What does the Lord want me to learn regarding GENTLENESS?

In the past few weeks, the Lord has put the word "Gentleness" "in my face," so to speak, at least 3 different times. One was the journal post (see below "Faith Writes" from my Facebook group "Praise Prompts") and another was a journal prompt from Margaret Feinberg's newest devotional Flourish. There has been a 3rd, but at this moment, I can't remember the circumstances that brought it my mind.

Anyway, as I have been answering and responding to these prompts, obviously I became very aware of the fact that "gentleness" has kept popping up. As someone who has studied JOY for years and who continues to study JOY, and who determined at the end of 2016 that the Lord was giving me "Lion" for my 2017 word, it continues to puzzle me as to why "gentleness" has suddenly become something the Lord keeps laying on my heart. 

I honestly do feel as if I can give myself a 7 or 8 out of 10 on a "gentleness scale." I feel like I try to be gentle and loving to all around me. I have moments, as anyone does, when I lose my temper and roar like a lion a little, but I still feel that I can say that I am more gentle than not. 

The definition of "gentleness," straight from dictionary.com is:

1.

kindly; amiable: a gentle manner.

2.

not severe, rough, or violent; mild: a gentle wind; a gentle tap oon the shoulder.

I feel like I'm kindly and amiable--gentle in manner--with those around me. Yes, I can get really sarcastic and snarky, but it's all in good fun...isn't it???

I don't think I'm severe, rough, or violent. Again, I am quite often pretty sarcastic, but I honestly don't believe that being sarcastic makes me severe, rough, or violent. When students need me--need my help on an assignment or anything, really, I do everything in my power to work with them and to be as kind as I can possibly be--without letting them make excuses or get away with not doing the work. I try to discuss a fair compromise so that the student benefits--but I don't get stuck trying to show favoritism or even being "severe."

So then, why is God putting "gentleness" in my heart lately? What is He trying to tell me? To teach me? To show me? To get me to do? Or be? In all honesty, I'm struggling with this one. If you know me and have any thoughts or would like to join me in prayer regarding my discovering what God wants me to understand when it comes to "gentleness," I invite your thoughts, ideas, and especially your prayers.

Faith Writes

Word:  Gentleness

Read:

You should be known for the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God. ~ 1 Peter 3:4

1 Peter 3:4New Living Translation (NLT)

⁴ You should clothe yourselves instead with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.

Investigate:

1.              How would you rate your level of gentleness? I have never thought about gentleness in terms of “rating my level of” it. Hmmmmmm. I suppose that if I would rate my level of gentleness on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being most gentle and 1 being least gentle, I’d have to give myself around 7 or 8. In recent years, I have dealt with extreme rage and I am still working on giving that to God and not getting overly worked up. I’m better than I was even just a year ago, but it’s still something that can rear its ugly head if I don’t stay in the Word or seeking Him every single day.

2.              How do others see you?  How would they describe you? I think that others see me as very gentle, at least my students do. Those who know me best and who are around me outside the classroom are very aware of how easily I can lose my temper. But I think they are all also aware of the fact that I have come a long way and I am much more gentle now than I’ve ever been. I know they receive a lot more hugs than they used to!!!! ;)

Technique:  5 Minute Sprint

Write for 5 minutes about the word Gentleness.  Write continuously without stopping.

Gentleness: I’ve honestly never given the word “gentleness” much thought beyond using it casually in conversation and/or in writing. I know that of the several times I have been in the hospital, the gentleness and loving care of my doctors, nurses, CNAs, etc. have all gone a long way in helping keep me calm during each procedure/surgery. While every single care giver has always been very gentle and quite wonderful, I have to say that the male nurses in particular have always been the most gentle. I don’t know if their instructors spend time teaching them that they have to be aware of the fact that they are much stronger than they may realize and how to have such a gentle touch, but I have been highly impressed with the gentleness of the male nurses I have had. This last time I was in the hospital (I had my gall bladder removed), the first nurse I had in recovery—as soon as I woke up from surgery—was not as nice as I have been used to. She wasn’t mean, but when I started crying and just wanted someone to hold my hand for a moment, she told me to calm down, I was alright, and that she had two patients to take care of—she didn’t have time to hold my hand. Thankfully I was too drugged still and under the effects of the anesthesia to allow her words or her tone to sink in too deep, but it is interesting to note that even more than a month later, I still remember her lack of gentleness and compassion with me. I have had a large number of amazingly gentle and compassionate nurses and others in the health care field, but that one nurse just really hurt my feelings. All I wanted was for someone to hold my hand for just a moment while I woke up and calmed down.

