foamy, airy bubbles that soar above the dark espresso.

I’m the dark espresso…melancholic and weary, heavy and pensive in the morning, and in comes Mr. Bubbles of Life to make the drink more interesting, more varied, lighter. I am the strength under the foam, perhaps, but my strength can either encourage and support that lovely foam, or I can flatten it back to ordinary hot milk, with no vim and vigor—How boring!

My words and my attitude are choices. I can choose to see him as a complement to my personality and embrace the gift of us blended together in the wee, challenging hours of the morning, or I can squash his spirit, his mind, his heart.

It helps to get honest. I hope, if you have similar struggles as a parent (with either typical or atypical children), that you can feel some camaraderie in the struggle in my “get real” moment. I find that being honest about the journey brings me fresh perspective and offers hope that I can do better—not perfect, but better.

I want to “delight in blessing” every chance that I get. I want to “spring forth fresh water” and not muddy it up with my own salty murkiness.

How about you? How do you cope with these struggles? I’d love to hear from you.

James 3:9-12, James, brother of Jesus speaking, ESV

With it [tongue] we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and salt water? Can a fig tree, my brothers, bear olives, or a grapevine produce figs? Neither can a salt pond yield fresh water.

Psalm 109:17-18, David (not yet king) speaking, ESV

He loved to curse; let curses come upon him!
He did not delight in blessing; may it be far from him!
He clothed himself with cursing as his coat;
may it soak into his body like water,
like oil into his bones!

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Happy Thanksgiving from Espressos of Faith!

IMG_6637

Happy (U.S.) Thanksgiving!

I truly appreciate those of you who regularly follow “Espressos of Faith” as well as those of you who stop by to check it out! You have made this blog what it is, and I’m thankful for you.

I’m going to make this short, since we are hopefully all with loved ones and/or taking some good rest and food to restore ourselves. For those of you working, blessings on your day, and thank you for working a holiday for others who do not have to work it this year.

Today, I am thankful for family and friends, for healing and things still in the process of healing, for a published book (Not Just on Sundays), and for all those who made that possible (editors, artist, photographer, book marketer, printer, pastor, readers, and people who encouraged and prayed me through).

I’m grateful for lessons learned and for places where God is working out my character and peeling off areas of pride and replacing them with areas where I hopefully rely more on Him. I am thankful for His Holy Word, which brings the only true wisdom to me in managing marriage, raising children, getting through challenges, fighting things that come against us, seeing blessings even in the valleys we walk through, and healing relationships.

This has been an intense year for our family for many reasons, and I’m so thankful for lessons learned—sometimes painful—in the valley, where answers still were not on the horizon, and all we had was faith in things unseen. I’m grateful both for the people who walked through the valley with us as well as those currently in a valley of their own who allowed me in to hold their hands for a while.

Hebrews 11:1, Author unknown but he is recording the words of God, ESV 
Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

2 Corinthians 4:17-18, Apostle Paul speaking, ESV
For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison,
as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

We are thankful for the warm hand of Jesus in ours as each step we take—in work, our families, and our faith—is often uncertain, except for with Whom we are walking.

May you know the peace, rest, love, grace, mercy, and incredibly deep love of Christ this Thanksgiving and always!

Grateful for you,
Bonnie

[Did I mention I’m also thankful for chocolate-covered pretzels? And pie! 🙂 ]

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

When People Want to Walk Only in Our Rainbows—and Why That’s Okay

I was reflecting on mental wellness struggles (those in our house and in the lives of friends) lately when I saw this article in the Huffington Post: “What If People Treated Physical Illness Like Mental Illness?” It struck me how much of the article was true, but more than that, it reminded me of a related kind of problem: when people only want to see our rainbows, but we are currently walking in mud puddles.

mudsplashWhat I mean by that is this: So many times we hunger for a reciprocal connection in our relationships where we can tell about our entire day, not just the rainbow parts. Granted, a certain portion of our relationships are not going to go that deep. We can’t possibly maintain them all on that level. But there can be an overall sense of “checking in” with folks and only listening for the positive and ignoring the negative. In this blog post, I ask the question:

Is that wrong?

