Archive for October, 2020

30
Oct
20

Thanks, Mom

“If everyone else jumped off a cliff, would you jump off too???”

If I had a dollar for every time my mother spoke that phrase, I’d probably have… I don’t know… eleven or twelve dollars. 

This was her standard, go-to response when I offered a feeble attempt to justify some crowd-following behavior with my own canned phrase, “But mom! Everybody else is doing it!”

Like many other “momisms” of the day, (alongside “Clean your plate! There are children starving in China!” and, “If you keep making that face, it’s going to freeze that way!”) this one ultimately became a great source of humorous nostalgia between my siblings and me. 

To be sure, we loved our mother deeply. But as we got older, we also got a real kick out of remembering and chuckling at some of the well-worn phrases we heard growing up. 

I had occasion to remember this delightful chestnut just yesterday when Joan and I were out driving. Looking over, she noticed I was driving 48 mph in a 40-mph speed zone and gently urged me to “Slow down a little, please sweetie.” I instantly time-travelled back to the age of eight and replied, “But look… everybody else is driving this fast!” 

Say it with me now; “If everyone else jumped off a cliff, would you jump off too???”

HA! Good one, mom!

But then I stopped and pondered for a moment. Despite the fact that I’m sure all 7 billion of earth’s current inhabitants have heard some version of that phrase at least once in their lives, is it really fair to call this wisdom useless and outdated?

I mean, isn’t there something actually valuable being said here… despite the fact that it is cloaked in layer upon layer of triteness, overuse, and banality?

So, I stopped – mid-chuckle – and considered the possibility that my mom was not literally talking about cliff-jumping, but rather using an analogy (or is it a metaphor?) to illustrate an important life principle. 

  • MAYBE she was saying that I should think for myself. 
  • MAYBE she was suggesting that societal norms aren’t always a good North Star for all my decisions.
  • MAYBE she was encouraging me to have the courage to resist peer pressure… even when it might cost me acceptance and friendship.
  • And MAYBE she was saying something very close to the advice the Apostle Paul gave his merry little band of Christ-followers in the city of Rome when he said, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect…” (Romans 12:2, NRSV). 

As you might recall, that group of Roman citizens who had heard the Good News and decided to take up their cross and follow Jesus, was ENCASED in a culture that was utterly hostile to their Christian worldview. The pull to conform to that culture was a pull they had to resist every single day.

But I’ll have to confess… when I have occasion to stumble across a long line of people one-by-one jumping off of a tall cliff, the thought DOES cross my mind; “Hmmm. Why are they doing that? Why would so many of them be jumping if it was such a bad thing? Maybe I’ll just give it a try and see what it’s all about. What’s the worst that could happen?”

But then, either the voice of my mother from 50 years ago, or Paul’s words – or quite possibly both – echo in my ear. I step back, turn around, and walk away from that cliff. 

So, I guess I will just have to conclude by saying, “Mom… I’m so sorry I laughed at your advice… even after hearing it for the twelfth time. You were absolutely right…”

“… and I love you.”

Abundant blessings;

28
Oct
20

Standing Guard

I may have mentioned this before, but here in the northern Colorado part of the U.S., we are dealing with some pretty nasty forest fires at the moment. No one is quite sure how they started, but they have been fueled by high winds, dry conditions, and acres and acres of trees that were killed several years ago by the Japanese borer beetle. 

The fire closest to us – called the Cameron Peak Fire – has now attained the status of the largest forest fire in Colorado history. 

Even though the eastern edge of the fire is less than 10 miles away from us, Joan and I feel pretty safe. There is a 7500-foot mountain and a six-mile-long reservoir between us and the fire. That, plus God’s decision to dump about 20 inches of snow on the fire over the weekend helps us avoid pushing the panic button just yet.

As we have watched the heroic actions of both the volunteer and professional firefighters, we have seen them employ a tactic that seems particularly relevant for all of us… especially during this fraught time of politics, pandemic, and paranoia.

As they attempt to limit the spread of the fire – and protect homes – those firefighters strive to create a perimeter of safety. This can be accomplished by either removing trees (a.k.a., “fuel”), digging a trench, or even doing some kind of controlled pre-burning of patches of vegetation. 

