On Becoming Truer

“Hey, Daddy, I wrote this book for you.” – my daughter Callie

And here it is…in full.

“Jesus” – Written and illustrated by Callie Mashburn.

Published by the Callie Company.

Isn’t this sort of what all of us need to do? Own and retell the story of Jesus in our own words? “Illustrate” it ourselves with our own colorful stories and perspectives? And “publish” it by living it out in our own lives?

I guess we could tear up the detailed inaccuracies between Callie’s book and The Book (like the fact that in the Bible Joseph doesn’t seem to be around when the crucifixion of Jesus took place, even though Callie describes he and Mary being “so sad” when Jesus died), or get caught up correcting the bad grammar or misspelled words (“sall”=saw), or point out that an actual picture of the cross of Jesus would be a tad more gruesome that Callie’s drawing. But, oh, how we would miss the point of it all, eh? Oh, how we would miss the heart. And we would be frozen stiff, afraid to to tell the unbelievable story of Jesus because we might “get it wrong” or “not be good enough.”

I pray that Callie never stops telling the story.

Eventually, of course, I want the title of her book to be “Callie” – Written and illustrated by Jesus.

What a sweet book that is, and Jesus is writing it right before my eyes. And what a sweet book Callie has written and gifted to me.

It’s not for sale. But here is your reminder that these are. Auctions close on Sunday and Monday nights. If you have any interest in them (or in supporting the Mashburn family’s takin’-care-of-business fund), be sure to bid in these by then.

On a side note (but probably worthy of it’s own blog piece based on several conversations I’ve had this week), it was a little sad to me that Callie ended her book with the observation that back in Jesus’ time, “every day people would go to the cross and worship Jesus,” but “these days, we worship Jesus by going to church and singing about Jesus.”

If she is right, and that is the extent of how we worship “these days”, we need to get back to how they did it back then: both in frequency and focus.

…I was a part of an experience that left a mark.

It was an experience with death. But it was much more than that. It was also and experience with love. And with family. It was pain and comfort at the same time. Laughter and tears. Immense, unbearable, and crushing sorrow (for a wife, a daughter, a son, among others), but also powerful, relieving, load-lighting gratitude (for the husband and dad, who was suffering constant pain).

It was the day that my friend Rick Owens took his last breath.

It ended a long journey against life-stealing disease, but it was life-giving disease, too. While his body was dying, his spirit leapt to life with the clarity and love for God and others that only comes to those who have an awareness of how brief life is.

Most of us don’t. But Rick did. And being with him in those last months and weeks and days left a mark. A mark that I hope I don’t soon forget.

I spoke about much of this at his funeral. You can listen to it here.

  (Non-flash audio link)

Rick…I love and miss you. I hugged your wife and son last night, and will pray for them and your beautiful daughter all day today. Thank you for how you handled death. Thank you for how you handled life while it was yours. But thank you especially for how you handled death.

And thank you for knowing and loving Christ. We all look forward to life without end together.

“Why does the TAKS test have to be on March 3rd?” – Shade Canon Mashburn, my son

It may seem a random question to you, and I didn’t have an educated answer. But I know it matters to him because March 3rd is Shade’s birthday. And today, on his 10th, he’s not thrilled that he has to spend about 8 hours of it on a test. All I could say was “I guess it has to be on someone’s birthday, buddy.”

He asked this past Monday, and you have to know that Shade takes the TAKS test really seriously (he didn’t get that from me, I can assure you). So I guess as a way of uplifting his spirits, he asked if we could sit down and make some decorations for him to put around the house for his birthday. So I took some pipe cleaners and a piece of paper, Callie took some popsicle sticks, paper and glue, and Shade himself took an old wrapping paper tube, some pipe cleaners and some tape and we created and then spread these around the dining room. 

Well buddy, I hope this self-medication did it’s magic and lifted your spirits this morning as you passed them and went out the door for school!

Last night as I prayed with Shade before bed, I sort of got lost in reflection about the last 10 years of my life. Now, I’ve got a pretty decent imagination most of the time, but I could not imagine the last 10 years without this fun, passionate, sincere, energetic, ready-to-go, thoughtful, power-packed fireball of a kid in my life! And knowing him, who would want to?

