The Sabbath Day

Sabbath Day Sacrament Meeting Talk

September 15, 2013

I’m so grateful for this opportunity I have had to think about the Sabbath day, and what it means to keep it holy. It sparked a wonderful conversation on social media which then bled into a beautiful conversation with my daughter and family.  I believe that talks are for the speaker to learn, and I have learned.

What have we been told about the Sabbath Day?  On the Youth page of LDS.org, it says:

“Honoring the Sabbath day includes attending all your Church meetings.  Go to sacrament meeting prepared to worship the Lord and partake worthily of the sacrament.  During sacrament meeting, be reverent and willing to learn.  Refrain from activities that would distract you or others during this sacred meeting.  Be on time for your meetings.  As you do these things, you invite the Spirit of the Lord to be with you.”

It goes on to suggest some appropriate activities:

“. . . spending quiet time with your family, studying the gospel, fulfilling your Church callings and responsibilities, serving others, writing letters, writing in your journal, and doing family history”

Then it lists things it deems inappropriate:

“Sunday is not a day for shopping, recreation, or athletic events.  Do not seek entertainment or make purchases on this day.  Whenever possible, choose a job that does not require you to work on Sundays.”

In order to prepare for this talk, I followed my good friend, Sarah Williams’, example and asked an open question on Facebook asking for input as to how people feel about the Sabbath Day.  What I found was interesting, and not all that unexpected.  First of all, atypically, I received input from a darling friend that I met at girls’ camp this year.  She said that Sunday is her favorite day of the week.  She “view[s] the Sabbath as a day to get closer to family, relax, and feel the spirit.”  She continues, “I love spending time with my siblings. . . becoming closer friends while we look and think about all the amazing things Heavenly Father created.”  I also heard from another friend, a young man who is a (sort-of) recently returned missionary.  He says, “I flippin love Sundays!  No work, no school, just a day of rest.  I think I’d go crazy without it.”  He adds, “I’ve tried to follow the example of the Nephites and use church to be ‘edified and strengthened together.’  Moroni 6 baby.”  His words, not mine.

I loved hearing from these awesome friends!!  I’m so happy they seem to have found a great balance in their lives in their Sunday worship. What a blessing for them. However, their responses seem to be atypical, and not the norm.  What I found most of all, was a lot of conflicted feelings about the Sabbath day.    One youth said, “I like church, but sacrament meeting often has speakers that just ramble.  It’s kind of boring.” Most moms talked about how difficult it is to round up little ones and even get them to church.  One of my former students said, “I feel that the season I am in right now, a mom with four kids a dog and a husband . . I give myself a high five if I can get us all to church on time.” Another friend said, “My kids will tell you straight up that they hate Sundays.” They feel their parents are too busy with church callings and don’t have enough time for family. One responder was particularly astute.  She said, “I like the IDEA of the Sabbath Day – it provides time for me to study gospel principles, write in my journal, and just relax.  In all actuality, [though] when I come home from church, I’m somewhat burned out as far as gospel stuff goes since I have just exposed myself to gospel teachings for 3 straight hours.  Since I tend to focus on what I’m doing wrong, Sundays have become guilt days for me of late.  All I can think about is what I’m not doing and how I’d like to be doing [those things], but I don’t have the energy or the desire.  And I get tired of “relaxing” after about an hour because I feel like I’m not getting anything done.”  She had several people agree with her. 

I would like to focus on her comments for a moment.  If I may, I would like to use an analogy.  On Fast Sunday, we refrain from eating partly to remind us how important it is to feed our bodies, and how much we rely on food and water to keep our bodies moving and functioning properly.  This is also used to remind us how important it is to also constantly feed our spirits.  That, just like our bodies need continual nourishment, our spirits also need continual nourishment.  So, we sometimes compare our bodies to our spirits, since they are halves of a perfect whole.  Continuing that train of thought, let’s say Sundays are a day of spiritual feasting, full of 3 hours of concentrated church worship, followed by reading scriptures, writing in journals, doing family history work, writing letters to missionaries, reading the lessons for the next Sunday, and intense personal prayer and pondering.  Now, since our bodies are the other half of the perfect whole, let’s pretend Mondays are a day of physical feasting.  To me, this idea is like going to Chuck-A-Rama, eating for 3 solid hours, then staying at the restaurant pondering the meal, preparing for the next meal, and continuing to feast for the rest of the day.  That makes me sick just thinking about it.  And I really really like Chuck-A-Rama rolls smothered in honey butter.  However, if I ate that much for that long, even the rolls would make my stomach turn. In addition to being so full for that day, do you think the rolls will still sound appealing the next day, or the next?  So, something that was delicious to me would now become nausea inducing.