Sometimes high winds foil their plans by carrying burning embers across those perimeters, but by and large it is an effective strategy for minimizing destruction.

And I don’t know about you, but lately I have been feeling the need to build some kind of “perimeter of safety” around my spirit to protect it from flames of an entirely different kind; 

  • … the flames of despair,
  • … the flames of hatred,
  • … the flames of bitterness,
  • … the flames of resentment,
  • … the flames of arrogance.

I look out and see them there… crackling and sparking in the pages of the newspaper, glowing in the posts and comments on social media, and popping and smoking in TV commercials and news stories. When I get too close, I can almost feel the edges of my soul starting to curl up as their heat intensifies. 

I am not an advocate of diving into the bunker and ignoring everything that is going on in the world. But I do believe we need to take great care when it comes to the matter of how those events – and their interpretations – affect our spirits. Just like with these forest fires, we can’t expect to keep dancing around the edge of the flames and not get burnt. 

King Solomon offers us this wise “fire protection” guidance in the book of Proverbs: “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” (Proverbs 4:23, NRSV).

Jesus – at the most dangerous point in his earthly life – knew the importance of guarding his spirit with some kind of perimeter of safety. And he knew exactly how to build it, too. If ever there was a moment to give in to fear, anger, or despair, the moment before his arrest surely was that moment. 

And so, what did he do? Just before he was arrested by the Roman guards, tried for blasphemy, and executed, Jesus went into the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. We know he prayed until he sweat drops of blood. We know he prayed for God’s will to ultimately be done… even if it did not necessarily sync with Jesus’ human will.

But he might also have prayed the words of Psalm 121 and said: I lift up my eyes to the hills — from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1-2, NRSV). 

The point is: JESUS PRAYED. He connected and communicated with God. He put his immediate dilemma into the perspective of eternity. He found a strong, godly refuge in the midst of the roaring flames. 

And even though his body was eventually consumed by that great inferno, his spirit remained intact and unscathed.

And I am guessing that today he would probably advise us to follow him and do the same.

Abundant blessings;

25
Oct
20

Is it worth it?

It is no exaggeration to say that this is one of the most important presidential elections this country has ever seen.

This election is much more than a contest between two different men or two different political parties. 

It is a battle between two different visions of our common future.

I get that. 

I believe that.

But still I have to ask: Is it worth it?

That is to say, is it worth the cost of my relationship with you?

To be clear; I stand firmly in one camp. I believe in the inherent rightness of my camp’s position and platform. I have given money and time to promote the success of those in my camp.

And, for the life of me, I cannot begin to understand why anyone would choose the other one.

I have been tempted – and may have actually given in to the temptation more than once – to besmirch the intelligence and integrity of those in the other camp.

But here is the thing; when I actually stop and talk to them calmly and reasonably, I discover that the “other campers” are good people overall. 

They want some (not all) of the same things I want. 

Some (not all) love Jesus like I do. The ones that do – and those that don’t – aren’t obnoxious about it.

Some (not all) have families they cherish, just like I do. 

Their hearts beat, their eyes tear, their noses run, their knees creak, and their tastebuds tingle, just like mine. 

They drive cars, watch TV, cheer for teams, waste their time, mow their lawns, and listen to music, just like I do.

Again, make no mistake about it… I think the leaders they aspire to follow are wildly wrong… even dangerously so. Therefore, I can’t help but question their judgment when they say that they choose to follow that guy and that party.

But should I hate them?

Should I demonize them?

Should I forever trash any relationship with them because I question their political judgment?  

Maybe today is a good time to bring Paul’s words to the church at Ephesus to mind. You know, that time he said, “For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”(Ephesians 6:12, NRSV).

I don’t know… What do you think?

Abundant blessings;

24
Oct
20

Happy birthday, Andy

Yesterday was Andy’s birthday.

His first 39 birthdays were celebrated here on earth. The last three have been celebrated in Andy’s new, celestial home. 

Having the good fortune to be born exactly halfway between them, Andy was a childhood friend of my sons, Adam and Graham. The three of them played soccer together, hung out together, got in trouble together, grew older and (somewhat) wiser together.

