Not so Deserving

Why is it that there are always so many more books I want to read than hours in the day?

    This morning, as I was walking out the door for work, I had the urge to grab a book just in case I got a minute to read. I knew that moment wouldn't come but it was like choosing to leave a loved friend at home instead of taking her to coffee and spending hours in deep conversation.

    On my way home from work yesterday I stopped by the library to pick up the book they were holding for me (Which just so happened to be The Hunger Games! Excited!!) and told Hank that I intended to check out only that book. Well, our library is really smart. You see, when you walk in there is this beautiful shelf full of shiny, new books! Who could resist browsing? I certainly cannot.

    So, I ended up with a mini stack (four books) and I am so excited to dive in. This morning I had the urge to stay home all day and just read. It is a Friday after all, and I am usually a bit worn out by this point. But then I arrived at work and threw myself into the activity and long list of things to do and I was thankful (most of the time) for a purpose, a person to help, a file to organize.

      The Lord knew we would need rest and times of refreshing. He knew we would need a break from the everyday 'grind.' But he really only created one day of rest out of seven. Sometimes I get to thinking I deserve a break. Even when I am at work, I think I deserve a five minute break to surf the internet or stare off into space or make myself a cup of coffee or shoot the breeze with my coworkers. All of these things aren't bad and I quite like getting to know my coworkers, but do I really deserve it?

     My current read is one I would HIGHLY RECOMMEND to anyone. Oh my goodness. So good.

My mom let me borrow Kisses From Katie, a book about a nineteen year old who felt the call of the Lord and obeyed. Katie Davis is from Nashville, Tennessee and like a dear friend of mine from that part of the world- absolutely radiates with a sweet love for Jesus. That Love leads her into the most amazing, sometimes difficult, and world changing places. She moved to Uganda after high school and now runs a ministry and has adopted thirteen daughters! Now at 22, she is a full-time mom. Wow.

    One of the things I most admire is her absolute reliance on the Lord. She says repeatedly that He is the one who built the ministry, who brought all the daughters into her life, who gives her the strength and love to pour out on so many people. Some of the stories she tells blow me away. It is so evident that she is following the Lord because no one would have such wisdom without a deep communion with Him.

    She describes days where she would like to wear jeans or take an hour to read alone or shut her gate and have one meal where someone doesn't come knocking because they are sick or in need. But then she says this:

 "I sometimes got caught up in "I deserve this" moments. I still do. I have moments when I compare myself to other people and trick myself into believing that I am doing pretty well. There are still moments when I believe that I should be able to relax and do nothing some afternoons, instead of taking care of one more sick person...The truth is that these thoughts are not at all scriptural. Nowhere in the Bible does it say that I deserve a reward here on earth. Colossians 3:23 says 'Whatever you do work at it with all your heart.' It does not end in, 'And after this hard work you deserve a long hot bath and some 'me time.' It does end with, 'Since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a result.'" (Kisses from Katie, pg 173)

Wow. I caught myself in so many of these moments today. Thinking I deserved a nap or another piece of chocolate, or a moment when someone wasn't asking me to do something.

    There is so much I don't deserve and when I look at life through grace colored lenses, I see that it is all, in fact, a gift. A gift from a good good Daddy God who loves deeply and knows my every whim. And it is all grace when my day is long and stressful because he is with me, just as it is all grace when my day consists of a comfy couch and a stack of books.

Filling the Void

Hi, this is Hank, Kelsey's husband.  I told Kelsey I had some ideas to blog about and she let me guest post on her blog.  This may happen on occasion, but don't worry, Kelsey will be back in full swing tomorrow.


Have you ever thought about the history of rock music?  Just of popular music in general, I guess.  It blows me away sometimes how, with all the songs that are out there, there are still originals being created today.  No two songs sound exactly alike.

Think about the immense talent that singers, songwriters, bands, and musicians in general have been given.  They didn't just get their talent.  It was given to them, created into them in their mothers' wombs.  God put a desire in each and every one of them to sing, play, write, and perform.  Many artists live for the performance, thrive off that energy from the crowd.  For a short time, it fills them, makes them whole.

But what about the other times?  What about in the hotel, on the tour bus, eating dinner after a show.  What makes them whole then?  What fills them?  Sadly, all the wrong things.  Drugs, women (for guy bands), men (for chick bands), alcohol, porn, sex, violence (no, I'm not a pacifist, but finding pleasure in violence is wrong), hate.  You can hear it in some of their music.