May we talk for just a bit about balance in body and spirit?  I love to eat, but I don’t eat constantly one day, then fast for the rest of the week.  Not healthy.  I love to run, well, I love to be done with a run.  But, I don’t run 20 miles one day, then not run the rest of the week.  It’s not healthy.  I will soon hate running, not to mention I will get injured toot sweet.  So, may I suggest that when we are spiritually full, forcing an extra piece of spiritual chocolate cake down our gullets is not going to be helpful to us.  In fact, it just might make us spiritually throw-up.  Also, is it possible that it will also make spiritual things sound less delicious, less desirable the next day or the next?  I’m not trying to say that we should not do those wonderful suggestions on the Sabbath day checklist.  Should we read our scriptures on Sunday?  Yes!  May I suggest, however, that we read our scriptures a little bit every day instead of gorging on Sundays, and then fasting the rest of the week?  It feeds our spirits in a beautiful way.  Should we write in our journals?  Probably!  I stink at this particular Sunday checklist item.  But, I know some who are “religious” journal writers and this feeds them.  Should we go to church on Sunday?  Yes!  It is there that we partake of the healing sacrament.  That is where we are strengthened and taught.  It is where we get to worship our Heavenly Father with our friends and neighbors, members of our extended families. There were other “should”s at the beginning of my talk, we all know them. May I say, though, if we are sincerely trying to be spiritually fed on Sunday, which this responder sounds like she is, I trust her to listen to her internal spiritual meter to know when her allotment of should-s are done, and she is FULL for the day.  I’m also not saying that after she is full, the Sabbath day is over for her.  What I am suggesting is that now, she gets to think about OTHER things that spiritually feed her.  What OTHER things can she do?

This is the slightly dangerous part.  The dangerous part to which I’m referring, is using a word that I have just now used three times:  SHOULD.  Should is one of my least favorite words.  It is full of guilt.  I just talked about the big “should”s: going to church, reading scriptures, etc.  However, sometimes we use that word to tell someone what they SHOULD or SHOULD NOT do on Sundays.  Remember the young woman that I met at girls’ camp:  the one who said she LOVES Sundays because it is a day of spiritual renewal for her?  I’m not going to tell you the specific things she does on Sundays, because you might be tempted to use your “should” marker, and use it to mark which things on her list she SHOULD do, and which things she SHOULDN’T do. 

L Tom Perry said, in a New Era article dated July 2010, “There appear to be three things that the Lord would require of us in keeping His day holy:

1.     To keep ourselves unspotted from the world. [meaning to] stay away from worldly places on the Sabbath
2.     To go to the house of prayer and partake of the sacrament.
3.     To rest from our labors.”

It sounds to me that there is a lot of room left open for us to make good decisions as to what to do with the rest of our Sabbath worship.  Here we get to use one of my favorite words:  INTENT.  What is our intent?  Is our intent to continue our Sabbath worship, or are we trying to justify something we just want to do?  Is our intent is to refresh ourselves like it says in Exodus 31:16-17:

16 Wherefore the children of Israel shall keep the sabbath, to observe the sabbath throughout their generations, for a perpetual covenant.
 17 It is a sign between me and the children of Israel for ever: for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day he rested, and was refreshed.

Isn’t that beautiful.  The Lord was “refreshed” by his rest on the Sabbath.  Do we feel “refreshed” by our worship?  If so, wonderful.  If not, what can we do that we can be renewed body, mind and spirit so we are spiritually full and ready for the coming week?