Andy was always a ball of scarcely contained energy, savage humor, razor-sharp wit, and boundless curiosity. He was the kind of guy adults would meet and walk away saying, “That dude’s going to make a mark on the world someday. Not sure what kind of mark, but it won’t be missed, that’s for sure.”

When high school ended, as is often the case, Adam, Graham, and Andy’s common path split into three unique, divergent byways.

Over the ensuing twenty years, I heard very little about Andy and his travels. I knew that he inherited his mother’s passion for the world outside the United States and eventually found a career with the U.S. State Department. I also heard – through my sons – that he did a lot of “burning the candle at both ends” before finally getting married and fathering two beautiful sons of his own.

I next reconnected with Andy when four years ago – totally out of the blue – he called me on the phone and asked if we could meet for coffee. 

When we met at the neighborhood Panera, Andy cut straight to the chase. He sat down, tentatively sipped his coffee, and said, “About three weeks ago I found out that I have stage four pancreatic cancer. My parents are doing research on some experimental therapies, but the outlook is not good. I might have a year left, at most.”

He took another sip of his coffee, bit into a bagel, and – with his mouth full – asked, “So… what’s new with you?”

Classic Andy.

He told me his diagnosis had been – to put it mildly – a stunning alarm bell. Now, with the end of his life no longer some vague, far-off possibility in the murky, uncertain future, Andy’s priorities had dramatically shifted. He was now keenly interested in trying to wrap his brain around the realities of a “life beyond this life,” as he put it, “before I take the big Dirt Nap.” 

Thus began a year-long series of weekly meetings between Andy and I at Panera Bread Co.

I should clarify… the subject wasn’t always God and the afterlife when we met. As an intensely political creature, Andy also had a lot to get off his chest about the mournful state of the union and the duplicity of his elected representatives. 

But mostly we talked about God… the reliability of evidence for God’s existence… the gross inability of the institutional church to present a relevant and compelling case for faith… the afterlife (“…why should I even believe there is one?”)… the profusion of conflicting faith claims and traditions… the persistence of evil in a redeemed world… you know, the usual stuff. 

Andy’s father, Tom, told me I should be very proud that Andy kept meeting with me and asking questions. He said, “Andy is a tough audience. He takes no prisoners and suffers no fools.” And while I agreed that Andy came at the topic with a lot of intelligence and skepticism, I found him to possess a genuine openness and eagerness to learn… this despite the F-bombs he regularly dropped in the middle of our discussions.

I never left our conversations entirely sure whether I had “broken through” with Andy (whatever that means), until one day he surprised me with a request. He looked at me and asked, “Would you baptize me?”

It was an open, eager question, asked casually… the same way he might have asked, “Would you like a bagel?” But it was clear that he knew exactly what he was asking and why. And so, on a Tuesday afternoon, surrounded by a few friends and family members, we met in the chapel of a nearby church and celebrated Andy’s new life in Christ. 

It wasn’t QUITE what he wanted… he asked for the full dunk immersion treatment… but it was a Christian baptism, nonetheless, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

Then, less than a month later, in the local Hospice House, enfolded in the loving embrace of many of his family and friends, Andy left this world and entered the next. I had gone over a couple of days before he died with my guitar… thinking that a few lightly strummed tunes might be a soothing accompaniment for everyone. After the first two chords at his bedside, however, Andy turned weakly toward me and said, “Russ… would you please stop.”

Classic Andy. 

Since then, his parents have told me that I helped Andy grow in his faith at a critical time. And I suppose there is some truth in that. But I look back on those Wednesdays at Panera as the time when Andy helped me grow in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

And for that, I will be eternally grateful. 

Rest in peace, Andy. Rest forever in the arms of the God who loves you.

Abundant blessings… especially to you, Tom and Jodi.

21
Oct
20

Finding the Quiet Center

Let’s see…

  • A new place to call home,
  • A global pandemic,
  • A chaotic, topsy, turvy, absolutely wack-a-doodle political scene,
  • Streets filled with people protesting against racial injustice, 
  • A record-breaking wildfire burning eight-and-a-half miles from the city limits of my new community,
  • A cable TV company tearing up nearby streets and yards to install new service…

Hmmmm, I wonder… what else can I add to my world to make it just a little more CHAOTIC?