I prayed and thanked God for the whole decade that I have had with this guy. He has been a source of joy, challenge, adventure, sacrifice, selflessness, introspection, transformation, and love in my life. I will never be the same. Because of him, I don’t know how to explain it really, but I am much more real.

Here’s an iPhone photo of he and I in Lubbock trying to look tough.

Here’s how we look when we are being real.

Happy Birthday, Shade. Here’s to the life-long journey of becoming much more real.

I love you.

Many of you may not know that I’m an amateur collector of old books. I’m not sure why. There is something about having an old copy of something that had it’s place in history, that still contains the message that it contained then, sitting on my shelf. The ancient wisdom, the ages-past perspective, and my thoughts of who’s eyes and minds were stimulated by these very books gets my romantic imagination going. I particularly have a fondness of spiritual writings, and find that many contain truths that are timeless.

For example, I have 20 volumes of commentary by a guy named James Hastings. They were published between 1911 and 1915. They are called “The Great Texts of the Bible” and contain some amazing and unique articles, analogies, histories and perspectives on some of the epic texts that leap off the page of your Bible. I’ll sometimes be stuck on some passage and wander over to this Hastings guy to see if it was a text that he thought was “great”. If it was, I read him, and I never leave his feet disappointed.

I found these in a garage sale in Houston.

Okay…so enough about my like for old books (I wouldn’t say love…I’ve met folks who love them. They would laugh at me if I said I loved them).

On eBay, I’m auctioning some of my old books to pay off some new debts. Some of you may be interested or might know someone who is…

• 1905 Sabbath Readings for the Home
• 1868 Prayers of the Holy – a German prayer and devotion book owned by someone who is someone in Germany
• 1906, 1907, 1908 Select Notes on the International SS Lessons – set of 3, owned by a confederate soldier in AR
• Poems and Ballads by Rudyard Kipling – old, but undated
• 1922 Comprehensive Analysis of the Bible
• An 1883 Bible made in the USA
• 1917 Scofield Reference Bible
• And last, but certainly not least (and depending on how much I get, probably not even last)…a 1948 copy of The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

The first 4 auctions end on Sunday night between 8:30-8-50.

The last 4 end on Monday night 7:30-7:50.

I’ll be posting at least two more in the near future, maybe more. Thanks in advance for bidding, or forwarding this on to folks you think might be interested.

“Jesus looked at him and loved him.” – Mark 10:21

This little phrase captures what I am trying to become.

I want the love that naturally welled up in Jesus when he looked at this young man to be what happens in me when I look at anyone. And I want this to be as observable in me as it apparently was for Jesus by Mark (or Peter, who some think was behind the writing of Mark). And I want this to happen no matter my disposition, condition, or mood. I want it to happen no matter my previous experiences, either with the the person I’m looking at or with others that they remind me of.

Let it be said that whenever I with anyone that “Brian looked at him and loved him.”

I know I’m asking a lot.

I think a lot about becoming like Christ. The idea dominates most of my waking hours.  It’s the goal of my life. It’s the joy of my life. It is the guide of my life, the call of my life, and I might even say it (or more accurately, he) is the source of my life.

There are some who believe it is also the curse of my life.

Think about it…Who can attain to this? How unrealistic is it? How often must I experience failure with such a  high standard?

And when do you get a break from this work? At what moment of which day is there a time when you can “switch off” the work of being like Christ? When I’m with my closest friends? With my wife? With my kids? Alone with God?

I confess I’ve done all those. I’ve “given myself permission” to “be honest about how I feel towards someone” or “about something” and let it all hang out there. There is something liberating about it, to be sure. To have a safe place in which I can show my ugly, offended, small, vengeful, angry, “I-have-rights-and-I-deserve-to-have-them” self. I’ll tell you that on the days that I feel the need to do that, it always turns out best to do it with God. My kids should never have to handle that. My wife can sometimes, but that is understandably confusing for her. I have some friends that have an easier time handling it, mostly because they can go home and don’t have to live with me. So, of all of those options, God seems to be the one that can handle me best, as He remains unchanged and unfazed by my raw, fragmented, unperfected self.

Which, as it turns out, is exactly what I’m needing in those moments. Someone who’s love is unchanged when I am at my worst.

Which, as it turns out, is exactly what I want to be for others…someone who’s love is unchanged when they are their their worst.

