This Three Things Thursday, let’s think about that “New Year, New You” mindset. Most of us love the fresh start of a new year – new calendars, new goals, new resolutions, new you… But can we really just do a hard reset January 1 and be brand new people?
Thing 1: We can be made new in Christ, and God promises us new mercies every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). We don’t need a yearly restart; we can start new every day.
Thing 2: Old you is no slouch. Old you has made it this far, so don’t discount your past and what it can teach you.
Thing 3: Do you really want to be all new, or do you want to steadily improve? I look at my life and see a gazillion things I’d like to improve, but I can’t do any of them instantly. Even if I could, it probably wouldn’t help me long-term because I would have skipped over the work of building the habits that make those changes successful.
I quit making New Year’s Resolutions long ago. Instead, I make goals throughout the year and work on building habits that will get me closer to those goals. To that end, I love a good planner, and I created my own last year that’s worked brilliantly for me. So, if you’re a creative type who needs a little structure to keep your spiritual health, mental health, and meal planning running more or less smoothly, maybe it will work for you. Here’s a link to download the planner for free (no strings, no e-mail subscription, just a free pdf):
What are your biggest and smallest goals for 2020? My biggest goal is to get my book published. My smallest is to get the Christmas decorations down sometime this month. On second thought, getting the book published may be easier for me…
I am growing. Whatever is in my path today is a tool.
Working through depression has taught me that mindset is everything, and I can choose my mindset. It’s not always an easy choice, and I don’t always make the best choice, but it is indeed a choice.
Real life doesn’t run perfectly according to plan. In fact, the more I plan my days, the more God seems to enjoy showing me my plans are nothing compared to his. I can view the kinks in my schedule as obstacles, or I can see them as tools.
Traffic is an opportunity to practice patience (and mercy…); an unexpected phone call presents a chance to develop a relationship; emergent issues at work sharpen my professional skills.
If I look at whatever comes my way as a tool to sharpen my skills or develop my resiliency, then I control how my brain accepts the obstacle. It’s an opportunity instead of an obstacle. It’s a good or neutral thing instead of a harbinger of doom. I control the narrative instead of depression brain. Depression brain works more like Eeyore, which is fine some days, but it’s no place to live every day.
Choosing the narrative also keeps me from being the victim of circumstances. I can’t control my circumstances, but I can control how I react to them.
I don’t have to eat a metric ton of chocolate because I had a bad day at work. I can choose to eat a half-ton instead, or none at all, and find a way to learn from the bad so I don’t keep repeating it. I know it sounds hopelessly optimistic, and extremely Miltonian to my fellow lit junkies, but I can make myself miserable or happy based on how I think about something. Taking every thought captive to make it obedient to Christ is definitely a Biblical perspective on positive thinking (2 Corinthians 10:5).
No one else can say enough good things about me for me to believe it if I don’t already believe for myself: that I’m a beautiful person and a talented writer and anything else that’s true about me. No one else can fill you up if you aren’t seeking your identity from your Creator and believing what he says about you: you are a beloved, chosen child of God.
It has taken me years of repeating that to myself and building on it to get out of depression brain mode all the time. Mindset and how I talk to myself have been the biggest game changers in my coping toolbox. I choose to listen to and repeat the positive until I believe it. I choose to give less volume and air time to the negative. I choose to evaluate and learn from negatives as a tool instead of letting them be an obstacle.
It’s simple work. But it’s not easy work. It gets easier as I go, but it was hard work changing my thought patterns. It’s also ongoing work that I can never slack up on – depression brain is just waiting for me to fall asleep at the wheel and run me right back into the mess I’ve worked through. As long as I keep growing, I won’t be crashing out of the race.
How do you see obstacles in your plans? What thought patterns do you need to change to grow from them instead of letting them hold you back?
Yesterday was hard, but you survived. Today is a new day.
There are variations of this thought in my journal all the time. The Navy SEALs famously say, “The only easy day was yesterday.” While experience bears this out – every day presents new challenges and new skills to develop that would definitely have made yesterday somewhat easier in retrospect – sometimes yesterday just sucked and there’s no getting around it.
But… Yesterday is done; it’s officially history now. Even better, you survived and made it to
today, so good job, you.
Now that yesterday’s ordeal is over, how can you improve
today by applying something you learned yesterday?