The wonderful thing that many responders to the Facebook question said, was that their favorite part of Sunday is spending time with family.  For example, one busy mom offered, “I’ll confess it’s not my favorite day of the week.  I still have to cook dinner and load the dishwasher, hardly a rest for me, but at least I don’t dread it like I used to. . . I will say that my favorite time on Sundays is late in the evening when Dad’s home from meetings and we get our one weekly sit-down meal as a family.”  Or, one mom whose children are grown and who have mostly left home, said, “At my age, what I enjoy most about Sunday is sitting next to my daughter during Sacrament meeting . . . just being close for a few minutes.  We rush through life and I now appreciate more than ever those few and far between moments with any of my children.”  Another busy mom added, “when [the kids] were a little older, I loved Sundays because they would snuggle up with me and I’d read to them for hours after church.”  Being with family, was the theme, but the how and where they were with their families was very different.  Their intent was to draw closer as a family.  Beautiful.

So, I’m not going to tell my dear friend what she should do with the rest of her Sabbath day, after she feels full.  I trust her to think about her intent, make a good decision, and let go of her guilt.  I’m guessing that Heavenly Father knows her and knows her intent, that it is good, as she is good.  We have the gift of choice.  We are blessed to not live during the time of the Mosaic laws, where the children of Israel were given lists and lists of things they could and couldn’t do on Sundays, with rules galore; but instead, we live with the higher laws of our Savior, Jesus Christ, where He trusts us to use our good intent to serve Him, and worship our Father in Heaven in part by keeping the Sabbath day holy.  What an amazing gift.

Out of the Darkness

Every time I write a blog post, I swear it will be my last one.  But then an idea will strike me hard and my mind starts racing.  Like Holden Caulfield, I think in a stream of consciousness (however, mine is with considerably fewer swear words).  In order to slow down my brain and process my thoughts, I seem to need to write.  As I was stepping into the shower this morning, I was thinking about a brief reference I made the other day to something I have said in my blog.  That led to thinking about the different posts in my blog and the topics I have discussed.  In particular, I thought about my “Into the Darkness” post.  I’ve never gone back to read it again, and I don’t know if or when I will do so, but the question that came to mind is, “Are you now OUT of the darkness?”  I thought about what it felt like to be IN the darkness, and my immediate answer became obvious and clear:  YES, I AM out of the darkness.  That answer came with a big, deep, relieved sigh.  However, something was wrong, off.  I don’t at all feel like I did two and a half years ago before I began my unintentional journey.  I feel so radically different than I did then.  And then, the answer – or at least the analogy – came to mind of the hobbits from The Lord of the Rings. Frodo, Samwise Gamgee, Merry and Pippen, came home from their perilous journey to Mount Doom.  They survived!  They were successful in their quest!   They destroyed the ring!  Things can now go back to the way they were before!!  Right?  I love how Peter Jackson portrayed these four friends as they sit in Frodo and Sam’s favorite pub.  Everyone else around them laughs and drinks and behaves as if nothing has changed - because for them, nothing has (yes, I know it’s different in the book, stick with the analogy purists).  However, for these four friends, everything is different.  The places they have been, the battles they have been forced to wage externally and internally, have forever changed them.  I realized this morning that I recognized the looks on their faces as they looked around at the people in the pub.  They seem slightly awed that everyone seemed to be going about living their lives as if nothing has changed.  They realize that they are the same hobbits as they have always been, and yet, they are now very VERY different.

I feel like these characters (hopefully not Frodo though, I still think Sam should have just pushed him into the lava, ring and all, when he refused to throw it in to be destroyed once and for all, but I digress).  I feel like I have fought, and mostly won, the internal battles I was forced to wage.  All of the surprising, new fears have been sent on their way to find new homes.  I hope they will be kinder to their new hosts.  So, I won.  Right?  Yes, and . . . yes.  However, because of the journey I travelled, I will forever be different. Like the returning hobbits, I look around and see others, and it seems to me that nothing has changed for them, yet everything about me, internally, has changed:  how I see other people, how I see myself, how I see my future, how I see my family and friends, how I interact with others, what I am interested in, how I spend my time.  A song I like to sing from the musical, “Ragtime”, sums it up perfectly, “We can never go back to before.”  Robert Frost said, “The best way out is always through.”  Through means we begin on one end, travel through something, and then continue on our way.  We don’t loop back and pick up where we left off before beginning the trial.  I have had close friends say that I seem different.  I am.  For good or for bad, I will forever be different.  Hopefully I will be more compassionate, less judgmental, more patient – with God and myself, more open, more quiet, a better listener . . .  and more still.