I’m not saying we should dwell on the bad stuff; however, if someone is in a season of months of chemotherapy, we might not want to go on and on about how good we feel (rainbows) and then shut the conversation down when they might want to vent for a second about how discouraged they feel (mud puddles). Balance is awesome.

In a word, this is about depth, but it’s also about with whom we can be real. We often know when our conversation needs to end at “Yeah, overall, we’re good” and when we can take it further and talk about the more raw stuff, the failure that just happened, the bump in our road, the learning experience. So many times people want to know why they are the last to know a sad, difficult, frustrating, devastating moment in our lives, but when we’ve tried in the past to go there, they really only wanted to hear the fluff.

Don’t get me wrong: My fluff conversations definitely serve a purpose. We can’t be meaty/heavy all of the time. But when someone has no interest beyond our rainbows and can’t handle our mud puddles, they tend to end up in the “last to know” pile because:

If you are there when the mud splashes all over me, and I don’t look too pretty and feel a bit like a fool—
you will be there for me when I have a bigger, harder thing to tell you, and I know you are safe in the rough waters.

If you only want to talk about kittens and lollipops under the rainbow, we can certainly do that because celebrating the sweet things is definitely an important part of life—
but you may find yourself on the other side of the line when my Mud Stomping Peeps rally during a heartache, and I don’t want you to feel left out, but you might feel that way anyway.

599259_4490802870800_100980581_nAnd if Rainbow Walkers are okay with that, I’m learning to be good with that too.

Here’s why:

I love the people in life who are really good at celebrating and pointing out positive things. It can be a bright light to keep us focusing on our blessings. It has tremendous value in our lives—as long as we can “get real” once in a while during a mud puddle moment and not be dismissed.

When people tell me, “Oh, good, I’m so glad that’s all better now,” when they didn’t convey in some tiny way that they walked the pain with me, it can sometimes feel dismissive, as if that chapter they couldn’t walk through with me didn’t matter, but

maybe, just maybe,

their role is to cheerlead only, from the rainbow side—to celebrate our walking out.

The only time this breaks down for me is people claiming they strolled through mud puddles with us when they are clearly still under the rainbow waiting for us to bebop back over in the form of our happier selves. If we’re Rainbow Walkers, let’s at least just be honest about it.

I love being in the rainbow. I love my happier self. But I can’t always take a stroll with people if they need to remain there and can’t walk over to the mud puddle once in a while to help someone else out. I am very happy to meet them back in Rainbow World, though, when I get out of the mud puddle, or when I get back from visiting someone else in his/her puddle.

Certainly, we strive for the rainbow, but mud is also present, and we all get stuck in it now and again. The rainbow reminds us there is hope and encourages us to look up when the mud is thick and seemingly holding us down.

Some thoughts to ponder when relationships feel strained:

  • Where can we look at our relational hurts or disappointments and consider if we have been a Rainbow Walker or Mud Stomper with a friend/family member? Maybe we’ve been both! 🙂
  • If we feel cast out or not in the know, where can we examine our communication and what we perhaps convey? Do we want to walk over to someone’s mud puddle, or keep our distance but support them when they get back to the rainbow?
  • If we feel safer dancing in rainbows, because that’s how we roll, that’s completely fine, but then can we accept that we may feel excluded when the march took a detour through some cloudier paths for a while?

It’s all about expectations—what role we play in any given relationship. It always is.

And understanding this distinction always helps me to keep my expectations where they should be, whenever I consider my role in the relationship and the role the other person also plays.

I used to get mad when people only wanted to see my rainbows, but now I realize they are there holding a place, and it’s okay if their feet didn’t get muddy yet.

Because I know muddy pretty well by now, and I know exactly how to bring them back to their rainbow when they find themselves in sludge they have never navigated before.

And when we get back to the rainbow, there will be a Rainbow Walker holding a place for us.

According to the Apostle Paul, from a Christian perspective, we each have something to give. Some cheerlead on the sidelines beckoning to the rainbow, and some walk into the mud to remind the mud dweller that there will be rainbow days again,

but until there are,

the Mud Stomper comes into the mess and says:

Here I am.” 

I believe Jesus was both.

Romans 12:4-13, Apostle Paul speaking, ESV
For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function,
so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.
Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith;
if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching;
the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness.
Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good.
Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.
Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord.
Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.
Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.