Evaluate:  Write one or two sentences that sum up what you have discovered after completing your sprint and questions.

No matter how gentle the majority of people are around us, it only takes one non-gentle person to make me feel less than. I need to keep reminding myself of all the wonderful health care individuals who have cared for me with amazing gentleness and tender loving care.

-        The nurse immediately after waking up from my first D&C who held my hand and shared her own story of loss and crooned soft words of comfort to me until I quit crying.

-        Every single person who came to my son’s funeral—the gentleness and care of their hugs and loving kindness still makes my heart feel full to bursting.

-        The care and gentleness of everyone involved when we lost our firstborn to stillbirth. Since I still go to the doctor who delivered our precious James Isaac, clearly he and his team were gentleness personified.

While I have never really taken time to think carefully about gentleness beyond using it casually in conversation or writing, it is clear that gentleness is something I find very important in the people around me—especially in those who care for me—in the health-care field as well as my loved ones.

The Incredible Importance of Touch

Are you a touchy-feelie kind of person or more of a touch-me-not? I'm touchy-feelie. As a teacher, yes, I touch my students--non-sexually (don't even). I'll touch their hand, shoulder, or maybe even their head/hair. And I'm very forthcoming with hugs. 

When I took Gary Chapman's 5 Love Languages test, it was no surprise at all to find that TOUCH is my love language. 

Needless to say, touch is very important to me.

This past November and December, I got sick--again. This time, we determined that my gall bladder was the cause so I had my gall bladder removed in December. I was not at all worried or concerned. The same doctor who did my diverticulitis surgery seven years ago did my gall bladder surgery, so I was familiar enough with him to know that I was in good hands.

With that being said, though, I woke up in recovery crying. Sobbing, actually. I couldn't catch my breath. I'd done that before after both of my miscarriages and subsequent D&C's, but I was surprised to find myself so worked up after this pretty routine gall bladder removal surgery. When my nurse asked me if I was ok, I was able to breathe out that I needed her to hold my hand. When she didn't respond, I said it again, "I need someone to hold my hand," I sobbed.

I was told by my nurse that I was just fine, "I have two patients who need my attention, Polly. You'll be alright. Pull it together."

I want you to know that I am not trying to say anything negative about my post-op nurse. I'm sure she was doing her job and was maybe feeling pressure since the OR had gotten so far behind that morning. All of my nurses at Frye were fantastic and did everything in their power to make my day-surgery as painless and "easy" as possible.

What I am saying is that as a touchy-feelie person, it is no surprise that as soon as I came out of surgery, all I wanted was physical touch. I NEEDED someone to hold my hand or touch me in SOME way. I was almost desperate for it in the same way I was desperate for the pain medication. 

When I was asked who I wanted to see first, I asked to see my mom. (Even at 46-years old, when I'm sick, I still just want my Mommy. And I am NOT at all ashamed to say it.) When Mom arrived, she held my hand for a minute and then started doing the little things that needed to be done to help me get through my recovery so I could leave. But I kept grabbing her hand or reaching out just to touch her. She never pulled away or pushed me away, but she and dad were ready to get back home. So she needed me to do what the nurse told me so I could leave.

I will admit that it is difficult not to be offended when the person I am with is a touch-me-not or just a non-touchy-fellie person. I do tend to take it personally. I know that not everyone is like me and I can't expect everyone to want to touch as I do, but the plain and simple truth is that when I am confronted with a non-hugger, touch-me-not person, it cuts me to the quick and makes me feel as if the person is saying he/she doesn't want to touch ME.

It used to be something that would send me home in tears and/or sometimes cause me to fall into depression or to have an anxiety attack. In recent years, my God has given me the understanding that He created each and everyone of us to be different and in those differences, some people are just uncomfortable with non-sexual touch--touch outside of intimate, personal relationships. These people view any and all touch as invading personal space or possibly being too intimate. And that is simply who these people are.

Just as I am someone who is touchy-feelie.