If you deal with depression, surviving today could be as
simple as deciding to keep living and to get out of bed. If that’s where you are, that’s solid
work. Improving might be seeking out a
counselor or going for a walk in the sun.
When your days are super hard, everything feels impossible,
so just focus on doing 1% better today than you did yesterday. 1% isn’t that much. If you survived yesterday, chances are great
that 1% more today will not kill you, either – and you’ll be a little better
off. Just focus on one single thing you
can improve on today and let yesterday go.
“…I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.”
Paul reminded the Philippians that we have to let go of the
past in order to move forward. Moving
forward is far more important than looking back. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t deal with
your past and make peace with it; it just means that whatever your past holds,
your present and your future depend on the actions you take today. Yesterday may still be delivering
consequences today, but your actions today aren’t dependent on what you did
Every action or inaction is a choice you’re making, no
matter how intentional you are about those decisions. When you face today as a new set of decisions
– each one an opportunity to be 1% better – it’s easier to not just survive but
We can’t improve yesterday, but your life tomorrow can be
better if you improve on today.
Because I am not a golfer (despite my putt-putt grandstanding) I looked up the word “mulligan” to be sure I was spelling it correctly and not misusing the term. I discovered on Dictionary.com (Mulligan Definition) that mulligan refers to a stew made up of whatever happens to be lying around as well as the more common – at least in my orbit – do-over term from the world of golf. The mulligan has a fun backstory if you love etymology like I do, and possibly refers to two different golfers named Mulligan who for different reasons requested to take another shot at the first hole (Mulligan Origin Story).
Apparently, there are some occasions in the PGA official rules that require a mulligan, and one player this year has been penalized for not taking his mulligan shot (Pro Golfer Penalized for NOT Taking a Mulligan). If you have read my blog for a while and are suddenly worried that I’m turning to sports writing, never fear: the mulligan references are just the perfect illustration for how I’ve been feeling about my writing and my life in general lately.
#1 – As both Misters Mulligan could attest, there’s no harm
or shame in asking for another shot.
I’ve started and stopped this blog so many times that it
will be a minor miracle if anyone comes back to read since I’ve been rambling
for such a long time. I feel like I
haven’t had a good grip on what I should be writing, and I haven’t made time to
do any real writing for several months.
I feel no lack of guilt and shame about that since the one consistent
gift God has given me and put me in a place to use is my writing.
Here’s what I need to remember about that shame: it’s not from God. It’s a wretched emotion that blocks me from writing and sharing again here on Mabbat, and it does nothing productive in my life. What is from God? The guilt of conviction that asks me to start again, to pick up where I left off and turn away from whatever was holding me back from his purposes – that’s from God. He gives each of us new mercies every morning to start the day fresh with him (Lamentations 3:23).
Every day is a mulligan.
We get new mercies every day. Whatever
you are facing that seems insurmountable, tell it the truth that God is
starting every day new with you, and all that old baggage need not ride along
for your mulligan today.
#2 – As Jesper Parnevik discovered, sometimes you HAVE to
take a mulligan. It’s in the rules.
Do you ever feel like you’re fighting the same battles over
and over again? I do. I am always making the same to-do list for
days on end because I don’t accurately plan for the time each task will take in
the real world. (I am much more
efficient in Anne-land without any interruptions or people or…) I feel like I will always be cycling in and
out of depression, and every loop back into it knocks me off track and requires
another run at rebuilding good habits (because maybe this time I will be
so well established in my routines that depression brain can’t knock me on my
duff – it’s a brave thought, at least).
I have been on and off again so many times with diet and exercise that
there’s not a diet plan out there I haven’t read about and at least briefly
All that guilt and shame I described about neglecting
writing? It’s equally applicable to my
habits, my depression brain, my healthy weight management, and any other aspect
of my life that feels like it runs on repeat mode. And the shame is equally destructive to all
those things, too. But guess what? New mercies apply here, too.
Not only that, but there are very real obstacles we run into
that require us to take a mulligan. Like
depression. And loss. Or life changes like job transfers, budget
shortfalls, aging, and a million other things we’ll encounter as long as we’re
alive on this earth.