Learning to Love the Beast

"You can't hate the Beast and expect to beat it; the only way to truly conquer something, as every great philosopher & geneticist will tell you, is to love it."  Born to Run by Christopher McDougall p. 125.

 

When I read that last December, I groaned.  "Please don't let it be true," I thought.  There is no way I will ever love, or like, or appreciate, or even tolerate this "Beast".  That would mean that I will never conquer it.  No way!  That has to be wrong.  I tried to just ignore it.  But, the quote wouldn't go away.  It was always hovering in the shadows of my mind.  Unbidden, it would quietly surface just to remind me it was still there.  I didn't even know I had this particular Beast:  fear.  In fact, I arrogantly would have insisted that I didn't really have any fears of note.  I mean, I knew I had a fear of jumping off of high things without a harness (cliffs, diving boards, very tall rocks).  I also have discovered a fear of watching my kids hiking on dangerous paths (Dave took Casey and Bryn hiking up Angel's Landing in Zion National Park, I stayed back so my anxiety wouldn't be infectious).  However, other than these perfectly rational fears ;), I truly wouldn't have been able to list any others.  
 

For the last two years, God, in His infinite wisdom and goodness, has seen fit to show me all new fears in exquisite detail.  In true Kerstin fashion, I fought and fought against these fears.  It's not that I was in denial about them.  Since they were so glaringly obvious, and shown to me in crystal clear HD,  I couldn't be in denial about them.  I felt the weight of the fears like a heavy homemade quilt wrapping every part of me in its "comfort," stifling my sometimes claustrophobic-prone awareness.  I can only say I tried to push the quilt off, or at least find an opening to catch a deep breath or two.  I found, however, that trying to fight it was like trying to fight summer humidity in Illinois.  I was able to find reprieves, though, smaller and shorter at first, eventually growing into longer and longer stretches of contentment.  However, I always knew that I was just in a temperature-controlled environment.  I always knew the humidity was just waiting for me outside the door.


 

Just recently, I was thinking about my humid nemesis.  But this time when I thought about it, I had a new and very welcome thought:  not only have I come to a peace with my fear, I have actually come to love it.  Truly love it.  I have discovered that I am no longer afraid of it, in fact, I just don't need it anymore.  Contented Sigh.  These last two years have put into perfect clarity what I need, what is bonus, and what is just extra stuff I don't need or even want anymore.  Turns out this particular Beast won't destroy me after all -- at least not today.  Be still.  Beautiful!

I Am One Of "Those" Women

"What was one of your favorite parts of General Conference?" the Gospel Doctrine teacher asked.

"I liked President Packer's poem," sweet neighborhood sister said.

We all nodded.

"I liked Elder Holland's talk." another neighborhood friend offered.

This time our nods were more emphatic.

"I loved the fact that two women gave prayers for the first time." I said.

Chirp, chirp.

Next, a class member cracked a joke, and many in the class giggled. "Oh, brother, she is one of "those" women," it felt to me they all thought, as, in my mind, they all did their own internal eye roll. I was not terribly shocked, but admittedly, very disappointed.

I've been one of "those" women ever since I was a child. My brothers can attest that I used to sit at the kitchen table and complain about the inequalities of boys and girls in the world. For the child I was, I used to limit my complaints to things I thought my brothers got, and then compare them to the things I felt like I didn't get. For example, the boys "got" to participate in Scouts. Ok, I didn't know then that that could be a reward or a punishment depending on the boy, and/or the activity or merit badge on which they were working. Additionally, the boys in my ward got to go to Lake Powell every year for a week as an activity. They stayed on a houseboat, water-skied, cliff jumped off of ridiculously high cliffs (ok, that didn't sound fun, it sounded terrifying), and slept and ate to their hearts’ content. The young women in our ward went to wilderness camp. I kid you not.

Also, I was raised in a very traditional home. My dad spent his days (and most nights) at work or at church. My mom spent her days working, taking care of all seven of us kids, cleaning the house, and preparing all meals. I'll never forget one particular night. Mom was bustling around trying to get dinner on the table with help from some of the kids. Dad was sitting at the table reading the paper and waiting for dinner to be served. After we had said the prayer and started passing the food, my dad picked up his glass, pretended to drink the empty liquid from his cup, and loudly said, "This water is delicious" or something to that effect. Mom, jumped up, giggled and quickly set about to fix her "mistake" of not putting something to drink on the table. I was mortified. "Get it yourself, Dad!" I angrily retorted -- in my head. Not only that, but, since there were four boys and three girls in our home, it was easy to see if the jobs in the home were gender specific. Some were not: cleaning the bathrooms, vacuuming, dusting, dishes. Some, most definitely were: mowing the lawn, weeding, cleaning the kitchen, dishes when guests were present. I'm sure you can guess which gender did which chore.