And at the end of the day, and whether I realize it at the moment or not, “switching off” from being this doesn’t heal me, and my perceived need to do so has surfaced as an illusion. Taking a vacation from this work of being like Christ (which isn’t really work, but choice) is no vacation at all. It just creates more work (which really is work), and of the self-defeating variety.

Write this down: It is always self-defeating to handle something or someone unlike Christ. Or said another way, maybe better…it is always self-defeating for me to look at anyone and not love them.

So, after plenty of experimentation, witnesses and observers of how I live need to realize that the curse of my life is no curse at all. Since grace abounds in my failures, I need not dwell on or feel guilt about it when I fail to surrender to the spirit of Christ within me. And most encouraging is the fact that I don’t even need to believe that living like Christ is unattainable (1 Jn 2:1 captures both of these trusths).  

And even if following Christ in how he lived and looked and loved was impossible, and even if I was confused and or despairing about it, and even I suffer in my feeble attempts to do so, and even if I bought in to the illusion that I need a break from it…shoot, even if Jesus himself looked at me noticing my extreme difficulty and, desiring to give me an easy out, asked “Do you want to leave?”… I would still stay, answering the way Peter did… “Lord, to whom shall [I] go? You have the words of eternal life. [I] believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” (Jn 6:68)

He has it all…

Peace that passes understanding.

The full measure of joy.

Love without condition.

Abounding grace.

Life without end.

I got this email today from a friend. And while this kind of note or phone call is common for me, today I’m just in a space where it triggered some deep emotion.

Brian: [I have met] a young man that you might be able to connect with. He’s really adrift and feeling pretty worthless. His dad is in prison (don’t know for what) and he is terribly afraid of disappointing his grandfather. He doesn’t seem to have a strong connection to his mom. I thought if maybe you could find the time to just come and have a coke with him, you might be able to connect with him. He apparently goes to (or has in the past) church, but he’s really struggling with his faith along with everything else. Let me know what you think – he sounded like he would be willing to talk to you if you would be willing. Thanks.

If you got this email from your friend, what would you do?

There are not many circumstances that I can say this about, but for this one, I can say that I know exactly what I will do.

I’ve already emailed my friend back to tell her I’m willing and asked her for the best way for he and I to connect.

I’ve already prayed for this guy. And not so much that all of his problems will disappear, but for me to start seeing and feeling him as a real human being…to have an openness to accept him as a brother or possibly as a son. This is so I won’t treat him like a some kind of “project” or as an inconvenience to my routine or as a problem to be fixed or as an issue to pass on to someone or something else. I’ll have to return to this prayer constantly, and I will.

I’ll then drive down there and buy him a coke and listen to him deeply and single-mindedly. Since you can’t really listen to someone while doing anything else (contrary to popular belief and practice), I’ll work hard to ignore the distractions of my phone, my thoughts, and my watch. I’ll have to do this work constantly, and I will.

Then, and I guarantee this, I will feel completely over-whelmed and over-my-head, baffled with questions of how to help him and what to do next. This happens every time, and I’ve come to expect it…even welcome it… for me, it’s always proof positive that I have followed God, and will need Him to be of any use. 

Even with this, I still know what I’ll do next. I will invite him to my basement on Tuesday nights at 8:30pm, and/or to my living room on Sunday evenings at 5:30 for him to get to know a whole bunch of us who have felt (or does feel) like him and are experimenting with how Christ can help us connect with God & each other in a way that heals, restores, and transforms.

That’s pretty much the extent of what I’ll do.

But here’s what will happen next: If and when he comes to either of these groups, he will be engaged personally, invited to share his story (and hear ours, if he is at first uncomfortable in sharing his, which you may surprised is rarely the case), and surrounded by support and love. Then, if and when he is willing, his name and phone number will be in about a dozen new people’s cell phones, and theirs in his. No matter how he has sinned, what his personality is like, what quirkiness he exhibits, he will be in the midst of people that love to work a little bit harder than most I know (Christian or not) to find this guy’s beauty and potential as a child of God. Inasmuch as this guy wants it, he will be accepted where he is at and challenged to take responsibility for moving towards the best possible life available to him…the life of Christ.

This is my life. It is a good, good life. And when I do this, I feel more like I’m being the church that Christ intended than I ever have.

