2 Corinthians 6

 If 2 Corinthians 6 isn't the list of expectations we have for Christian living (notice "happy and blessed" isn't stitched on this pillow), we will be frustrated in our Christ-following, thinking "this isn't what I signed up for" or "this isn't fair."

Now IS the day of salvation, and this IS what we have committed to as servants of God, both the suffering and the reward:

by great endurance

in afflictions

in hardships

in calamities

in beatings

in imporisonments

in riots

in labors

in sleepless nights

in hunger

by purity

by knowledge

by patience

by kindness

by the Holy Spirit

by genuine love

by truthful speech

by the power of God

with the weapons of righteousness

through honor and dishonor

through slander and praise

treated as impostors, yet are true

treated as unknown, yet well known

treated as dying, and yet we live

treated as punished, and yet not killed

treated as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing

treated as poor, yet making many rich

treated as having nothing, yet possessing everything

training

Matt got himself a Whippet puppy for Christmas, and again and again I find myself watching the long-legged little sponge and thinking, "You may not think you're training him right now, but we are. Everything we do with him and around him IS training him...just maybe not the way we would have wanted!"

One scrap of table food, and Miika at the table every meal. One morning letting him out of his crate extra early because he's whining, and the next morning he's whining earlier still. One whack from a cat, and he bows his head and puts his tail between his legs when one enters the room. 

Intentional or not, the way we wanted to or not, we are training him.

EXACTLY, the Lord reminds me. 

My attitude about doing the dishes or cleaning up vomit or with Matt...the children are observing and are learning something, whether I realize it or meant to or not. The way I talk about others. The way I talk about those who have hurt me. The way I regard the neighbor kids, the monotonous tasks, the weary days, the way I act when I'm sick. My kids and the many kids who trail them are being trained by waking up to mama at her desk reading her Bible, or by mama speaking poison when she's mad. How I respond when someone is fraudulently wracking up amazon charges, when someone from church is sick, when there are people or children who need help, how Matt and I love each other well or don't, even down to my very attitude. How I spend my down minutes, how we spend our money, how we give and how we take, what movies they see me watching, how they see me respond to the news.

Everything we do and say is teaching someone something....what a beautiful and heavy responsibility. 

The only way to do this well, I'm convinced, is with His mighty help and being as completely and totally saturated in Him as possible, so that what is rolling off to those around us is Jesus, Jesus.  

If what we're sharing with others is simply what God is sharing with us....what a gift we radiate.  If we harbor certain unforgivenesses or bitternesses, if we allow certain habits or less-than-holinesses, if we leave alone the things God has asked us to address...our children are learning them. What do they miss, these ones? 

Oh Lord, fill the gaps by your mighty Grace, and help us as we disciple those around us. 

in His hands

We had a sweet and large group of girls here last night for Lily's 16th birthday party, and this morning over sausage gravy and biscuits, one of them said, "This was a really strange and hard year. The Lord has been good. But...I'm so ready to start a new one."

I amen'd her over a bottomless pile of dishes. It HAS been a really strange and hard year. And the Lord has been so faithful, every single step of the way. And I'm so ready to start a new one! I love He gives us NEW so often. New mornings, new weeks. New months, new years, new seasons. He is so constant, and making all thing new...another one of those paradoxes of the faith that I cherish. 

Matt and Ben hung together last night with 15 girls, and I can.not.believe. our Lily girl is about to be 16. That's something other people's kids do, not mine! It all just goes faster and faster the older they get, and I can't believe she is all the 16 things. And she IS. The Lord's got good plans for this girl, His power being trusted for her weaknesses, and lots of glimpses of His goodness throughout even the hardest of teenage days. 

This is what Oswald Chambers tells me every December 31st, and I'm clinging to the simple truth again:

The Lord will go before you this new year. What a gracious revelation—that God will send His forces out where we have failed to do so! He will keep watch so that we will not be tripped up by the same failures, as would undoubtedly happen if He were not our rear guard. God’s hand reaches even back to the past, settling all the claims against our conscience. 

As we go forth into the coming year, let it not be in haste. Let us go out with the patient power of knowing that the God of Israel will go before us. Our yesterdays hold broken and irreversible things for us. We have lost opportunities that will never return, true. But God can transform this destructive anxiety into a constructive thoughtfulness for the future. 