Hey! I know! What about a complete remodel of our kitchen and dining room?

THAT’S the ticket!

As I cower here in my upstairs study/office/sanctuary, I can hear the sounds of a wall being broken down, followed by a wet/dry vacuum cleaner sucking up the drywall detritus, followed next by the sound of tiles being chipped away with a hammer. 

Yes, the door is closed, but the sounds and vibrations carry through quite clearly.

And besides the clutter, dust, and noise, we are now cooking in a microwave and eating on paper plates since the stove and dishwasher have been pulled out.

This project was supposed to start mid-summer and be finished by Labor Day. Thanks to the aforementioned global pandemic, absolutely EVERYTHING about this project was delayed.

I know, I know… “first world problems.” For sure.

As I sit here in the middle of this chaos, dust, and confusion I found a certain song coming to mind. You might know it, too. It is called, Find the Quiet Center.

And it goes a little like this…

Come and find the quiet center

     in the crowded life we lead,

          find the room for hope to enter,

               find the frame where we are freed:

clear the chaos and the clutter,

     clear our eyes, that we can see

          all the things that really matter,

               be at peace, and simply be.

This certainly is a time when we could all use a “quiet center,” isn’t it? Whether your kitchen is being remodeled, or your kids are driving you crazy, or your job is teetering on the brink, or your mental and/or physical health is in jeopardy, every one of us yearns for respite… even if only for a fleeting moment.

Of course, there are many options when it comes to coping with the chaos of life, aren’t there?

We can flee (or attempt to).

We can deny.

We can anesthetize with drugs, alcohol, sex, or mindless entertainment.

We can grit our teeth and stoically suffer.

Or we can seek out and enter the “quiet center” God offers us.

Once God spoke to the embattled Israelites through Isaiah’s mouth and told them, “As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you…” (Isaiah 66:13, NRSV).

Eight hundred years later, Jesus looked out sorrowfully on the chaos of the city of Jerusalem and lamented, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Matthew 23:37, NRSV). 

The Good News for today is: regardless of the particular circumstances any of us face right now, the quiet center we so desperately need is indeed available. 

AND it is actually even closer than you think!

Abundant blessings;

19
Oct
20

Beware the sinister sort!

I apologize if this question is too personal, but I am going to forge ahead and ask it anyway: how is your memory?

I ask because I find that mine is betraying me more these days than it ever has. Joan will mention a conversation we had just recently about some highly germane household subject, and I will reply, “Huh? Are you really sure we talked about that? I don’t remember that conversation at all!”

She will be then forced to prove to me that yes indeed, we really did talk about having chicken for dinner tonight after all. 

I don’t know… do you suppose there could be some kind of crazy correlation between birthdays and hard drive space?

NAAAAAH! Surely not. I can still remember my mother saying to my younger self, “Sometimes I get the feeling that everything I say to you goes in one ear and out the other!”

Of course, ask me to name Kansas City Chiefs quarterbacks from the 90s and I won’t miss a beat as I reel off names like DeBerg, Grbac, Moon, Gannon, Bono, and of course, the inimitable Joe Montana. I can tell you the name of Sky King’s airplane (the Songbird), Pat Kelly’s jeep (Ol’ Nellybelle) and the clown on Howdy Doody (Clarabelle) without turning once to Google.

Yes, scientists will actually validate that as we grow older, our brains lose some of their elasticity and with it the ability to hold on to certain key pieces of information.

Or maybe we all become like that kid in the Doonesbury cartoon who raised his hand in the middle of class and said, “Teacher… may I please be excused? My brain is full.”

Maybe there is something else going on. Something deeper… more sinister… something with more relationship-damaging potential. 

Maybe we (I) forget things because we (I) have engaged in SORTING. That is, sorting information into the categories of IMPORTANT vs. UNIMPORTANT. Then, once appropriately sorted, we (I) hang on to the tidbits we (I) decide are worth hanging on to and chuck out everything else, just like old potato peelings. 