And here’s the thing…for me to have the agility and ability to do that when the opportunity arises (which it does for everyone when you have eyes to see), I have to already have in place something else. A system.

I kinda hate the clunkiness of the word, but I need one, so I’m going with it.

I can do what I’m going to do because of a system that I already have in place that makes room for this guy in my life (or in my “church”). This system (which is, simply put, a couple of small groups that meet weekly for the purpose of taking off the mask and helping each other become more like Christ) is almost completely relationally based, demands involvement from anyone who would come, gets to matters of the heart quickly, and believes in everybody.

How many people in this city do you think generally fit the description that my friend has chosen to describe this guy?

• He’s “adrift”
• Struggling to feel worthy
• Spiritually fatherless
• Afraid of disappointing others
• Lacking strong connections with important people
• Has tried church and is left wanting
• Struggling with faith

And here’s the kicker, and the opportunity that I keep finding with almost everyone I meet “…he sounds like he would be willing to talk if I am willing to talk.”

And I am. This is my life. And I love it.

My day job consists of me trying to transition an incredibly loving and committed, but stereo-typical local church, from one system to another. A system that better makes room for this guy and addresses what my friend said he’s ready, willing, and open to addressing. A system that is more relationally based (like Christ), demands involvement from anyone who participates (like Christ), gets to matters of the heart quickly (like Christ), and believes in everybody (like Christ).

Simply said, I’m trying to transition this church into one that has a system that invites people to sit down over a coke and talk.

Our current system invites people to sit down, alright. “Sit down” in a big room with pews and listen to a preacher. “Sit down” in some smaller rooms and listen to a teacher. In some of the rooms, the teacher might even invite you to talk for a moment. Shoot, they may even hand out those cokes! But the likelihood that our current system will connect with you and talk…really talk… about your feelings of unworthiness, or fatherlessness, or fear of disappointing others, or in your faith struggle, or of your being “adrift” are quite slight, and would require a whole lot of initiative on your part.

Now…the message in the system we currently use is good. Jesus Christ has come to give us life, life to the full. Forgiveness is yours. Love is real. God is accessible. Purpose is available. Death is defeated. But the system being used to deliver that unchanging message needs to be changed.

I wish I could say that our current system was bad. Transitioning into a new, better system would be so much easier if our current system was just plain bad. But it’s not. It does some good. And further, in the past, when it was operating within the culture it was designed for, it has done some incredible good… including for some of the people who are currently within it. As a result, some have deep affection not just for Christ and his message, but for the system that was used to deliver them to Christ. This makes altering it very, very difficult. It’s human nature, really, not villainous. Just like we hang on to old high school letter jackets that don’t fit anymore because of the good that we associate with it, we hang on to our old church systems that don’t fit anymore because of the Good that we associate with it.

But the emails and the phone calls and the friends of friends of friends who are looking for life keep coming in. I will pass approximately 20-30 churches on the way to meet this guy over a coke, all of whom deliver the same message that I will deliver, but through systems that don’t work for him.

If we would just interpret the culture we live in as diligently as we attempt to interpret holy scripture, I believe we would find that he represents an ever-increasing number of our nation.

God help us.

Eowyn: “I fear neither death or pain.”

Aragorn: “What do you fear, my lady?”

Eowyn: “A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire.”

These words of Eowyn stir my soul. I, too, share her fear. Only my fear goes farther. I fear I’m already in a cage. I fear I’ve used them long enough that I’m beyond accepting them…I want them. I protect them. I fight for them. I fear that my chance for valor has already come and gone.

Not all the time. And certainly not intellectually. I “know” that my moment hasn’t past. Further, I know that my opportunity for valor is a daily choice, that it comes and goes constantly, and that in each and every moment lies my chance to be love or be less. To be courageous or be common. Manly or mediocre. I know this.

But sometimes. Like when I watch an epic like Lord of the Rings, see the life and death war going on so clearly, witness people clearly choose sides, and then watch different characters on the side of good argue and choose whether to be brave or cautious. Something in me, something deep, rushes to the surface. When I see Eowyn, even (maybe especially) when navigating unbelievable circumstances, any one of which would suffice in giving her an excuse to check out and merely survive (the unfair death of her cousin, the banishment of her brother, the loss of her uncle’s mind, the suffering of her people, her own injuries and limitations), without hesitation and with fire speak what it is she does and does not fear. Those times…when my soul is stirred…my secret fears rush to the surface.