Let the past rest, but let it rest in the sweet embrace of Jesus. Leave the broken, irreversible past in His hands, and step out into the invisible future with Him.

 

Jesus, not quite the same.

https://mshaiti.blogspot.com/2021/12/baby-jesus.html

I wrote that post a few years ago at Christmas, the Christmas Dad was diagnosed with angiosarcoma. The Christmas before, our first in America, had been incredibly hard and lonely and foreign. But that Christmas, the phone call Christmas, that was HEAVY. The next Christmas, dad was suffering on his death bed, heavier still. I could hardly breathe. There was nothing I could do to stop what was happening. Then last Christmas, Matt stepped away from WBS, and everything left felt crumbled to ash heap. It was all I could do to get through each hour of each day, mostly for 7 kiddos.

Looking at my half-nativity set that first dark Christmas, I wrote and lived and relived again and again...

I don't know where Jesus is, or where the angels went.  I've just got shepherds on the piano, staring upwards.  

If we're on this road again, I guess that He is, too.

We'll have to find Him along the way. 

This week, a dear Wellspring friend popped into our chaos of Matt's parents, their two dogs, seven kiddos, a new puppy and Christmas. She gave me a little box, noting disappointedly that it was not the same, but close.

Inside, after all these years of mama's piano bearing only shepherds and wise men, was Mary. Joseph. Little Jesus.

After all these years, the shepherds are finally looking down at the faithful family. Finally, the wise men extend their gifts to the Holy Little One. She gave me Jesus. 

They're not quite the same, Melinda said again, apologetically. Not quite the same. And she's right. 

It's NOT the same. Much has been changed and been lost since those original pieces were. 

It was mama's Jesus, gone 20 years. It was dad who gave me what was left. It was a different person, the Stacey who loved and traced them each Christmas, the little brown and golden halo'd Jesus, peaceful Mary, vigilant Joseph.

Our piano finally has Jesus come, and He is, as noted, not quite the same.

Or at least not quite the same as I had thought.

It's not that Jesus has changed. I was just in a big long line of those who were wrong about Him.

Following Him has been far more painful than I had planned as a child. Seeking Him far more heavy and dark than that little orange bulb star once shining down on ceramic Jesus had me thinking it would be. 

For the last several years, I haven't been quite sure where Jesus is in all this mess. I thought He was Silent Night and warm and fuzzy and calm and peaceful. I thought He'd protect me from all the broken and bless my socks off always if I loved Him. I thought my faithfulness would merit more things going my way.  I thought our brothers and sisters in Haiti would find food with their hope, would find governmental peace for their faithfulness. I thought maybe He was genie-Jesus or enough-through-my-parents Jesus or maybe American-work-hard-it-works-out Jesus. 

The road has been far more narrow than advertised (except by His Truth).  The cross has been far more heavy than expected (except I remember now it was heavy for Him.) The Jesus I've been following has led me far more often down His road of crosses than of crowns, He has asked me to identify with Him far more in struggle and pain and death and resurrection than in gold and frankincense. 

Frankly, I have not always seen Him.

But this year, not-quite-the-same-as-I-thought-Jesus on my piano reminds me with tears that He. has. always. been. there. He has always come.

He hasn't always been quite who I thought. He hasn't often done what I wanted. Almost everything in my life I very much so counted on--aside from Chris--has been lost with the original manger scene.

But I HAVE found Him along the way. The True One has always been and has not changed, Jesus drawn near more real than He ever was. 

He's been tested and true and found faithful. More and different than I ever thought.

If you're not seeing Him this Christmas, keep your eyes open, friends, keep the space, watch the gap. Keep your eyes up to the dark skies and breathe. If all your expectations have been dashed, be expectant of Jesus instead. 

It's His breath in our very lungs and until you see Him...He's right here. Stop looking for the Jesus you wanted Him to be, the Jesus you thought, maybe.  The Jesus you were hoping maybe you deserved. Your family's Jesus. Your genie Jesus. Your "as long as" Jesus.

He may not be the same as you thought...but He's NOT changed. Always been right here. He's drawn close.

He is MORE than I thought...And He isn't finished. 

He moves

There is an expression used continually in Haiti that always rubbed me a bit. 

After any difficult situation was assessed or shared, everyone would shrug their hands and say, "Bondye Konnen", God knows. 