Genesis 9:12-13, Moses narrating, ESV
And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth.”

More on navigating relationships with healthy boundaries and much grace can be found in Not Just on Sundays: Seeking God’s Purpose in Each New Day.

This blog can also be found at Simply Inspired Wednesdays.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

When We Humans Find Ourselves Barking at Everything

IMG_5478

My otherwise laid-back, lazy, happy-go-lucky Shih Tzu Samson couldn’t care less about much most days. The world goes on around him, and he sometimes gets up to engage, but he’s often very content just to lay in his warm bed and give us a toothy grin or a quick glance of acknowledgment. Unlike his high-strung sister Delilah, he is easy to be around, low-maintenance, easy-going.

Except when he perceives something different outside as a threat. 

Usually this is a trash tote at the end of my neighbor’s driveway or a lawn mower my husband left out in the yard for a time. Sometimes it’s a squirrel, turkey, or deer, but most of the time it’s an inanimate object casting a shadow that isn’t usually there and therefore is a threat.

Samson can sit at our window-paneled door for 20 minutes solidly barking away at said “threat.” I often wonder if he finds it confusing that the trash can and/or lawn mower don’t therefore scurry immediately off—or at all.

And when I watch him going crazy for a while, spending all of whatever little energy he has being fierce protector against a mythical enemy, I see myself.

I see all of us.

How often do we, in times of stress, bat at everything in sight in front of us, viewing everything as a perceived threat?

How often do we live in attack mode, ready to pounce? This subject is touched on in “What Scaring Turkeys and Catastrophic Thinking Have in Common,” but looking at it from a slightly different angle: Whom are we screaming at, coming against, jumping on, cutting off, and defending ourselves against, when really, that person is just a lawn mower—coming to, of all things, mow the lawn?

I think so often we do this to those closest to us, with whom we are most comfortable, because we know they’re here to stay, and we need to attack something, after all, and they’re a ready, available, easy target. But I also think we run around in times of stress seeing everyone and everything as the enemy, against us, ready to snatch our time, money, or resources. Dumb as it sounds, it could be the driver in front of us some days whose mission, we’re convinced, is to keep us from getting to that appointment on time. (Yeah, because we know perfect strangers wake up every day plotting to make our lives difficult.)

Or maybe it’s the child coming into the room for math homework help when we finally sat down to pay a bill that’s overdue. Or maybe we just took our first few sips of coffee that afternoon? Maybe we were about to “get our peace on,” and they came into the only time of quiet we have had all day.

Could it be the phone call coming in from a friend who might need help? Do we see that as a drain, a struggle, a time suck, a distraction, keeping us from something else? Something we are frantically trying to cross off our to-do list?

What about the well-meaning neighbor kid coming to the door to sell popcorn for a cause? Is it his fault dinner is burning, our phone is ringing, the toilet is clogged, and the husband is home late?

How about the husband who just walked in the door and straight into Mama Rage without warning because an injustice in the kids’ world needed to be set right, and he’s the first adult she encountered since her anger started smoldering?

Not always, but often, our short, sharp, barky replies in response to anything that moves—or even things that don’t but we think they should!—are the result of us being way…too…busy and overplanned. And when we realize for a fleeting second that we are not God and can’t possibly accomplish all we set out to do that day, we notice we actually have no margins. Life quickly becomes ugly, frantic, stressful, and impossible, really. Nothing feels doable. Even the next crisis needs to take a number. We simply have no room for anything extra to squeeze in and need our attention.

Everything unplanned is “in the way”—and therefore barked at.

We are edgy, grumpy, short-of-temper, and really of no use to anyone.

Maybe that is never you. Or maybe you are around someone who is stuck in this rut and can’t see the light leading him/her out.

The first step is recognizing we have our bat out and are taking a good, solid swing at everyone in sight. (That might feel good in the moment, but we leave scars and dents all over the place that we later have to deal with. They don’t usually repair on their own, as I’m finding out.)

The second step is breathing deeply, being still, taking a moment to regather our thoughts. Pretzel breathing has become one of my new, closest friends. We need to clear our heads and allow for some self-reflection. Taking a few steps back can help us to see at whom and what we are slamming and to decide if that is truly warranted (it rarely is).