I can't be offended because others are just being themselves, just as they can't (or shouldn't) get offended just because I am being myself. It boils down to respecting one another's boundaries. The greatest compliment I can and have received is when a non-touch person not only allows me to hug him/her, but he/she OFFERS me a hug willingly!!! I try not to force my touch on those who are uncomfortable, but as someone who feels touch is, quite possibly, the most important way of developing relationships, I hope those are on the receiving end understand that touch--for me--is just a part of who I am.

My Beloved Little One, Panya Ruth

When I first learned that I was pregnant, six months after James Isaac's stillbirth, I already had names picked out. Even so, from the very first, I began calling him/her "Little One." I wrote in my journal every day of my short pregnancy, always referring to him/her as my Little One. I had found the name "Panya" in a baby name book. I loved that it was so close to panda and then when I read that it meant "little," the name was sealed--at least if we were having a girl, that was. After losing James Isaac, I was almost desperate for my Little One to be safe.

Seventeen years ago today, I spent the day bleeding--knowing in my heart-of-hearts what that meant. I remember using the bathroom late Sunday evening and noticing some blood, but convincing myself that it was just hemorrhoids. Then on Wednesday, November 10, just before school started, there was more blood. We had chapel that day; I sat in the back as far away from everyone that I could get but still be in the actual chapel with my students and cried as I begged and pleaded and bargained with God to make what I feared NOT true. 

By the end of my school day, I knew that I was in the process of miscarrying. I had no idea what to do. No one ever prepares us for THIS. None of the baby books, tv shows, or conversations had told me what the protocol was when bleeding so early in a pregnancy. I was unprepared and scared out of my mind.

When my husband and I were both home from school later that afternoon, I told him what was going on. Since it was a Wednesday, he was focused on church--he's a pastor, you know. We agreed that it would be better for me to stay home. We had attempted to call my doctor's office but had not been given any definitive answer concerning what we should do. 

The bleeding had grown steadily worse throughout the day and into the evening. I was bleeding through pads almost faster than I could change them. I called my husband at church and told him that I needed him to come home; he sent one of our church folks over with some heavy-duty pads.

We ended up at the emergency room where it was confirmed that I was miscarrying. It was determined that a D&C was the best option. 

I remember waking up crying--sobbing--shaking all over with every fiber of my being. I couldn't stop. In spite of being still drugged, my body and my brain knew what I had been through and it was just too much.

Such details are as real to me in this very moment as they were seventeen years ago. It's as if time has not passed. Yet there are other details about that day and evening and into the following days that I couldn't recall if you tortured me in an attempt to get me to give more details. 

My Little One--my Panya Ruth--was gone. Praying hadn't worked. Begging hadn't worked. Crying hadn't worked. Wanting desperately with every fiber of my being hadn't worked. NOTHING had worked to keep from happening what clearly was inevitable. 

I currently should have a son in his senior year of high school; a daughter as a junior; Samuel a sophomore; and an eleven-year old in 5th grade. 

Days like today have gotten easier to get through over the years, but time has not lessened my desperate desire to have ALL my children here with me. I imagine that my "Little One" would be short and stocky, like her mom, with a shy, yet friendly personality--opposite of her mom. I imagine that her favorite color would be pink, but she would hang out with her dad and older brother at any and every opportunity--even if it meant fishing or hunting. So yes, she would wear pink camo--and look absolutely adorably gorgeous! She would have dark hair and brown eyes. She would love to read; she and I would constantly be reading books together and discussing them. 

Don't think that I am falling back into depression again. I'm not. Praise the Lord. It is a simple truth that having lost a very much wanted baby has left a hole in my heart--3 holes when I include James Isaac and Anna Rose, as well. These holes heal, but have left painful scar tissue that is irritated most on anniversaries/birthdays and holidays.

So don't worry about, but please do pray for me. The enemy likes to

attack me more during days like today than usual. I am finally learning how to combat him, though. With the power of the Holy Spirit and the armor of God that I put on daily, I am able to STAND FIRM against him. The battle has already been won. My Little One is in heaven, safe in the loving arms of Jesus Himself, ready and waiting for the wonderful day when I will join her and be able to hold her myself.

In the meantime, God has anointed me with His oil of Joy and I hope and pray that I live a life worthy of His anointing.