We can try to play through, but ignoring the need to take
another shot will end up penalizing us somewhere down the road. Lining up a new shot with fresh perspective
doesn’t make you a failure, but failing to restart and floundering where you
Take the mulligan, get a read on the new shot, and get
moving. You only fail if you give up.
#3 – We are all a mulligan stew of our lived experiences and
the lessons we’ve learned from them.
I could list a lot of things I regret saying or doing. I imagine we all can. But I don’t think we should spend much time
on the regret. Everything I’ve lived
through has made me who I am today, and if I could go back and change the
things I regret, I wouldn’t, because they’re all a part of me now. Who would I be if I hadn’t learned the
lessons those regrets taught me? Who
would I be now without walking through all those years of loss? It’s taken a long time to get here, to feel
this free and this strong. I’m not going
It’s not the regrets that built who I am today, though; it’s what I learned from living through them. Remembering that I was cruel to someone who didn’t deserve it in middle school still pushes me to encourage and build up others instead of gossiping. Living through the worst of my depression brain taught me to ask for help when I’m struggling and to offer a lifeline to anyone I can. I have never been nor will ever be perfect.
I’m a hodgepodge stew of lessons learned, hopes, dreams,
failed good intentions, faith in the God of new mercies, and so much
coffee. What makes my particular stew
tasty rather than bitter is the salt and light of faith that has given me fresh
starts and God’s big-picture perspectives when I’ve needed them.
Here are three things for you to ponder this Thursday:
What kind of mulligan stew are you?
Where do you need to take a mulligan today?
How does the knowledge that God provides new mercies for everyone every day change your opinion of taking a mulligan?
Progress is progress. Keep moving and never give up.
Do you ever feel like you’re stuck on a hamster wheel and
never really getting anywhere with any of the things you want to accomplish in
your life? Me, neither. Ha!
I think we all feel like this at some point whether we admit to it publicly or not. Today’s Mindset Monday comes from my planner on a day when nothing had gone right for at least a week. At least that’s what I thought until I sat down and reviewed my daily evaluations in my planner.
I felt like I had done nothing to speak of because I had
nothing to mark off my goal checklist.
What I saw when I spent some time reviewing what I had accomplished that
wasn’t written on my goal work list was not as insignificant as it felt when I
was feeling mopey about it. I had taken
care of my household, worked, done some writing, and mostly stuck to my food and
exercise plan. That was plenty!
It may have felt like nothing was happening when I looked at
what I had done on my book writing, but I was still making progress there,
too. It just wasn’t the lightening pace
I had set for myself when I planned out my goals.
I’ve been taking a new approach to goal setting and
achievement for this season of my life.
I’m not setting deadline dates as often.
If there’s no outside reason for a deadline, I’m leaving it open ended
rather than pacing it out on a calendar.
Think of goals as a roadmap rather than a timeline.
I’m still going to get to the end destination, but my pace
won’t always be the same or predictable.
Some days I can speed down the highway at 90 miles an hour, while others
I’m on a leisurely stroll. Both are
getting me closer to the goal result, and I need to be happy that I’m moving
towards it, even when it feels like a snail could outrun me.
With parenting and work and volunteering at church, I’m just
not in a space in my life right now to narrowly focus on much else. Whether I like it or not, that means writing more
than my daily journal pages will be the thing that slides down the list of
important things to do. That’s okay,
because it won’t always be like that.
In fact, here’s a story of a woman who published her first
novel at the age of 95.
She never quit. It
took her 63 years to write her novel, and she did it. She is my hero and a brilliant example that
you’re too old or too late until you’re dead.
Whatever it is you’ve been avoiding because you think you don’t have time
or will never be able to finish it, just start.
Start with something small and then just chip away at it little at a
time until you’ve achieved your goal.
You can’t accomplish anything if you never start. It may be slow and feel all kinds of ugly, but slow and ugly progress is still progress. You only fail if you give up.
Discipline is most important if you’re going to accomplish big goals.
I find that I repeat this in various wordings and journal
entries and motivational memes for my vision board. I tell myself some version of this statement
several times a day.