It was never meant to sound aloof, and the point of the statement is really: Don't forget that God sees this and He is not helpless, as we are.

But every time someone was comforted with, "Well, God knows!" it felt like not enough to me. Yeah, He knows....but does He care? He knows, but does He move? He knows, but does He GET it? Does He understand, painfully, intimately? He knows, but is He in the trenches with me and is He at work?

God's been reminding me lately....He is. 

Our God is not simply an all knowing one. He is not simply on the throne.

He doesn't just know. He is in the ash heap, with us. And He doesn't just want to be with us...He moves toward us. 

God's Christmas response to sin and brokenness and pain was He sent His own self, His Son, to us. For us. With us. 

I don't have to shrug my shoulders at the pain of our Haitian brothers and sisters today with a, "Well, God knows!" 

I don't have to shoulder my own silent, deep prayers with a "God knows, so carry on." 

He knows. And He sees. AND, He comes. He comes and helps. 

My Dad used to be a good image of this. Losing mom young, there were so many times I didn't need my dad to know I was struggling. I didn't need him to send a check or call to check.  I needed him to COME. I needed him to see. I needed him to help. And every chance he could, and sometimes when he really couldn't, he did.

Living in Mississippi without family with 5-7 kiddos. Living in
Haiti with so many daily struggles. Navigating motherhood without a mother. Navigating all your burdens, with all your gaps...with us, is GOD.

If you're wondering if He knows? That thing you've prayed about a dozen years? That pain that's currently taking your breath away? That anxiety that threatens to choke you out? 

He knows.

But if you also find yourself believing the lie that that is where He ends, here's your reminder.

He knows. And He cares. And He sees. And He understands. And He CAME. And He draws near...with mighty hands.

If it doesn't seem like it? Our seems is gloriously wrong. 

Keep on, friends. Call out, beloved. Breathe those prayers, and repeat those truths. 

He doesn't just know. 

Mighty God, all powerful, GOOD and making all things new...He draws near. God with us. 

God with us.

Best part of being a pastor's wife: My life the last year has become inundated with His Word, the good and faithful preaching of His Word, and opportunities for praying in His Word. 

Sundays, good preaching, sweet fellowship. Tuesday night small group, good hospitality, good community, good Bible teaching, good prayer time, transparency. Wednesday night Bible study, GOOD teaching, deep Word. Fellowship. Every week, without fail.  Add in devotions with the kids morning and night, and all the pop-up opportunities for prayer and fellowship and study, I'm just so THANKFUL for the richness of our work being His Word and Worship.

It is never too much. When I look at where I was a year ago and today...the growth that comes from digging.

One of the things that has been preaching to me most lately has been bedtime with the kids.  Beginning of summer, Ben, Nora and I started the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe series, a chapter a night, at bedtime. I wasn't sure how far they'd hang, and last night as we held our breaths through the last chapters of book seven, the Last Battle...OH MAN.

CS Lewis lays out his interpretation of the Biblical explanations of the last days, and we were longing for heaven so bad by the time we finished last night there were tears in all our eyes to still be bedroom bound.  They ran without ever getting weary, they swam without ever growing faint, they couldn't be afraid even when they tried, for there was NO fear.  All that had been blood, sweat, terror and tears was suddenly fresh, cool, free and FINISHED. 

They were met by their beloved ones from all of time, many of whom have become our beloveds! As we read through the names and descriptions of all they met in Aslan's country, Ben and Nora were calling out their friends from months past and clapping their hands over forgotten characters remembered. Further up, further in! the creatures and followers of Aslan cried as they poured into His presence, and everything became so much bigger, more REAL, and better than they ever could have imagined...each chapter better than the last, forever....Lewis finished.

No more tears, no more crying, no more pain, in His presence...painted by CS Lewis, was SO thrilling and SO achingly wonderful you could feel it in your jealous and hopeful soul. 

It was healing.

If we truly knew what our glorious forevers will be, we wouldn't mourn so. We always talk about how we do not mourn as those who have no hope...and that is true. But how much mourning still have I done, that if I trusted Him and heaven better could have been more like rejoicing.  I could trust Him better. 

All these extra opportunities in His Word help me...His Word strengthens our beings, doesn't it. 