Lessons learned on my Journey to Joy Part 2

*If you haven't read Part 1, please take a few moments to peruse that entry before reading this one...

4. I have to CHOOSE Joy. Some time during my Journey to Joy, God gave me the scripture, "You love justice and hate evil. Therefore God, your God, has anointed you, pouring out the oil of joy on you more than on anyone else" (Psalm 45:7 & Hebrews 1:9, NLT). I heard Him very clearly in my spirit tell me that He was going to pour out His oil of Joy on me--more than on anyone else. It was overwhelming and incredibly humbling. In some ways, that felt like a lot of pressure, but I found myself rejoicing in His promise because I was sick and tired of being sad and depressed as well as full of anxiety and rage all the time. I didn't like myself in such a state. 

As I began studying everything I could get my hands on about JOY--specifically on CHOOSING JOY, I quickly learned that in order to know TRUE Joy, we must suffer extreme sorrow. Don't think that I'm trying to say that I'm "glad" I've gone through the horrors I've experienced. If I could have any of my babies here with me to touch, kiss, and snuggle, I would--in a fraction of a heartbeat! I'd very much love NOT to have the still painful scars on my belly. It would be wonderful not to have to have experienced anxiety to the degree that I had to take medication for it.

But I do know the truth of God's word that He will turn my sorrow--my mourning--to JOY (Esther 9:22; Isaiah 61:3; Lamentations 5:15; NLT). The only difference between God's promise in these passages and the one in Psalms and Hebrews is the promise of giving the anointing oil of joy to ME MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE. 

I found myself accepting God's promise and telling Him that I also receive His promise of pouring out His anointing oil of joy on me more than anyone else. It has not made my journey to joy easier or lighter, let me tell you. I have to continually CHOOSE to choose JOY and to remind myself of God's promise. I still have days when it's difficult to choose, but those days are growing further and further apart, Praise the Lord.

5. I cannot allow anyone's words or actions steal my JOY. I call it "pop my balloons." I have spent a lot of time over the years listening to nay-sayers and Negative Nancys and to allow their words and actions to determine my level of joy--or lack thereof, as the case typically was. 

I personally think that the biggest reason why I struggled in this area as much as I did was because I didn't like--or love--myself. I hated myself. I hated who I was. I hated who I wasn't. I hated what I had been through. I hated my husband. I hated life. I was angry with myself and with everyone around me. I was a nay-sayer, a Negative Nancy.

And I hated myself for it.

After reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts, I began keeping

my own Gratitude list--just like Ann's. I started in a little red moleskin journal that I kept in my purse. I came to a place at work where I realized that my co-workers and I were spending an awful lot of time complaining, so I made the decision that for every complaint I made, I had to give them 5 positives. That first day, I had to do 20 positives! It got much easier after that, but once I got started, I found that I enjoyed writing about things that gave me JOY--that I was grateful for. So I continued the list--writing 5 things that I was grateful for--for the next several months. I posted them daily online--Facebook.

I gradually moved to naming just one thing that brings me JOY each and every day. I keep the list on Facebook as well as write each entry in a special journal my mom gave me for Christmas. The more I focus on what brings me JOY--what I'm grateful for, the less the nay-sayers and Negative Nancys affect me--pop my balloons!

Every once in a while, one will come along, armed and ready and pop a balloon or two before I realize he/she is even there, but the more I see what God is doing in my life--where He has brought me and what He has brought me out of, the more I am able to move my balloons out of harm's way!!

Lessons Learned on my Journey to Joy Part 1

One of the awesome suggestions Michele Weldon makes in her awesome book Writing to Save Your Life: How to Honor Your Story Through Journaling is to write down lessons I've learned throughout my journey to healing, or in her words "to save my life." So here are a few of the lessons I've learned on my Journey to Joy. Note carefully that this is just a first run-through!!! ;)

1. No one can heal me but ME--and God. I can remember thinking to myself that it sure would be wonderful if someone would come along and just tell me EXACTLY what I needed to do in order to begin healing and moving away from the sadness, depression, anxiety, rage, etc. I even asked my counselor after I had been with her for a while why she never admitted me to the hospital. She told me that she had seriously considered it, but they only admit patients who specifically request it! Believe you me, if I had known that early on, I would have requested it. I desperately wanted my husband to notice how very bad things were for me and DO something--ANYTHING--to help me. 