As I got older, I started to recognize these things as male privilege vs. female privilege. That is a whole other post which I will not venture into now. But, suffice it to say, I have been keenly aware of gender differences for a very long time. I started to feel bad about how attentively I focused on these differences until Dave and I started to discuss all of the other "those" women in church history. Biblically, Rebekah had to trick Isaac into giving the birthright to the "right" son, Jacob. Emma Smith was a wonderful support to Joseph and yet there were several times she disagreed with him, on some very big doctrinal issues. She also was a very powerful woman as the first Relief Society President. Then there was Eliza R. Snow and Mary Fielding Smith, just to name a few, and my favorite, Eve. The Lord needed an Adam, a person of obedience, in the Garden of Eden, and, he needed an Eve, a person who questioned. God needed both of them to further His plan. If not for Eve, they would still be in the Garden. They were equal partners with different responsibilities; a perfect balance between obedience and question.

I so believe that men and women are equal in importance in God's plan. I believe their differences are like two pieces in a puzzle, they fit together to form a perfect whole. I also believe church doctrine supports this philosophy. We are told again and again, in talk after talk, that women are equal to men, wives are equal to husbands. Unfortunately, many of our traditions, and church culture in general, seem to contradict this teaching, or at least they don't support it. For example, there are still stakes and wards where women are not invited to give the opening prayer in their sacrament meetings, even though it specifically states in the Church Handbook, given to every ward leader, men AND women should be invited to give both opening and closing prayers in any and all meetings. Yet, for 182 sessions of General Conference, there has never been a woman who has been invited to give either the invocation or the benediction. It's my understanding that there were letters written by several women to the Brethren pleading with them to invite a woman to offer a prayer in that very public setting. Many women felt that if women were invited to give prayers in General Conference, it would send a strong message. In a beautiful, meaningful, and quiet way, that request was granted. Saturday morning during the 183rd session of General Conference for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a woman offered the closing prayer. Then, on Sunday afternoon, a woman gave the opening prayer! Either the Brethren caved to the pressure of "those" women, or they decided that there had been an incorrect tradition that needed to change, or it was a revelation that the time had come to recognize women in a small, but important way. I have never known the Brethren to "cave" on anything. So, an historic decision was made.

When, they announced that a woman was giving the closing prayer, I cheered. Then, when she prayed (who is she? I don't even remember. It doesn't matter, really), I held Casey's hand and cried. History.

What was one of my favorite parts of General Conference? Without sarcasm, and without guile, one of my favorite parts was the historic invitation to a woman to offer up a prayer on behalf of us all, men and women, during a general conference of the church.

As a beautiful postscript, our Stake Conference was just held last weekend. Who gave the opening prayers at both the adult session on Saturday night, and the general session on Sunday morning? Women! Luckily, I have a wonderful Stake President who supports and loves "those" women.

My Epiphany

I thought I was done with my blog. I haven't felt drawn to write for some time now. I certainly have had much on my mind, but I have been lucky enough to have not only my fabulous husband, Dave, to talk to, but amazing friends as well. These friends let me dive straight into the deepest end of any ocean (ok, pool, since I am afraid of open water swimming) and talk about anything and everything, including and most especially, topics most Mormons refuse to even think about much less discuss.

However, I feel like I have had such an epiphany in the last day or so that my mind is whirring. I have so much on my mind, I want to see if can put it in writing: to flesh out the specifics on my own before I have another discussion. Besides, in person, this would dominate the discussion for far too long.