Have I been as passionate about sharing and living and obeying His Word as I should be, if I truly believe it and truly trust Him? Have I held as loosely all that He's placed in my hands as I should if I trust it's His? Am I as abandoned as I would be if I truly walked in the promise that this life is but a drop in the bucket and eternity...heaven or hell, will be for all of forever? Is He my standard for faithfulness, for love, for serving, for pleasing, or are those around me? 

God with us. 

Until it shapes everything, I'm still doing the growth that comes from digging!

expectant

My favorite repeat Christmas devotional, "Emmanuel" by Ruth Chou Simons, hit the week focused  on expectations vs. expectancy, and this year and I can sense I've grown in my bones.  I am so much more interested in actually worshipping the long-awaited King this season over making a million bleary memories. I am so much more interested in being expectant of Him : truly the only one and thing that never disappoints, then stepping in with all my expectations of a vibrant and meaningful overwhelming season. I want the overwhelming thing to be Christ Came Down. Not 87 activities.  

Finding myself naturally so has surprised me. In the past it has taken much effort to focus the way I want to and to reign in my expectations. But the last two dark and weary Christmases, both of which I felt barely surviving and often focusing on simply breathing through, has me grateful for the warmth and peace of this one, and in awe of Who He Is, encapsulated with Christmas. 

Our sweetest Christmas activity so far was helping Lady Jane decorate. Sleeping on the couch one night with Ben by the tree. Watching "While You Were Sleeping" with Lily and Sofie for the first time.  Going to lunch with Beth. Wiping mustaches from dozens of cups of hot chocolate.  Wrapping presents with Emma (that was sweet, and utterly inefficient). Driving the party bus blaring Christmas Carols to church on Wednesday nights, picking up youth all along the way.  Playing Christmas hymns on the church's gorgeous baby grand piano when no one is there. Making all the soups and chilis and stews. Listening to Christmas hymns. Lighting the Advent candles. 

I am thankful that the One we are waiting for so badly is already here. 

He sees you--right in the midst of all your cares and concerns. He sees how you're torn, like Martha, between service and surrender, worry and worship.

He is inviting you to lay down the fretting and choose the good portion--to choose worship. It's the very invitation He came to earth to give. Do not mistake the busyness of DOING in this season for the fruitfulness of worship. Don't let the worry over HOW to celebrate the birth of Christ at Christmas eclipse the wonder of actually. worshipping. Jesus… the long-awaited Messiah.

not dark to Him

We had a wonderful and full Thanksgiving break...24 hours on the road, caving, horses, eating at the restaurant Matt worked at when we were dating and newly married, and sweet time with family in Ohio, especially reliving some of the traditions we always had with Dad. I mourn him best in his favorite places with his favorite people, and it was sweet to walk the caves and bridges we walked with him since I was a little girl. Those are my good tears, dad just up ahead. Anytime we are all together, you just kind of wait for him to walk in the room. At Old Man's Cave, I can almost still see mom and dad both up ahead, so unchanging are those stones. Having the cousins together is always so sweet...they adore one another. So thankful.

Sitting in Sunday school today the Lord brought this old memory to mind, and I found the story on our blog to refresh the details for myself.  As we spoke about the darkest nights in Sunday school, I remembered that even the darkness is not dark to Him...and the day that reminded me. 

 https://mshaiti.blogspot.com/2014/04/three-power.html

I will never know, this side of heaven, what grace has sustained me due to one of your prayers, due to one of you prayer warriors. Thank you. 

counting it all joy

 Oh, this has been the busiest week! 

With Thanksgiving break next week, this week has been FULL with our new church open house, a powerful testimony church lunch, admin and finance meetings for Matt, small group, Bible study, a huge Consecration Service Thursday night, trying to get ready for our first ever Sunday morning service as Wellspring Church, and to head to Ohio straight after with 5-7 kiddos! 

Whew!

The week began with precious time with Uncle Martin and Aunt Sharon. It was SUCH a gift to have them for each one of us. They are so intentional about getting good time with each of us, whether that means Martin wrestling with Ben (which quickly added Nora and Emma), taking Sofie on an eighth grade field trip to the Civil Rights Museum in Jackson, going to dinner with Matt and I and doing lots of projects around the house, taking Lily to her happy place (yes, it's shopping), fixing up bikes with Nora, reading "Grinch" to Emma a thousand times over, staying up 'till midnight...all the sweet family things. They worshipped with us our last Sunday at Foundry. They worshipped with us our last Sunday at our borrowed location at Wellspring. They came to the new church. They joined us, always, for Family Dinner on Monday night. 