Third, for my family, we believe we need to ask God to cleanse our hearts:

Psalm 139:23-24, David speaking ESV
Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!

Psalm 51:9-12, David speaking, ESV
Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.

and bring us fresh peace: 

Psalm 29:11, David speaking, ESV
May the LORD give strength to his people! May the LORD bless his people with peace! 

Isaiah 26:3, Isaiah speaking, ESV
You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.

John 14:27, Jesus speaking, ESV
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.

Philippians 4:4-7, Apostle Paul speaking, ESV
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand;
do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. For us, these verses give us hope that we can stop barking. They offer a fresh start after repenting and then getting our peace on.

We’re not really in control, and barking and swinging are mere attempts to try to grab some control, order, and structure back. What we really need is to be still, examine ourselves, ask God to examine us, and let His peace wash over us to refresh us for the next thing coming our way.

Spoiler Alert: The “next thing” might not be in order on our list. It might very well be an interruption. Either way, we need His peace to keep us from sitting at the door ready to attack anything walking or standing by.

I’d rather live employing defense when I need it and not remain tense and rigid in a constant posture of offense. What about you?

Referring to this book again, because it’s pretty awesome:
Crazy Busy: A (Mercifully) Short Book About a (Really) Big Problem 
by Kevin DeYoung
http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/kevindeyoung/

 
 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Goodbye, Monkey Box, and Goodbye, Hoarding!

IMG_6605 IMG_6607

Wow. This is a big day. If you are or live with someone with hoarding, collecting, or obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) tendencies, you will appreciate this. I asked my little hoarder if we could please get rid of this “monkey box” (which is referenced in Not Just on Sundays: Seeking God’s Purpose in Each New Day at the very end of the section on ADHD, so it’s special to me too) today because we needed to clear out some things. He didn’t deliberate, perseverate, complain, or bargain. He just. Let. Go. “Okay!” HUGE VICTORY over here! Thank You, God! We are making progress. (We are photo documenting so we can purge in freedom.)

I have Little Man home sick with me for the fourth day in a row. He found something on Cartoon Network, and I was going to finish some expense reports (yawn), but then Little Man rediscovered his love for his NERF gun and wanted to build some structures with Magna-Tiles® and knock them down in his room. I’m good with that. So, as he headed up to pursue that for a while, he said these magic words: “Mom, I want to play in my room, but it’s too cluttered.”

WHAT?

Okay, first step to healing is admitting there is a problem. Well done, Little Man.

So, then I dropped the expense report and went upstairs with him, asking: “How would you like me to help you de-clutter your room?” And he told me exactly what he wanted moved out of the way.

More progress. He had the executive functioning skill to know where things needed tidying.

And then I saw it: The monkey box. The one that Chickie (his big sister) helped him make one cold, winter day when the rest of us were outside shoveling 20 inches of snow. She helped him plan, execute, and clean up this project. At the time, monkeys were the latest obsession, and we decided art would be more therapeutic and cheaper than allowing the pile-up of ten different species of monkey in plush form playing zoo in his toy hammock.

It’s been a journey realizing that we have more than just a collector in our house. I can actually measure his anxiety levels based on how strongly he fights throwing something out or giving it away. Over the years, we have hoarded pirate toys (that part is my fault, as discussed in “The Pirate Who Saves Good People“), superheroes, Rescue Heroes, Pokémon toys, art projects, drawings, stuffed animals (particularly bats), etc. I recently learned from his child therapist that I need to stop letting him collect so obsessively. It’s not that we spend a lot or even on the spot. We make him wait for a special occasion and save up his money. But it’s apparently allowing him to order his world around things he can control, and it’s spinning his thoughts into perseveration—a no-no for OCD folks. So, we are learning to limit our collections, expand our interests, and purge our toy and art closets. I love this because we can all think more clearly when we clear our personal space, rooms, desk, and environment.

Anyway, I took a minute to ask him if we could get rid of the monkey box. I held my breath, completely prepared for the buckle-down, inflexible, anxious response. The past few days his mind had swirled about tornadoes and other such concerns (even though they rarely happen here in New England). He had fallen ill with a fever, and I think that all kicked in the anxiety this week. I’m learning to anticipate the triggers and ride the wave. So, I just about danced out of the room when he told me: “Okay, sure.” There wasn’t much of a pause, no second-guessing, no take-backs, no decision remorse. He was busy with NERF target creation. Beautiful!