Coming out on the other side of this journey, I see that I had needed to tell my counselor AND my husband as well as others around me that I needed help, but I wanted them to recognize that I needed help without having to be told.

Crazy, mixed-up mess, right? Yes, it was as horrible a vicious cycle

as you imagine it to be.

The truth is that even if someone had tried to help me as I so desperately wanted, I would have fought him/her tooth and nail. I would have declared that there wasn't anything wrong and laughed it off. But I was in such a desperate state that yes, I did consider the "S-word"--once, I was driving onto campus and realized that I was speeding up as I headed straight for a light pole. 

I can only Praise the Lord that He had His angels protecting me and that when the time came, with His help, I did ask for and get the help I needed.

2. It really is ok to say that I am NOT ok and to ask for help. As a pastor's wife and someone who has been a Christian the vast majority of her life, I felt an obligation to BE "on"--to be Strong in spite of the fact that I was dying by slow degrees. I was supposed to be the support for others, not the other way around. 

There was this one day when I was having a BAD day to end all bad days. As we trooped in for a faculty meeting at the end of this long, no-good, horrible, bad day, all I could do was complain. I complained about my students. I complained about not having enough time. I complained about having to grade so many assignments. I complained about.....I was grumpy and I sounded, looked, and acted grumpy. No matter what was said during the meeting, I had a negative comment that I refused to keep to myself. 

Once the meeting was over, I took my time gathering my things together to leave. Within a few short moments, I was left alone in the room with my boss' wife. She moved to stand beside me, laid her hand on my shoulder, and gently and quietly asked me, "Polly, what's really going on?"

And the floodgates opened. I bawled. I sobbed. I snotted. I even screamed quite a bit. It had only been a few short months since we'd lost our precious James Isaac and I had been filling my days with busy-ness in an attempt to deal with my grief. All it took was one gentle word from a loving friend to help start me on a different path.

It was a start. Unfortunately, the path I started on that day took a lot of side treks as well as did a lot of backtracking over the next 10+ years. But I will always remember Mrs. Gruver being so perceptive of my true heart that horrible afternoon. 

Not everyone is as perceptive, though, so it is vitally important that we tell others that we're NOT ok when we're really NOT ok.

3. Directly from #2, I have also learned to lean on and trust my friends, family, and loved ones. I especially have learned to trust that they will love me no matter what--unconditionally. Yes, there was a fear in me that if I wasn't the strong Christian woman I expected myself to be that the people around me would love and respect me less. 

Oh, how easily we allow ourselves to believe and justify the lies of the enemy!!!

I have always been one who believes and lives the adage that honesty is the best policy. For most of my life, I have been completely unable to lie. I have "tells" when I lie and they're pretty obvious. I became a Master, though, at convincing everyone around me--except those most perceptive like Mrs. Gruver--that I was just fine when, in reality, I was a quivering, pathetic mess. All I wanted was for everyone to love me. And I honestly believed that if I didn't hold myself together, no one would love--or respect--me anymore. 

Once I realized the lies of such thinking, it has been proven time and again how very much my friends, family, and loved ones actually do love me--unconditionally. And let me just say, it feels GOOD to be so loved!!!!

*To be continued.....

Let's each Sing our own Song

Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist: "The world will tell you how to live, if you let it. Don't let it. Take up your space. Raise your voice. Sing your song. This is your chance to make or remake a life that thrills you" (104).

Why is it that sometimes we need "permission" to live our lives as WE see fit rather than as everyone else sees fit?! My counselor has been telling me for years that I have to make my own life; I have to do what I need to do for Polly and quit worrying about whether or not what I do pleases anyone other than Polly--and God. (I feel that God's approval goes without saying, but sometimes I need to be sure I clarify that because without Him, I am nothing.) 

Part of what added to Shauna's anxiety, as she describes in her book, was her attempt at living to please everyone but herself--what SHE wanted in life. She told herself, or as I see it--she allowed herself to believe lies from the enemy, that if it was something that came available, God must have opened the door, so it was her responsibility to walk through it--every time.

I can relate!!! 

You????

I've been offered a job that I know I'd love, but yet I'm very happy and fulfilled where I am. Well, it must be from God, so I'd better quit where I am and accept the new job....right?!