I thanked them when they left for letting me pretend like they are our parents, like they are our grandparents, and all in, they do.  I always struggle when they go, and as I am with Foundry, I am trying to keep remembering these are God's good gifts, simply to be thankful for. Martin and Sharon are good gifts, to be sure, and have been since August 14th, 2007, the day we moved to Haiti!

The rest of this week has been as sweet as it has been busy....so much mercy and thankfulness in celebrating finally moving the church into our new home! 

This is a special church...not because of the building, because until now we haven't had one! There are just some very truly loving, kind, thoughtful and open-hearted people. It has been a GIFT being a part of the Wellspring family, and they love us well!  I have learned so much and have so much to learn.

Counting it all gifts, which is a beautiful way to head into Thanksgiving...

Immanuel

I didn't know what to expect this morning, our last morning at Foundry Church after almost four rich years. I would have worn no mascara had I been more prepared, for by the end I had rivers of tears pouring down my neck. 

How He does it, I'll never know. 

Mighty God, Lord of Heaven's Armies, King of the World, come down to meet us. 

He met me. 

All the loose ends. All the deep roots. All the gaps. All I knew I needed and all I didn't know 'till it was streaming down my face.

It started all in pain.

I love this church. I have so many memories. The Lord has met me here. I don't ever want to leave this church.

As the worship began, I sat in that dark room and traced the losses.

To my left front, always, four years, Steve and Julie. Years of priceless and powerful small groups, raising our kids together, youth groups, dinners, phones calls, valleys, valleys, walking alongside others together, blessings. Church has been Steve and Julie, left front. I look at them and see His faithfulness. 

Down front, there's T. Always Teresa, like the coffee she serves every Sunday, every Sunday, I have counted on Teresa. She will be there. She will be praising. She will be walking impossible roads with the choice of joy, again and again and again. From that very first Sunday, from that very first small group, Teresa is making you laugh, lying about t-shirts, and looking to Jesus.

I trace the chairs. That was the chair I last sat with Dad, my last Sunday morning with Dad. That was the altar where he and I prayed and cried together. Three rows back was the chair I sat next to Matt, the lowest few Sundays of our lives, where we sat many weeks we could not stand. And everyone stood around us, for us. 

Over there, that was the chair I prayed for this person, and that, the chair where God met her, where he was restored. 

That empty chair....that was the chair next to Hannah I sat behind Sunday after Sunday after Sunday and prayed over for the Lord to fill. I reached out my hand toward that chair and I prayed for a godly, kind, smart and hilarious man to fill it for weeks and months and years. I bawled my head off in the darkness the first Sunday he sat there, unexpected red curls tumbling down his back, and the joy of answered prayer all over my precious friend's face. 

I looked over to the left wing, where Veronica clings to Henry's arm, and remember when I would just pray for that single dad, never knowing I was also praying for a dear and inspiring friend and a fantastic mom for his girls. Veronica and Henry remind me that following Jesus should not only be sweat and tears and blood, but also joy and laughter and passion.

I look at the empty chairs of Erin and Laura and the other faithful women my children LOVE...who have cared for Emma since day one in the nursery, who have shepherded Ben and Nora through SO MUCH, who have lovingly and patiently and joyfully discipled them without ceasing. Empty chairs, for they are in the next room with MY beloved little ones, for me, in my place.

I sat this morning, thinking of and praying for all the men and women who have come and gone, Eddie and Lauren, Hannah our grace, for the chairs beautiful friends not there today who have been and done and seen Jesus.

I go in my mind to one last chair, Pastor Elijah's, and I know, no doubt, that all of the ways the Lord has met me, met us at Foundry were made possible because that man was faithful to start it. To be it. To lead it. To stand for truth. To preach the hard and mighty Word. To create a spirit of truth and love. To persevere, to persevere, to persevere, when there were little glories, and most often, without. Elijah's faithfulness to seek and be faithful to the Lord, as Foundry's Shepherd, have made all the ways the Lord has met me, and hundreds, perhaps thousands of people...possible. It inspires me for this season as we pastor! I pray again, as I always will until she takes it, for that empty chair next to him, for the Lord to fill it with His good and perfect gift. 