I have a hard time sitting still, I have too much of my mother in me.  I love to be very scheduled.  It helps me feel like I am actively engaged in doing, in learning.  I usually struggle finding the right balance of being just the right amount of busy, and the right amount of being available to be with my family.  Usually I don’t find the line until I cross over it and find I am on the “much too busy” side of the line.  Because of this need to always be working toward something, I’m always on the lookout for things that interest me.  Over the last several years, I have pursued several different avenues of interest for me, only to have each door close one after another, again and again. I won't go into specifics here because it doesn't matter what they were.  I had some time on my hands and was itching to fill it with the preparation I KNEW was going to be necessary for whatever was going to happen NEXT in my life. Then, this last year, it seemed like I was getting a more specific and pointed direction, perhaps from God, to "Be Still".  One day, I was watching a show on television, and the lead singer of The Fray sang their new song, "Be Still", which hit me hard; it went right to my gut.  Then, I went to church, and the song chosen for the congregation to sing was "Be Still My Soul"; again, a strong reaction.  Soon after, a friend gave me the gift of a bracelet on which was engraved, yup, you guessed it, "Be Still and Know That I Am God". These are just three of many reminders. All coincidences? Yup, probably. But to me, it seemed like a message. It felt good when I thought about it, so I decided that God was trying to tell me something. I was pretty sure what it meant: "Be still and just be patient". I was sure something was coming. I speculated that maybe I needed to save up some energy because something big must be imminent. . . I was sure it was right around the corner. . . Any day now. . . um. . . Weeks went by, then months, then a year and still counting.

Then, the other morning it hit me, maybe the message isn't "Be still and be patient because something else is coming". Maybe the message has been "Be still and just appreciate where you are!" What a concept! It came rushing at me all at once how incredibly lucky I am! Almost without fail, every morning I get to run or bike with Dave. I get an hour of uninterrupted discussion along with the motivation to stay in shape. Twice a week, Casey, my oldest daughter, even joins us. Then, I get to walk my youngest daughter to her school since that is also where I work. We get to talk about the upcoming day and anything else on her mind.  At work, I teach reading intervention to 21 students ranging from 1st grade to 4th grade. I adore my students and most of the time I enjoy trying desperately to help them learn to read. They are difficult, wonderful, frustrating, sweet, confusing, endearing, challenging children.

For a long time, it seemed like it wasn't enough. Since my degree and license are in a different field of education, I have felt like I should have been looking for a teaching position in that different field.  However, I realized this morning that the benefits to this job are huge. I have no meetings I have to attend, no professional development that is required of me, no extended lesson plans to prepare, nothing to grade. Also, I get to come home every day at 12:00. My kids come home around 3:00, so I have three hours to myself every day.

 I used to feel guilty about having this time on my hands. Surely, I should spend that time preparing for my next job, my next church calling, my next college degree, working on my music. Then I realized, right now, I have time to go to lunch with a friend, study scriptures, go to yoga class, go to the temple, work on finances, clean the house, practice the piano or sing (ok I don't practice, but I have time to if I want to), take a nap, read a book -- I've read book after delicious book --  prepare dinner since I'm loving to cook, not just bake, again. Then, when the kids come home, I have time to drive them to ballet, to violin, pick them up from an activity, take them to or pick them up from a friend's house. Then, when things settle down in the evening, we are all together as a family. We spend most nights like that, all together. Sometimes we watch a show, usually a Netflix series of the moment. Sometimes we are just home, hanging out together talking with and listening to each other. I get to do all of these things without worrying about homework from a class I'm taking, lesson plans to prepare for the next class I'm teaching, church callings that I just can't master.

I used to feel like if I didn't have something concrete to show for my time, I was failing.  If I didn’t have a CD of finished music, another degree to my name, more worldly recognition, more, more, more, than I was being stagnant and lazy. I finally realized that right now, I get to be a teacher – it’s in my blood, who I am -- and more importantly, I get to be a mom.  I love my relationships with my three girls. Being a mother is the best thing I have ever done, and the best thing I will ever do.  I never want to lose focus of that again.

Best of all, with this extra time Dave and I have at night now (Dave used to have a busy church assignment which ate up a chunk of his time every week), we spend a TON of time together.  We go anywhere and everywhere together.  Most errands are done side by side.  We also go out three times a week to catch a quick bite and just talk. We know each other top to bottom, inside and out, the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly. We know just about everything that there is to know about ourselves and each other. But then, of course, there is much more to discover, we just haven't unearthed it yet.  He is my best and dearest friend.

I realized that I have everything, and yet for some reason, I still wanted more.  How ungrateful.  How foolish.  

BE STILL. Oh, ok, now I get it. Nice!