Isn't that how we tend to think??? It's one way we have always felt the Lord telling us what He wants us to do, isn't it? I know it has been for me--many times in the past. Thankfully, most of the time the doors that have opened that I've walked through have been the "right" doors for me at those times of my life, but there have been a few times when I felt that just because such-and-such opportunity arose that it must be from God. Maybe it was, but that didn't necessarily mean I HAD to accept. 

For example, when my husband and I first moved to Missouri, I applied for jobs EVERYWHERE. The only type of job I could get, though--even though I already had my BS in English Education and was almost finished with my MA--was as an administrative assistant. I took what I was able to get and learned a lot from the jobs I had, especially about computers. But my heart was in teaching, so I continued to try to get a job as a teacher throughout the time we lived in Missouri. Then, within a week after making the decision to move back to North Carolina, I received a call from the college my husband was attending, asking me if I still wanted a position with them. As honored as I was that they finally called me, I knew in my heart-of-hearts, deep down in my soul that moving back to North Carolina was the best choice for my husband and me.

It was difficult, but I turned down the job offer.

I believe that God allows opportunities to open up for us, but He leaves it up to us as to whether or not we accept/receive it. I don't believe it's disobedience to Him and what He has for us if we go in a different direction. My God is a God of free will. He wants us to CHOOSE Him above ALL. When we choose one door over another, He honors us for our decision because we took the time to seek Him and because we work as unto Him and not for ourselves. 

Yes, sometimes we realize that we made a mistake, but most of the time, I believe that God simply wants us to do the thing that He has placed in our hearts to do. He wants us to SING OUR SONG. He wants ME to sing MY OWN song. My song is probably different from your song. That doesn't mean we can't both sing our songs. It simply means that both CHOOSING to SING!!!

I LOVE to sing even though I may not have a voice others want to

listen to. I read a book once that talked about how we don't want to come to the end of our lives with our song still in our hearts. So even if your song is different from my song, let's join our voices in song and God Himself will take care of the harmony!!!!

I DARE you to DO the THING that God has called you to do!!!

What are you swinging at?

One of my favorite passages in the Bible is Ephesians 6:10-18 about the Armor of God. In recent months, one part that has stood out to me as it never has before are the words "so that you may be able to STAND FIRM." I continued to ponder that phrase as I began re-reading my Bible through this year. I have pleasantly surprised to find that throughout the whole Bible, God has told His people that He would do the fighting for them (us)--all we have to do is be battle-ready and to STAND and watch Him defeat the enemy, to rescue us!

I have read my Bible through a number of times throughout the 40+ years I have been a child of God, but these passages have never stood out to me as much as they have in recent months. If you've been keeping up with this blog, you know my story and you are aware of the fiery trials I have been through. (If you haven't been keeping up with it, feel free to go back and peruse my old posts--at your discretion.)

It has become clear to me over these recent years that I have put on my armor, but instead of STANDING firm and being battle-ready, I have rushed into the fray in a feeble attempt to fight an enemy that my God has already defeated! I'm essentially standing in the middle of a battlefield, blindly and uselessly swinging my sword around at nothing but air! The enemy is already on the ground. The battle has already been won, but I seem to need to keep fighting. 

It's absolutely ridiculous!

Remember that scene in Robin Hood: Men in Tights where Blinkin is fighting a post with his sword? Yeah. It's like that.

Or the scene from Don Quixote when Don Quixote pathetically battles a windmill?! 

I imagine God up in Heaven shaking His head with a smile and a chuckle as He watches us attempt to battle the enemy ourselves when He's already defeated the enemy. And it is funny--once we realize how ridiculous we are. In the moment, though, it's not so funny as I think I'm doing the right thing.

But once I realize that God not only is fighting for me, but that He has already fought the battle and won, the freedom and peace and joy that floods my soul is unlike anything I've experienced! 

Exodus 14:13, NLT
"But Moses told the people, 'Don't be afraid. Just STAND STILL (emphasis mine) and watch the Lord rescue you today."

Our job, if you will allow me to use that term, is just to STAND! When we attempt to fight, we are battling NOTHING because the battle has already been won by our God who rescues!!!

That's worth a shout of HALLELUJAH!!!