I looked around this morning and counted my losses, mourning. 

As I cried, He tuned my ear back to the world around me, where the lyrics were being boldly sung: 

You deserve the praise
Worthy is Your name

It snapped me out of my graveyard attitude of despair and loss and transported me, immediately, to His throne room. Unexpectedly my hand flew to my mouth, unclean lips, for as I was murmuring through all the losses, are these not all My gifts? He asked. 

All these things I just circled, are they not all His gifts? 

Am I not rich? 

Has He not been good? 

Will He not still be?

He Deserves the Praise. 

Worthy Is His Name.

Sharon and Martin, my family, they sit beside me....Is that not the Lord and His goodness, sending me from afar family, at just the right Sunday, alongside? They worshipped next to me in Haiti, they worshipped next to me this morning at Foundry, they will worship next to me tonight at Wellspring, He has used them in the mighty gap left by my parents again and again and again and here they SAT this morning in those chairs. Who could have DONE that? I did not plan that, and they did not know. 

Are these Not all His Good Gifts?

hush, child. He deserves PRAISE.

Elijah gets up to lead us in prayer as I hold my breath in that sacred and loving chiding from the Lord, and my tears pour again as he leads us in a prayer I can honestly say I have NEVER been led in in a church in my life.

He asked us to bring another church, not Foundry, to mind, and he lead us in praying for that church to shine His light, for that church to have unity and joy and refreshing and faithfulness to sow many seeds for His kingdom. He lead us in praying blessing for that church in our hearts, and here I am, last Sunday at Foundry as I joyfully and fully and finally transition to Wellspring, and the Lord leads Elijah to corporately lead US in PRAYING for other churches. 

The Lord used my Foundry family to pray for my Wellspring family, used my Foundry family to pray without denomination, without comparison or jealously, for His Church....used Elijah to remind me that neither His Church nor His Faithfulness changes. As I have worked together with these brothers and sisters for His Kingdom Come...I continue. We carry on. We carry on together.

The service is closing, and I have the sacred privilege one last time to stand at the altar and pray over anyone who comes. 

I have cried such a steady hour I am parched, and as I stand there waiting for the last worship song to begin and for His church to come for prayer, the worship team begins to play Gratitude. Haven't played it in months and months.

If you haven't been here in Staey's mind and heart long, that song: Otis on the guitar in Steve and Julie's living room, was the gift of praise the Lord gave me in the hours of my darkest, dark nights of the soul. On repeat, those words many days kept me breathing in, breathing out, clinging to Him, choking out praise...

so I throw up my hands and praise you again and again, 

cause all that I have is a hallelujah, and I know it's not much

but I've nothing else fit for a king

just a heart singing Hallelujah

My last service. My last song. My last prayer at the Foundry altar. My thirsty soul.

Wasn't that the song they sang?

I couldn't stop laughing. 

The raccoon eyed woman at the altar this morning, laughing, that was me. 

When we came from Haiti, battered and weary, the Lord led us to Foundry, not because it was comfortable, but because God absolutely made it clear to us both that it was where He was calling us.

I like to think about how He calls us to use us. 

But He also calls us to LOVE US.

And He has LOVED me and was Faithful through the death of my mom, and dad. He has loved me and been faithful through Haiti. He was Faithful and loving through Wesley and He has been Faithful through Foundry. And already He is loving me and being faithful through Wellspring!

Like the day I first came, I left that beloved building today with nothing fit for our King but praise. 

And I will praise Him, again and again, because HE, beloved, is all that there is.

He was the only thing of worth in Haiti and of worth now. He is the only One who has not fallen short, who has not disappointed, who has not changed. He is all that there is, and all that there will be, and He SEES US.

Dear ones, He sees us. And THEN He COMES.  Immanuel, He CAME. And He Comes. He came today. 

He is the only thing worth having, the only thing worth holding onto when all else is stripped away, He is the only place to lay our heads, the only good and faithful one, the only place to lay our praise and trust that will not disappoint and will not fail.

In His unfathomable love, we can HAVE Him, God come. 

Our praise? It's not much.

But it miraculously fit for our King! 

In this, another one of life's transitions from His Faithfulness to His Faithfulness, I praise Him!