Jim Morrison of The Doors

I was talking to a friend today and that conversation actually got me thinking about music.  He was telling me about some of the bands he liked in high school (he's in his 50s).  Bands like The Doors, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, The Who, Eric Clapton, Elton John, Jimi Hendrix, to name a few.  After some of them, he told me about the deaths of the band members.  Keith Moon and John Entwistle of The Who both died of drug overdoses.  Jim Morrison of The Doors died in Paris at age 27.  He was found in his hotel room bathtub, but no autopsy was done by the French.  There is no doubt that drugs played into his death.  Jimi Hendrix passed out from a drug trip, then threw up while he was unconscious.  He choked on his own vomit, since he was lying on his back when he threw up.  Elvis died in a pool of his own vomit in his bathroom at Graceland, also from a drug trip.  Just a side note, but by the time he died, Elvis was so grossly obese and had so many health problems, he couldn't even get out of his hotel room bed for a concert in Baton Rouge, LA.  Ray Charles had drug problems.  Johnny Cash did as well.  I Googled musicians who had drug related deaths.  I got 4.73 million results.  That was rockstars, not even actors or athletes.

Why do so many rockstars fall into drugs?  Why are so many angry and full of hate?  They have this immense talent that has been given to them and yet they kill themselves to fill this void that they have.  It's the same void that you and I have, the same one everyone has.  Nothing in this world can ever fill it.  No screaming crowd, no amount of sex, drugs, alcohol, or porn.  That all just feeds into a desire for more and fosters deep addictions.

Think about it.  Most average people want to be famous, to have money, to have people know them, to be able to do anything and go anywhere.  These artists had that, yet they still weren't happy.  Money, fame, and lack of responsibility doesn't lead to happiness.  It doesn't fill the void in your soul.

You know what all those musicians needed?

They needed God.  God is the only one who can fill that void in a person's soul.  That void is specifically shaped so that he is the only one that can fit into it to fill it.  No amount of money, drugs, alcohol, anger, sex, fame or anything else will ever fill it up.  You want happiness?  Quit trying to become a millionaire and spend some time getting right with God.  Ask him what he wants you to do.  Ask him what he has in store for your life.  Keep asking.  You might not get an answer right away, but keep asking.  You also may not get an answer you expect.  He created you for a specific purpose.  He has a specific spot on this Earth that only you can fill.  He gave you dreams and desires that will ultimate lead to him being glorified and the world being changed, if only a little bit.

Jimi Hendrix

It starts with surrender, though.  Just think what would have happened if Jim Morrison or Jimi Hendrix had turned to God instead of anger and drugs.  Seriously, that would have been world changing.  The course of history may be different if they had only surrendered to Jesus, giving their lives and dedicating themselves to their true Father.  They were just seeking the wrong things, like so many of us do.  I'm sure they heard of God, heard of Jesus, but figured that everything else was more "fun."

I'm truly terrible at telling people about Jesus.  Honestly, it scares me to no end.  I'm completely comfy talking to other Christians about Christianity, but I'm terrified to tell a lost soul about Jesus.  Jimi Hendrix probably knew a few Christians, maybe even had some in his circle of friends.  But nobody ever spoke up.

I need to speak up.  I need to lift my voice to those in need, even if they don't appear they are in need on the outside.  I need to show them God, since their void is made to be filled by him.  Pray for me, that I would speak up more.  Pray that God will show me opportunities and that I would take them.  I'll pray for you too.  We don't need to go overseas to be missionaries.  We just need to open up our true selves and speak truth to those around us.

To inspire you, go YouTube Jimi Hendrix (listen to that guitar playing) or The Who and just listen to their talent.  In the end, it meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.  It could have meant so much more and had so much more impact had someone just consistently spoken truth to them.

Kissing Confessions

     It's time. I am coming clean.
I mentioned in the Soapbox Post that Hank and I didn't kiss (on the lips) before we got married. Now we were not eunichs, nor were we totally chaste, but we desperately wanted to achieve the goal of saving that first kiss for the alter.
     This didn't keep us from kissing each other on the nose (it is amazing how incredibly romantic that is when it is all you've got!), or rubbing noses (those Eskimos knew what they were doing!), or finding other 'creative' ways of showing affection (Don't use too much imagination in figuring out what 'creative mean!).

      But we did, through high hormones and long absences, manage to save that first kiss. Our families thought we were slightly crazy and friends asked us if we were afraid of an extremely awkward first kiss in front of, um.. everyone. We were stubborn and focused on making it to the alter. We both love a good story and I think we weren't willing to settle on a disappointing climax to our love story. We wanted something epic. For us- that looked like saving that kiss.

Gotta have minty fresh breath for the frist kiss!

     Much to our delight, the relief of all friends and family at our wedding and by the sheer grace of God, that first kiss was anything but awkward. It was AWESOME!

    Afterwards, once we galloped back up the aisle and out through the rain to one of the cabins on site, we made sure to take a moment to step into privacy and bask in the beauty of being married. Hank prayed for us and then we kissed alot. A few kisses in, there comes the tongue.