I grabbed that lovely box and ran out of the room, with the few recyclables inside of it (yes, he hoards those too…right out of my recycle bin), not looking back. I even tested the waters by having him walk by it in the kitchen before I had a chance to bury it in Big Bad Recycling Tote outside into which no eight year old would care to dive. He walked by it a trip or two.

Still no comment.

So I finally took it out.

I’m not sure why I tempted him. I guess I wanted to know how far we had progressed, and I was willing to face the fallout.

Maybe I’ve progressed too.

Matthew 6:19-23, Jesus speaking, ESV
“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light, but if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!”

Most days, I strive to give him a choice of what to purge. That is empowering and teaches him how to manage the clutter independently. I’ll admit that on school days when I’m in a spring cleaning frenzy, I will toss some artwork and no-longer-touched projects out without permission. Most of the time, those don’t get asked about. Toys, on the other hand, do (reference “Dolly in a Stinky Sack of Potatoes” in Not Just on Sundays: Seeking God’s Purpose in Each New Day). Today we celebrate freedom, decreased anxiety, and getting healthier. Monkey boxes have their purposes. This one definitely saw him through a tough time, as did Chickie, when he was climbing his way out of a depressive episode.

But like anything else, we can’t “lay treasures up for ourselves” and think they help us control life. They serve a purpose, and most times, we move on—or we should. Holding onto our clutter makes us and everyone else around us anxious. It reflects our inner turmoil and our sometimes desperate grasp for control. It becomes a crutch when we lean on it too much. If we cannot part with something, it keeps our focus from being clear and on what can really be trusted.

For our family, that is our Father in heaven. As Jesus described in the Gospel of Matthew, our stored-up treasure reflects our heart, and what we see with our eye (the “lamp of the body”) can either shine light and clarity or cloud our thinking and ability to see. He is referring here to sin, but I think the analogy also works well for anything we are cluttering our lives with that we mistakenly feel we can’t part with.

Today was a victory. I’m so proud of Little Man. Each step toward not being controlled by or trying to control and hold onto things is a step toward the amazing freedom Christ bought for us when hanging on that cross, dying, and rising again. Little Man is already free. He just needs to learn to see those chains as gone as they really are.

We’ll get there.

By the way, I came downstairs and decided to make pumpkin muffins instead. Expense report can wait. 🙂

This was shared at Grace & Truth.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear Middle Child: A Letter from Mom

Dear Middle Child

Today I unexpectedly ended up with time alone with my middle child, a daughter between two sons. I knew based on a recent family therapy session that she had feelings of being somehow left out, just outside whatever is going on in the house, a sense of being unnoticed. It struck me as so odd at the time that she would feel that way because, from my perspective, she seems to always insert herself in the middle of everything going on. I didn’t fully understand she did this in an effort to remain always included. I wrote this letter to her in my head, and I hope, at just the right moments, to be able to convey some of these things delicately to her with my heart over the holiday season when we have more time together. If you are or have (a) middle child(ren) in your home, I hope you find something in this that speaks to your situation as well.

————————–

Dear Middle Child:

First, let me start off by saying that Mom was not the middle child. I was the youngest. Dad was the middle child, just like you, although in his case: a son between two daughters.

It must be a challenge somedays figuring out who you are.

Are you mature enough to get the same benefits and responsibilities as your older brother? To have an iPod Touch when he does? To know grown-up stuff that he does?

Or are you still wanting to grab your childhood and be young like your little brother?

I imagine that walking through each day uncertain which role you want must be confusing, complicated, and frustrating at times.

Some days, you may not be sure how Dad and I view you.

Or you may want to change it up now and again, and we’re slow on the uptake, not realizing which one you are in that particular moment.

When your little brother is in the room, you like to feel older, sharing a bond of knowledge and growing up with the one above you in age.

When your older brother comes into the room, you perhaps feel awkward caught playing with the little guy when you want to be esteemed as mature by the oldest.