I wish that meant that I was good at being disciplined about
writing and exercising and eating well and housekeeping and…
I have some very big goals, and I have some even bigger
dreams. And I struggle to stay on top of
my daily chores list to keep my life and my family running more or less
smoothly, much less knock off items on my goals list. I fight with the knowledge that if I sit down
to write or paint, then I am not doing something else worthy of doing on my
to-do list. I have to make space to
write, and that space will always come from the space of something else I could
It’s always a dance of time management. I think I have two left feet when it comes to
this dance. I am always scrambling to
keep up with parenting and housework and work work and goal work. It’s not really possible to do it all well
all the time. I know that, but I still
think I should be able to do it all.
Discipline does not mean I will do it all well all the
time. Discipline will allow me to work
in each space for a focused amount of time while maintaining an acceptable
level of slack in the other areas – when I’m good at it, anyway.
Without applied discipline, I have too much slack everywhere,
not enough focus on anything, and everything slides to hades in a handbasket. What I aim for is to keep doing small chunks
of maintenance work every day. I want to
spend less time more frequently doing things like cleaning my house or doing
laundry so that I can keep larger amounts of time every day open for goal work.
If I spend 45 minutes per day on laundry and housework, I
won’t spend 5 hours on the weekend doing it, which is when I usually get to do
the most writing and crafting. (I say
this like I’m an exceptional weekly house cleaner – I’m not.) If I do smaller weekly tasks every day, even
if I skip something one week, I will probably get it the next, and maybe it
won’t snowball into horrendously ignored levels.
Also, if I manage to stay disciplined on the small things
like completing a daily housekeeping chore, I feel less guilt about what’s
undone when I sit down to create. I need
to create, but I’m also responsible for a lot of other things. It’s hard to escape that pressure to get
everything else right before I spend time making something, but if I’m
disciplined enough to keep things in good enough shape, I can sit down and work
on the things that make me happiest without the nagging feeling that I should
be washing dishes.
Mostly, I need to practice discipline to actually get the
work done on my big goals. I’ll never
get my book published if I don’t do the steps to get there. I’ll never finish a painting if I don’t sit
down and do the sketching and brush work.
It’s great to have goals; it’s better to make them happen.
I’ve been procrastinating this step for months. I’d like to say something like, “I’ve been so busy with other things that I just couldn’t get this together until now,” but the truth is, I’ve been avoiding this part of the book publishing process. Like a good INFJ, I know that if I never put my book out into the world, I won’t be disappointed or hurt if it “fails.”
My definition of failure is all wrong, though. If I only want commercial success, I may indeed fail. If I want to fulfill my mission and share my story, then the only failure is to never publish. So…..
I am ready to write book proposals, and I would love some beta readers. If you’re interested in being a test subject, I need to hear from you. First, sign up for the e-mail list. You can do that here:
I’ll draw 5 subscriber names at random to send the beta copy to. Then, I need to hear from you again after you read the book. I’ll send a few questions to gather feedback, and you can add any additional comments that you think will strengthen the book.
When you subscribe to the mailing list, you’ll receive a free copy of a Colossians creative Bible study workbook. If you’ve already signed up, you’re already in the drawing. (You may also be wondering why you bothered to sign up since you haven’t been getting anything from me. I promise I have material scheduled to go out the rest of the month, so thanks for your patience!) You’ll also recieve two e-mails a week from me – one with creative Bible study material, and one with prompts to practice your art skills. Of course, you can unsubscribe at any time.
I’d really love your feedback and support. Thanks for walking with me through this journey so far!
In my planner every day, I fill in the answer to, “If I were
a life coach, I would tell myself…”
Sometimes these sage bits of advice to myself are as simple as, “Don’t
suck,” and sometimes they are slightly more nuanced. As I was thinking about what I should be
sharing on the blog and in the Mabbat FB group, I decided maybe some of my
“life coach” advice could be helpful to someone else. So, I decided to run with a theme for the
start of the week: Mindset Monday.
This week’s mindset is a statement I wrote as my own life
coach, and I have used it every day since as motivation. I’ve actually written it as encouragement to
answer the “If I get stuck, I will keep going by…” question every single day
for several months.
I am a writer, so I will write.
I don’t have to publish a book to call myself a writer. I write a lot, and I love to write, so I am a
writer. Writers write. It’s what they do. I am a writer, so I will write. When I get stuck, when in doubt, when nothing
feels like it’s working… write. It can
be that simple.