Gross.

That is all I can say. I am so glad our first kiss was not a french one. I was a little confused. How can people like this so much and how come it is in all the movies??? It's weird.

   Maybe you had an awesome first french kiss experience, but Hank and I decided to save those for perfecting until after the reception.

A few weeks after the wedding, I still couldn't get the hang of it so I decided to do what I always seem to do when I don't know something.

I googled french kissing.

       What I learned was this: it is pretty simple but it takes time. Whew! I thought, At least we're just newbies and it is bound to get better!

      I am happy to say it has. While I am thankful kissing does not always require tongue excercise, every once in a while, it is just fun.

A Date away from To Do's

          We're still figuring out this whole "married dating" thing. Before we got married we were so confident that we would keep pursuing eachother after the knot was tied and that we would never ever put anything above our relationship.

          Funny how easy it is to know it all when you really know nothing at all...

 Turns out Life is Busy. I hate that word because it is thrown around so much and often I feel like it is worn as a badge. I am busy so I must be doing something right. God forbid I have a day with nothing scheduled, with no 'to do' list.

   And yet I find myself, at the end of the day, falling on the sofa next to Hank and lamenting how busy life has become and how hard it is to make time for eachother- for the romantic. It really shouldn't feel busy. Those of you with kids are sighing and shaking your heads, thinking "If they only knew what they have coming." You're right- I don't know. But this season feels busy. And we are still learning how to make time for the spontaneous, for laughter, for relaxation, for a good long conversation, and for Jesus Time. While I am SO thankful we both have good jobs, work seems to take up so much time.

        So this past weekend I planned a date for Hank and me. I recently found an awesome website called Houston on the Cheap. Oh my goodness. If you live in Houston or plan to come to Houston anytime soon- you need to look here. She constantly updates the site with Groupon, Living Social, Daily Deals as well as promotional events that are happening at places around Houston. She even has internet deals!

      Last week Hank and I got free Chik-Fil A sandwiches on Thursday morning and this past weekend I planned my trip to HEB in order to get the free reusable grocery bags they were giving away for Earth Day! Can you tell I LOVE Free stuff? Who doesn't right!?

      So, as I was saying, I planned a date to Discovery Green- a super cool park downtown, to an international grocery store called "Phoenicia", to dinner at a middle eastern restaurant where we had a coupon for $20 worth of food for $10, and then to watch the coolest show at Miller Outdoor Theatre. Everything but the groceries and the food was free!

Enjoying a gorgeous day in downtown Houston

Hank and I being us at Discovery Green Park

     It was so wonderful to get out and spend some time soaking in the culture of this part of Texas, spending time together, and watching Hank get just as excited as I got over the foods at Phoenicia. Seriously, who knew it was so fun to shop for cheese!?

    Life can be super busy sometimes and sometimes I choose to be busy when I should take a little down time. On Sunday, Hank was gone all day flight instructing so I headed to a local park and just read the Word until I was finished. And I didn't fight distractions but let the Lord show me his beauty in the birds and lizards and rambunctious kids playing on the playground. Sure I had a huge list of things that needed to be done. Had I stayed home, I would have stayed busy all day and been royally grumpy by the time Hank got home. But I felt the Spirit nudge me outdoors to enjoy a bit of the gorgeous weather we have had lately and he met me there despite the long list of to-dos I was ignoring.

     So even if Life is Busy, we are learning to make space for eachother and every once in a while we make time to not pay attention to time for a while. To forget the clock and the agenda and just be together and be with our Maker.

Next week Hank is planning the date and I can't wait to see what he has up his sleeve!

Standing on the Ol' Soapbox

      Somehow Hank and I were bequeathed a rather large and tall soap box during our dating years. It came as after we decided not to kiss until marriage and grew taller when we made the leap and said the vows and became man and wife.

     It is not so much that I mind having a soap box because I rather like "knowing what I am talking about" and it is our soap box happens to be something we are box quite passionate about.

  The problem is that there is not much room at the top of our soap box and it sometimes gets a bit scary perching at the top and looking down. Sometimes I realize that, while  I have the soap box for purity and abstinence, I don't know all there is to know about the topic. And perhaps what I do know is what I learned when Hank and I were trying to do it right but still messed up.


     This past weekend Hank and I went to Longview to our fellowship there. We spoke to a group of teens that hold a very special place in both of our hearts. The purpose of the weekend was to light a fire for purity and abstinence in the hearts of the youth groupies. And yet, even as I think of all the things I could have told them and didn't get time to, I realize that God used the preparation and the weekend to teach me new truths and remind of a bunch I had forgotten. He used it to get Hank and I to look at our relationship again with our spiritual eyes sensitive to counterfeit messages and lies that the enemy has so subtly fed us over the past few years.