And when they rush to the surface, and I choose dedication instead of denial, I admit that I fear that my fears are the opposite of Eowyns.

I fear that I fear death or pain (and pain more than death).

I fear that I do not fear a cage.

• That as long as I can feel like I chose it, I’ll call it freedom.
• That as long as it provides enough comfort, I’ll call it my calling.
• That as long as it affirms me enough that I’m making a meaningful difference, I’ll stick with it.
• That as long as it keeps telling me I’m courageous, I’ll pretend that I am.

I read one of his essays this morning in a moment of stillness, and in it Thomas a’ Kempis says, “Those who are great in love are truly great.”

Am I truly great? Am I great in love?

The answer is no. In the arena of love, I am a beginner. I am addicted to it, and I have spent my whole life attempting it, but I am still a novice.

When you consider the standard of love taught to me by my teacher, and modeled for me in dramatic fashion, I must admit that although it is the area that I have spent the most time on, I am can hardly consider myself competent in it. I rarely love like this.

Surprisingly, this encourages me, and emboldens me. It reconnects me to the clarity of the life and death battle of which I am in the midst, helps me see who has chosen good (abundant life) or bad (life in a cage), and helps me decide that, since I have such a long distance to go, I can give my all to it and never run out of work. I will never exhaust the riches that come from pursuing this life of ever-increasing love. It has been, is, and will be the adventure of my life. And just like Lord of the Rings, it is set in the most spectacular of settings, with the most interesting and colorful cast of characters, some of whom are (and all of whom have the potential to be) the most amazing people I have ever met! And I get to call some friends.

How great is it that these moments of opportunity, my moment to be all that I can be, will never run out, pass me by or escape me. Can anyone be too old, too weary, too slow, too spent, or too incompetent to give their life for a friend? I think not. Therefore, the highest greatness available to a human being is always upon us. The cage, no matter how long we have dwelled in it, no matter how accustomed we are too it, no matter how many agreements we have made, we can escape it. And live again.

Aragorn responded one more time to Eowyn in the above dialogue. He said, “You are a daughter of Kings. A shield-maiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate.”

I don’t know what you believe, but I have become convinced that I’m a child of a King. A warrior of Good. I do not think the cage will be my fate.

Yet humility demands that I admit that I fear it will be. And living with that fear is seeming okay to me, because I think the life I want demands that I accept it as a friend that reminds me to choose to not be. Which will sometimes mean choosing pain. Maybe even death.

This writing has landed me on this new revelation, yet it sounds so familiar. Ah, yes. The life of choosing pain and suffering already belongs to someone. He called for it long ago. And it seems he’s calling me to it again.

So once again…my heart’s deepest longing leaves me no choice. I want the courageous life. The good life. The life that costs everything. The life that makes a God-honest difference. I must follow Christ. 

Check this out. One of my blogs got published in New Wineskins, an eMagazine (Thanks, Keith, for including me in this issue!).

This issue is entitled “Restoration and Transformation” and while most of you have already read my post that is published there, there are several other excellent ones by other writers you might enjoy (including Edward Fudge whose website I linked to in my article).

I’m honored to be included (but I would’ve let my mom edit it for me if I new it would be published!)

“If we remain tightly enclosed within our system, it becomes an idol; but if we reject any system, we drown in the ocean of undefined chaos.” – Your Truly, adapted from a quote by Father Dumitru Staniloae

“Every creator (including ours, the Creator of everything) painfully experiences the chasm between his inner vision and its ultimate expression.  That’s what keeps art alive.” – Isaac Bashevis Singer

“If you are not producing the results you want, you need to realize that you are producing exactly what your system is designed to produce.” – Andy Stanley

“I have a dream.” – Martin Luther King

I have a dream, too.

I have a dream of a world where every single person in it is being lovingly and powerfully invited into life-giving, life-saving relationships. No one should be alone. No one should be without love. No one should be without God.

I’m striving to work out that dream in my little corner of the world by transitioning a very loving church who has the same dream out of a semi-decent system into a more productive and effective one.