But then I catch you closing the door and entering into the delightful world of imagination playing in your room with the little one. You don’t really want us to know, but

  • You still want to be a child
  • You ache to be as free as the youngest
  • You long for days when playing didn’t require shutting the door to avoid being caught in Play World

What you don’t know is that I’m in no rush for you to grow up, and that when you are in Play World, I get to see how much you have kept sweet, innocent, and free. And the oldest doesn’t fault you for it either. He doesn’t hold it against you or find you less mature. He misses Play World, and while he’d never maybe say it to you—or me—he envies you still getting to be in there.

I also see you walk a balance of wanting to mother and nurture the one below you in age but receive that same safety and protection from the one above you. You do both beautifully, but I can see where you aren’t ever completely sure which one you are: Nurturer or Protected.

I want to tell you, sweet girl, that you are both. Always. Because God put you in the birth order right where He wanted you. And the best part is: You don’t have to choose.

I love when you share a more mature conversation with your teenage brother before the little one comes home. Sometimes, you feel stuck there and get a little haughty about how big you are; you might even get a little disgusted when the little one doesn’t know something yet that you do. You might feel impatient with him. You might wish he’d catch up.

But if he caught up, you couldn’t enter Play World now and again. You couldn’t experience those caretaker moments that you do when Little Man looks up to you, and you get to be Big Sis.

I see when I have a private talk with the oldest child, how much you desperately want to be included, or likewise, when I lavish some attention on Little Man because he’s still a younger kid, you struggle to find the fairness. You often want to keep things even, because, unlike the rest of us, you are the very middle of the kids, and you feel you have a good view of both angles. So you tend to be hypervigilant about making sure things are fair—to the point you sometimes feel you need to play “parent.”

I know you often seem to think there are conversations going on around you that you aren’t a part of. And yet, what you don’t realize is how much we take your input, we hear you advocate for a brother, we listen to what you have to say.

But it’s hard, because when you are the middle of the sibling sandwich, the bread on either side seems to get more attention: The one going first is our practice round, and the one going last has greater dependence at his age. But you don’t see yourself as the peanut butter in-between bringing the bread slices closer together. And that’s exactly what you do. It’s amazing to watch.

I see you playing tug-of-war with yourself over which child to align yourself with, and I can appreciate that fine balance and the daily struggle, My Love. But I want you to know that you get to be the middle of the sandwich, and with that, comes as much blessing as aggravation—as much extra love as feeling a bit unsure at times. You may feel like you are on the sidelines while the action goes on in the different ends around you, but to us, you are critically needed and loved because you bring balance and input that nobody else here can offer.

So, my sweet, middle child with your sense of justice and keeping track, Mom wants you to try to rest, relax, and look for where your role is so vital, so important, so blessed. You touch our family deeply with your ability to play both roles. We love both your childhood and your growing up! We love keeping you free of the worries of the older one a little bit longer but also being able to hand you more responsibility and mature conversations. We love when you delight the youngest with the Play Sparkle you still have inside you when you need it.

Rest, my child, in who you are. And if you can do this, you will be so incredibly gifted in social navigation and dynamics because you walk the balance every day of your life and know so much about how to relate to different ages and different personalities.

Trust your dad and me to keep things fair. And play in your room still—as much as you can! Freely love on Little Man. And let your older brother take you under his arm and teach, guide, and protect you. As you give as teacher to the one below you, freely receive from the one above. You can do both things well.

You don’t have to patrol or be on guard. You truly aren’t missing anything. If anything, you get a double dip into family dynamics and sibling relationships. You have insight we all can learn from.

We learn so much from our sweet “middle.” You are absolutely needed and very deeply loved.

With love forever,
Mom xoxo

*More anecdotal stories about faith, family, and relationships can be found in Not Just on Sundays: Seeking God’s Purpose in Each New Day (includes Book Club Discussion Questions).

**This post has been shared with Mom 2 Mom Monday Link-UpMake a Difference Mondays, Pick Your Pin TuesdayBreakthru LinkupGrace & Truth, A Little R & RDance With Jesus, Faith-Filled Fridays, Saturday Soirée Blog Partyand Christian Mommy Blogger.