So you’re not a writer, and you think at this moment I’ve lost my mind, and this has nothing to do with mindset. But consider that all of the things we want to do are just about that simple. You want to run a 5k race? You will have to train, but the simplest form of that is to think, “I am a runner, so I will run.” Of course, you may want to work through a training plan, but at the most basic level, to be the thing, you have to do the thing. If you run, you are by definition a runner.
I am a painter. I am a writer. I am a poet. I am a teacher. I am an athlete.
I do none of those things as my day job, but those are all things that I claim to be because of what I do. All except that last one. I have been an athlete, but I am currently out of shape. I need to lose weight and exercise to be healthier and to be the best version of me I can be for my family. I have created some training goals and plans, so I am training myself to say, “I am an athlete, so I will workout and feed my body well.” I can’t really claim to be an athlete as an out of shape blob, so once I say it, I need to follow my motivational statement with action. As soon as I start working through my training plan, I will be an athlete. I will be someone who is working out to complete a goal race.
My “I am” statements are simple visualization exercises. It’s a great way to motivate yourself and see yourself and think of yourself as the thing you want to be. I am an athlete the second I put on my running shoes and hit the street in the morning. I won’t be an elite athlete, nor will I look graceful or fit as I begin the journey. But I’ll be some version of an athlete.
How many dreams do we hold back on working for because we
think we won’t be good enough to lay claim to the title? At what point can you claim a title?
I hesitated for years to call myself a writer and feel
comfortable saying it out loud to other people.
I felt like maybe I should whisper it, or maybe they would ask how many
books I’d published and then I’d be banished and ridiculed for pretending to be
a writer. I wish I could tell myself
then what I know now. I am a
writer. I have always been a
writer. I don’t have to justify that to
anyone except God who gave me the gift of stringing words together into
You don’t have to justify yourself either. There are things in life we can claim because
we have the formal training or certification cards to prove it. For example, I am a scuba diver. I have multiple certifications to prove
it. Soon, I’ll be a certified Hazardous
Materials Technician, and I’ll have a piece of paper to prove it. (It’s related to my day job, and it’s been so
much fun to learn.) Here’s the thing
about the HazMat Tech certification: I may have a paper that says it, but I’m extremely
unlikely to be out in a suit and SCBA working.
I will not be claiming HazMat Tech on my resume, even at work.
I’m not a writer because there is some licensing agency that
official certifies writers; I’m a writer because that’s how God wired my
brain. I’m an athlete because I’m
naturally competitive, and I’m training to run a race. I’m a painter because I paint. None of those things are invalidated by my
skill level. I’m a good writer; I’m an
average painter; I’m a lousy athlete.
I’ll never improve if I don’t practice. I’ll never practice if I think the things I
want to be are unattainable. If my
dreams are never to be reached, what’s the point in trying? That’s how my brain works without, “I am
_____, so I will _____.”
I challenge you to think through the goals and dreams you’ve
let slide. Is there one you want to pick
up and run with? What will it take for
you to make it happen? What’s the main
thing you’ll need to do or to practice?
What’s your “I am” statement? I’d
love to encourage you on your journey if you want to share it. You can comment here, and you can join the
Mabbat FB group for a more private setting and regular encouragement.
A cycle I repeat in my life is to be disciplined for a time, to make progress, and then to implode spectacularly and digress. Self-sabotage isn’t unavoidable, but I sure act like it is when it happens, as though it were an inevitable, long-awaited invader that I am helpless to repel. I see it now as a cycle of depression and fear, so I’ve been working to uncover the roots of it whenever I see myself running headlong into a tub of ice cream or completely avoiding writing.
I wish it were a simple fix, but I find that my self-sabotage roots are different for each problem. When I skip writing for long periods of time, it’s generally because I’m afraid to fail. No one will read what I work on, and that will prove I’m not a good writer, so if I just don’t do it, no one will need to know how bad I am. (I don’t really believe this to be truth, but it is a very real fear that threatens my focus every day if I let it.)
I’m working on improving my health and losing weight, and that is consistently the worst area of self-sabotage for me in the last ten years. My tendency is to eat my feelings. My current weight is proof of that bad mental habit. I’ve worked really hard to stop the stress eating, and I’ve mostly curbed it with better coping tools. Once in a while I’ll turn to chocolate for comfort, but it’s a rare thing now. What’s less rare is just randomly eating a metric ton of crap or eating nothing but sweets for days at a time. I have no reason or desire to eat the junk, but I struggle to stop it.