What I’m doing here with my elders and this great group of people reminds me of what Jethro was doing with Moses and another great group of people. Let me add a couple of quotes here:

“What you are doing is not good.” – Jethro, to Moses, in Exodus 18, on the system he was using to lead the people of God

“Listen now to me and I will give you some advice, and may God be with you.” – Jethro, to Moses, before he suggested an entirely new system for leading the people of God

First let me say that what the group of Christians that I run with in Amarillo does is good. They love God and love each other with all of their hearts. They serve each other at the drop of a hat. They are thinkers, they are “feelers”, and they are doers. When issues are brought to their attention, someone mobilizes a few to do something productive and good about it. They love Jesus as the single most important obsession of their lives. They pray to connect with God, and they pray to move God on behalf of others. They count prayer as one of the best tools they have to serve people, but don’t hide behind it in order to justify non-involvement with those people. The number of meals being cooked by people here for others outside their own family would astound you. The number of kids and orphans and widows that will eat a meal today or have a place to sleep tonight in places like Zimbabwe and the Ukraine and the Philippines because of this group would humble you. The number of people all over Europe, Africa, South America and in prisons throughout the U.S. that will be guided towards Christ through the mail next week because of a rag-tag band of disciples who are right now in the office next to mine is mind boggling. The number of people in this city who have been and are currently surrounded by loving, caring, “I’ll-take-the-shirt-off-my-back” relational support is amazing.

What the group of Christians that I run with in Amarillo does is so good.

And contrary to what Jethro said, what Moses was doing in Exodus 18 was good, too. When Jethro questioned him about his activity, Moses explained that  “the people come to me to seek God’s will.” He showed Jethro the deep needs and conflicts and dilemma’s of the people, and how he spent his days pointing them to God, problem-solving, and peace-making.

That’s good, right? Of course it is.

Then why, pray tell, did Jethro say it wasn’t?

It was not what Moses was doing, but how he was doing it that Jethro was critiquing. See, Jethro was a “systems-thinker”. A seer, if you will. He could see beyond the good work being done, to the system being utilized to do it, and he saw that while the mission was good and right, the system was not. It left too many people frustrated and it left the leadership (Moses) burned out and tired. Keep it up, and either Moses would have quit on the people or the people would have quit on Moses.

So…wise Jethro offered a new system for Moses to try.

He said, “select capable men from all the people — men who fear God, trustworthy men who hate dishonest gain — and appoint them as officials over thousands, hundreds, fifties and tens. Have them serve as judges for the people at all times, but have them bring every difficult case to you; the simple cases they can decide themselves. That will make your load lighter, because they will share it with you. If you do this and God so commands, you will be able to stand the strain, and all these people will go home satisfied.”

This describes the conversation that the leadership at Southwest is having right now. We are attempting to become “systems-thinkers”. Seers, if you will. Like Moses, we have a mission that is good (to “make disciples of Christ through relationships”), but we are delivering that mission through an old system.

Mind you, we are doing it with some success, and it is exciting to see the fruit. It is, indeed, good.

But the “spirit of Jethro” has come upon us saying to us as a leadership what it said of Moses’ leadership, “What you are doing is not good.” And it’s not being critical of our mission, or trying to call all the good that is happening, bad. It’s trying to get us to look deeper…at our delivery system…and see if we can’t potentially deliver our mission better.

This has powerful applications in all areas of my life. My marriage, my work, my disciplines, my parenting…so many of the problems aren’t really the problems. It is the system that is underneath it.

I love systems because they will produce exactly what they are designed to produce. I hate systems because they can become a trap, and lure people into a stubborn commitment to them, making systems-work the hardest work in the world.

But it is the work of anyone who wants to change the world. And I do.

Shade is my oldest son.

Here he is as a young child, growing up in the midst of a community of people that regularly celebrated their decision to follow Christ.

And here he is today, doing it himself.

I’m glad to have (kinda) held it together.

I didn’t do so well during the sermon I preached afterwards when I told some of the stories of the powerful conversations I’ve had with Shade over the last year. The first half of this teaching is from the last few verses of the first chapter of 1 John, the second half is all the stories about Shade.

Thanks to all of you who have helped him know Jesus Christ as the loving, saving, life-giving savior and master that he is. And thanks in advance to any and all of you who will be instrumental in guiding, helping, and supporting Shade on his continuing journey into and with Christ.

I am eternally grateful.