 
11 Comments

Posted by on November 15, 2014 in Teens, Tweens/Children

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

The Pirate Who Saves Good People

1937194_1242255059135_4015233_n

My husband Salad Boy and I were both at my youngest son’s pediatric appointment today. We were there for a med check, but we were also there to discuss bringing yet another specialist into the already large group of professional hands tending to his care. While there, we got to fill out a Vanderbilt form and ask about an insurance-imposed change on some asthma management medication. Oh my, what we parents can squeeze into our 15 minutes with the pediatrician!

While there, this lovely man, who has seen us through eight years of all kinds of things, reminded Little Man how he used to refer to himself not by name, but as: “The Pirate Who Saves Good People.

We pretty much revisit this little memory every time we see this doctor. He continues to tell us each time how much it struck him that a then-three year old would define himself that way.

Today, it struck me afresh as well. I thought about it the entire two-laned, windy, 30-minute ride home.

At eight years of age now, Little Man may have rolled his eyes at that past reference, but inside, I saw a twinkle of something familiar, something beckoning forth a younger time. I saw him remember, and that was a beautiful thing.

I am going to take a minute to bless that. To consider it a dream inside his heart that may take slightly different shape over the years. But I believe it’s a tiny glimpse of how he sees himself.

I remember the fascination with pirates. We had just left residence on Kwajalein Island, Kwajalein Atoll, Republic of the Marshall Islands, when he started to find the world of pirates so interesting. At the time, I didn’t make the direct connection to seaside life. But I think he was hanging onto something by wanting to fill his fantasy world with eye-patched, peg-legged, scruffy-bearded characters. I have to admit that I indulged this. I bought pirate wall border, sheets, and a matching throw rug. I bought every Playmobil and Imaginext pirate toy I could find. He loved the role play, and he really got into character. I’m pretty sure preschool teachers continue to remember this. When asked his name in the grocery store, he would reply with his name and, without skipping a beat, quickly add that he was The Pirate Who Saves Good People.

Now I know he was holding onto a little piece of the island that he mourned, because looking back, that was one of his depressive episodes. He used to come home from preschool right after our move to the States and lay his head on my lap and weep. I thought he was just adjusting, but five months went by like that. Five months watching a curly redhead sob for his old home.

So, if pirates were a world he could get lost in, I was all for it. When we’re three years old and we grieve, Mommas indulge a little imagination to soothe the loss.

But getting back to his title…what a great identity to take on! It was an early indication of his thoughts about himself, and I want to go back to that place for a minute—because in that place is an innocent heart who wants to protect good people, who sees himself as a warrior, who feels like he has something to offer, who has a role he wants to play.

And I won’t be at all surprised one day if whatever he ends up doing in life goes back to that early theme of protection, empathy, justice, safety, and rescue.

My point is this:

Where can we go back to that simple childhood role-play and see what surfaced early on that matches the dream God has put into our hearts?

Where can we bless it?

What about our kids?

Or people we know who seem a bit lost at the moment?

How can we look for traces of where a holy God was whispering dreams into our hearts before we even knew how to recognize it?

I think we get a little tossed about in life, a little seasick now and again. We get jumbled on the ride from there to here and here to there, and we forget how simple those early moments were when innocence was all we had, and we were free to hear what God was telling us about ourselves.

I want to listen more again. I want to climb up onto the lap of Jesus. I want to remember those early dreams and redirect my sails.

In some ways, I think He wants us all to be Pirates Who Save Good People, although that may look differently according to how it’s lived out.

Ephesians 2:10, Apostle Paul speaking, ESV
For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

But He will honor us coming to Him as purely and trusting as a child because He promises this.

Matthew 18:1-6, Apostle Matthew narrating, ESV
At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”
And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea.”

Mark 9:36-37, Apostle John-Mark narrating, ESV
And he [Jesus] took a child and put him in the midst of them, and taking him in his arms, he said to them,“Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.”

Matthew 19:13-15, Apostle Matthew narrating, ESV
Then children were brought to him that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples rebuked the people, but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” And he laid his hands on them and went away.

—————————————–

A great book for trying to identify the dream God has given us is The Dream Giver: Following Your God-Given Destiny by Bruce Wilkinson. A sweet friend gave this to me as I was rounding out the edges of finally becoming an author. It’s an easy read and sweet story to help us go back to the place where He first put the dream into our hearts.

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,