Sorting behavior is troubling because it reveals uncomfortable truths about what I put into the “important” or “unimportant” hoppers. It would tell me, for example, that my priority system considers TV and football trivia to be more valuable to retain than information about the smooth operation of my household. 

Or maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe someone more conversant with senior brain health can set me straight on the real cause of why I remember what I do and forget everything else.

In the light of that conversation, however, isn’t it simply AWESOME to take this moment and celebrate the fact that God doesn’t SORT? How amazing to recall that our Creator doesn’t use those IMPORTANT and UNIMPORTANT baskets to toss things – or people – into? I love being reminded of the sacred worth of “all creatures, great and small” under God’s economy?

 The psalmist tells us: “The life of mortals is like grass,
    they flourish like a flower of the field;
the wind blows over it and it is gone,
    and its place remembers it no more.
But from everlasting to everlasting
    the Lord’s love is with those who fear him…”
         (Psalm 103:15-17, NRSV)

Jesus echoes the same theme when he says to the people gathered around him, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs on your head are numbered.” (Matthew 10:29, NRSV).

Today, if you find yourself engaged in a never-ending search for significance, I have some really, really Good News for you: your search is OVER!

YOU MATTER! In fact, you matter more than you can possibly imagine. 

That is because you matter infinitely to the One who created you. 

And I really don’t think it is possible to be more important than that.

Abundant blessings;

17
Oct
20

TODAY

Today the mountains spoke to me…

… they told me not to worry.

Today the mountains sang to me…

… they told me all is well.

Today the mountains lectured me…

… they said they’ve seen this all before.

Today the mountains whispered…

… They said, “God is by your side.”

Today the mountains stood silently…

… inviting me to do the same.

“Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea…”(Psalm 46:2, NRSV)

15
Oct
20

Where the Nutrients Are

A couple of years ago, I was driving from Point A to Point B, listening to the radio. As is usually the case, my car radio was tuned to the local National Public Radio (NPR) affiliate.

By Jeremy Nelson – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70921545

The host of the show was interviewing a young musician named Josiah Wise who performs under the name, serpentwithfeet. His musical style is described as “neo-soul,” whatever that means. (As an aside, that is one of the reasons I enjoy listening to NPR so much; they put me in touch with people I might never seek out on my own.)

As Mr. Wise told his story, he talked about his upbringing in the church, and his early interest in classical music. Many of his friends told him that he had an opera-quality voice and should pursue music education at the conservatory.

The point in the interview when my ears really perked up was when Wise talked about applying to multiple conservatories and receiving rejection after rejection. 

Those rejections ultimately led him to exploring his own unique musical style and put him on the path to what has now become a very successful musical career. [In the interest of full disclosure, I have not heard Wise perform. But he has been on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, so he’s clearly no slouch.]

When asked how he felt as he was hearing “NO” after “NO” after “NO,” in response to his applications, Wise (appropriately named, as it turns out) said this, “I learned to love NO. Because NO is where the nutrients are.”

Take a minute with that. Let it percolate. Connect it with your own experience.

Think back on the times in your life when you have resolutely pointed yourself in a particular direction – full of vinegar and conviction – and then run smack-dab into a brick wall of NO!

What did you do? How did it affect you?

In my case, one of the biggest “NO’s” I ever received came in the form of the failure of the small advertising and public relations firm I had started. I never could find the sweet spot between actually DOING the business and going out and FINDING NEW business. And so, after five years, I had to face the facts and shut the doors. 

That gigantic NO then led me to God’s YES of seminary and a life in ministry.

When we dive into it, we find that the Bible is chock full of stories of God’s people encountering life-shattering NO’s: the Great Flood, the fall of the Tower of Babel, the enslavement of the Israelites, droughts, plagues of locusts, suffering, disease, pestilence, crucifixion, and death. 

And as we see in each of those stories, each of those NO’s produced a rich field of nutrients that nourished astounding New Beginnings.

A new world… a new people… a new land… a new destiny.

But I have to admit… I am not sure I have EVER heard a “NO” in my life, smiled, and thought, “YUM! More nutrients!” I still regularly catch myself wanting MY plans to succeed… wanting MY blueprint of the future to triumph.