The more I dig up the roots of this particular self-sabotage issue, the more I uncover grief pain that still lurks under the surface.
All those years of dealing with miscarriage after miscarriage without the healthiest coping tools led me to put on a lot of extra weight. That mental weight is very physically visible in my body weight. Every time I’ve worked to lose weight, I end up putting it right back on, even when I’m mentally healthy.
It finally hit me that I’ve carried the weight like a badge of honor and a memorial of all that loss instead finding a better way to memorialize the pain. The truth is, it hurts to deal with the enormity of my grief, still, years later and so many miles down the road from the intensity of surviving the immediate experience of it. Honestly, it hurts even more to admit it here because it’s embarrassing to say out loud. I haven’t been able to maintain weight loss because I might forget by angel babies. It sounds a little ridiculous, but it’s the biggest root I keep stumbling over when I look at the problem closely.
I love that the way I hear from God most often is to hear echoes of what I’m hearing in my personal Bible study and prayer everywhere. It seems like whatever message I’m picking up is suddenly the sermon topic, the theme of every book I read or podcast I listen to, the eventual topic of conversations with family and friends… I just know now that when I hear the same thought from multiple directions, that’s what God needs me to hear.
As I dug and dug to figure out why I kept eating junk despite my best plans to eat well and exercise, God kept putting Philippians 1:21 in front of me. When I finally saw what my stumbling block was, I realized that I am completely willing to die for Christ. No questions, no doubts, only joy at the thought of seeing my angel babies and having all my tears wiped away. But Philippians 1:21 says, “to live is Christ and to die is gain.”
If living is Christ, then I can have at least some of my tears wiped away here on earth. If living is Christ, then I can live in that joy now without waiting for heaven. If living is Christ, then I must be a better example of the discipline he demands of me to be my best and offer my best to serve him well.
In short, I have to focus on life because death is not my calling.
We are called to abundant life, and I haven’t been living every area of my life as though to live is Christ. I have to change my thinking every day and fill in the blank, “to live is ___.” My previous answer obviously hasn’t been Christ when it comes to diet and exercise because I’ve been living in the past instead of in the grace and life of Christ.
It’s not going to be an easy emotional hurdle to clear, but at least now I’m working on the right problem. I can lose weight and not feel guilt or shame about my pregnancy losses. I can eat like a regular person rather than hiding the pain with bad food choices. I can live in Christ in this space, too, and I can continue to heal without fear of forgetting my grief. I just need to focus on new and healthy ways to acknowledge it.
If my first child had been born on his due date, he would be ten years old today. He would have dark hair and light eyes – blue like Steven’s, or hazel like mine. He would be ten – full of boyish charm and sweat and dirt and ten – almost a teenager, almost a middle schooler (my favorite awkward age to teach), almost… What kind of big brother would he have been? I’m sure he would have been tall like my husband, with the same magical, mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
It seems wrong not to acknowledge his loss today, but I am at a loss to appropriately mark his passing. There was no body to bury, no headstone to lay flowers on, no record of his life at all except for in my medical history, as the first of many “recurrent spontaneous abortions.” My body is the only place he lived. And died. Am I a walking graveyard? Somedays it feels that way.
Today, my body is weary of marking the passage of these lost children; my soul dark and void and chaotic in the face of their memory.
I named him Baruch, Hebrew for “blessing,” because I intended to wrestle like Jacob until God blessed me in spite of this horrific loss. I wrestled through loss after loss after loss, and I have been blessed, though in none of the ways I intended in the early days after Baruch’s death.
I wonder what God’s name for my child is. I wonder what his name for me is. Is it a name I’ve grown into, the way a tiny child saddled with an enormous name or a chain of forefathers will? Is it a name earned by what I’ve endured? A name reflective of the magnitude of grace and love that allowed me to endure? Some days I’m ready to trade in my earth-name for my God-given heaven-name. I long to know as I am known, to see God’s face, to see the faces I’ve lost.
But I still have work to do here – to love as I am loved, to know God and to make him known, to carry the memories of children I never met, to endure and thrive and encourage as many people as I can to run with me across the finish line. That is how I will mark the passing of my Baruch. My blessing.