Someday I hope to be as wise as a serpentwithfeet… finding nourishment in the NO. 

Until then, I guess I will just keep listening and learning.

Abundant blessings;

14
Oct
20

The Last Hurrah

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it…” (Psalm 24:1, NRSV)

Seldom has there been a more oft-repeated, self-evident phrase than the one I am about to utter. Despite that, I press on…

“FALL IS MY FAVORITE SEASON!”

If it were not for the fact that our Fort Collins, CO sky is currently filled with smoke and ash particulates from a very nearby wildfire, Joan and I would be outside all day every day drinking in the autumnal splendor.

Here, for your viewing pleasure, are just a few examples of some of God’s best handiwork:

As we were out walking with the dogs and admiring the brilliant splashes of color the other day, I wondered if there were perhaps an Abiding Truth or Profound Life Lesson lurking there among the red and gold leaves.

And lo and behold, it didn’t take long at all to find one.

Isn’t it interesting, I thought, that trees wait until the very last moment of their seasonal “lives” to put on their brightest, most brilliant displays? As we all know, in a few short weeks, all of those gorgeous leaves will be lying on our lawns, choking our grass, and demanding to be swept up and discarded.

Just in time for the icy cold “death” of winter to descend.

And yet, through the intricate genius of our Creator, the last hurrah of these trees’ lives is their best. Their closing act is when they pull out all the stops… bursting forth with beauty… showering blessings on all those who chance into their orbit.

Is it possible that this just might be a lesson for we humans who happen to be enjoying the autumn of our earthly lives? Might we also be designed to make our last act our best act?

Just something to ponder…

Abundant blessings;

12
Oct
20

Pointing It Out

Sometimes, I really appreciate it.

Like, for instance, when we are out dining with friends and Joan sees a big blob of spaghetti sauce on my chin and then signals me – using that secret sign language couples develop over time – to reach up and wipe it off. 

At other times… OK, I’ll own it; MOST other times… I am much less enthusiastic about having my flaws pointed out by someone else. 

I would much prefer to go through life clinging to the belief that I am possessed of an unerring ability to reflect and correct, all by myself. 

I mean, what the heck! I’m a WRITER, for crying out loud! I spend a lot of time trotting out a sentence, stepping back and eyeing it dispassionately, finding all of its flaws, errors in syntax, grammar, and construction, and then fixing it! 

Why shouldn’t I be perfectly capable of doing the same thing with all of the other parts of my life? I mean, why do I need Joan – or ANYONE, for that matter – to point my defects out to me? I’ll find them and fix them myself, thank you very much!

Wouldn’t we all prefer to believe that we have the same kind of internal GPS system our cell phones are equipped with? You know, the one that sees a traffic jam up ahead, plots a new course, and then calmly, confidently tells us, “Rerouting!”

Sadly, that is not the nature of the world we live in. All of us – even the super-attuned ones among us – need the loving correction of a pair of eyes that belong to someone else. 

Even when… maybe especially when… that correction stings a little. 

A wise Chinese philosopher once said, “Do not correct a fool or he will hate you. Correct a wise man and he will appreciate you.” 

Or, as our hero, Jesus the Christ, once famously said, “You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” (John 8:32, NRSV). 

Of course, our willingness to receive correction has a lot to do with the manner in which it is offered. Oddly enough, I did not immediately say, “Thank you!” to the guy who blew his horn at me and helpfully suggested I should, “LEARN HOW TO DRIVE, MORON!!”

But our response to correction probably has a lot more to do with our willingness to receive it. Do we fear correction? Do we see it as a condemnation or rejection? Or do we see it as a compassionate act, motivated by another person’s desire to guide us toward excellence?

I will be the first to admit that this is still very much a growing edge for me. Too often I receive correction today – at the age of 68 – not very much differently than I received it at the age of 8.

Fortunately, though, I regularly give Joan and others around me, plenty of opportunity to help me work on correcting this personal blind spot. And thankfully, they do.

So, I guess I will close by asking you this: What do you think? How did I do? What should I change or correct about this post?

Go ahead… I can take it.

Abundant blessings;




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