    God is also in control of what came out of Hank's and my mouth and what actually went in and took root in the hearts of the teens. So I will let that go.

    But hopefully I won't let go of the incredible memories of this weekend. Of the times I almost had to pinch myself because it was so evident that Jesus had prepared the hearts of my girls for what I had to share and that He was consistently working out all the details. I couldn't wipe a goofy grin off my face the whole time because it was just so good returning to these ladies that I got to spent the Sunday mornings and Wednesday evening of the past 4-5 years getting to know and studying the Word together.

    In so many ways, it felt like going home.

We painted pottery and purses and hung out just talking. We watched "A Walk to Remember" and I cried, unashamed of how much that movie still gets me.

   We talked about dating but mostly we just talked about our hearts. In the weeks leading up to the retreat, Hank and I both felt like the Lord was asking us to use John and Stacie Eldridge's two books- Captivating and Wild at Heart. There were moments I seriously considered going to a typical purity book but I never felt a peace about it. So Hank and I reread these two books and were seriously challenged as we discussed the truths and how we wanted to see them lived out in our marriage.

    Half the fun was sitting on our couch so many nights reading, writing pages of notes, and interrupting one another to read parts of the books we were chewing on. I think I wouldn't mind a job teaching people about this issue so close to my heart.

    As we finished reading the books and began to summarize them into two-three lessons, we realized how the truths we had discovered formed a foundation for purity. In Captivating, the Eldridges talk about how all women live with the questions, "Am I beautiful? Captivating? Am I worth paying attention to? Do I have something to offer?" The way these questions are answered by our parents, loved ones, friends can either wound us or set us free.

One of my colleagues had given me a counseling hand out that discussed the emotional cup all of us have and how we often take in hurt, grief, guilt etc. when bad things happen. When we don't deal with these feelings, they overflow and affect everything in our life.

    It was eye opening for me to realize there were lies I was believing that were simmering right under the surface and causing damage to my marriage and my relationships with others.

We talked about spiritual warfare and how Satan has a vendetta against each woman because we bare the image of God in our beauty and in our nurturing natures. We talked about getting our love tank filled with God's love so that seaking love from a guy before we were filled with God's love wouldn't even enter our minds. We talked about dealing with issues by taking them to our Daddy. It was so good and yet there is so much more I would have loved to talk about.

  Hank felt the same way. And yet, I know without a doubt that God accomplished his plans this weekend. He has opened our eyes again to the war we are fighting for our marriage and for our walks with Jesus. And God has reminded us that we do not fight alone. We are going to keep each other warm on the cold nights and we are going to stand together and fight for each other when our personal battles become too much for us. We are going to speak truth over each other and pray warrior prayers until the chains fall broken and shattered to the ground.

    The mandate looks a bit different now that we are married. We are not fighting our emotions and hormones so much anymore. But we continue to fight lies that would masquerade as the truth. And we continue to trust the same great God that guided us and loved us and protected us when we were too weak to protect ourselves.

Easter

Hard to believe that it is already Spring and even harder to believe Hank and I have been married for nearly half a year. SO Crazy! I hope time doesn't always fly by this quick. Unfortunately, I have a feeling it only gets faster.

    The dry Summer and wet winter have come together to create some of the most spectacular wild flowers I have seen in years. It is a wonder to behold as we drive through the country and partake of fields begging to be painted with their overflow of dainty yellow and white flowers, royal bluebonnets, and delicate pink buttercups. This weekend Hank and I are going up to New Braunfels for Easter to visit our families. Oh, I am so thoroughly looking forward to driving the long stretch of I-10 with the fields breaking into visible songs of worship on either side of me. It is a wonder to be surrounded by spontaneous beauty.

    Aside from captivating me with their beauty, these wildflowers mark for me the passage of time in a graceful sort of way. Month pass by so quickly; weeks and days even moreso. And if I don't stop to breathe and look around, then my least favorite saying becomes the refrain for my life: "Another Day, Another Dollar." Gag.

     When I walk through our neighborhood or drive to work and just fix my eyes on those flowers, I travel back in time to all the Springs of my life. 24 in all, though I don't remember a few of those earlier ones.

I go back to picking buttercups and pulling them apart to suck the sweet drops of nectar off the ends of the pollen shoots. I go back to leisurely bike rides, my legs stretching to take in the freedom and peace of a solitary ride in my neighborhood and my basket brimming with treasures like Indian Paintbrushes and illegally picked Bluebonnets. These were the best gifts one could give, I thought, and I would come home and promptly fill a little cup with water for my handpicked bouquet. The bouquet would then be set proudly upon the kitchen table for all to enjoy or given to Mom as a means of showing my love.

    Everytime Hank and I walk, I find myself picking a flower from the ground just to wonder at it for a bit before tiring of it and discarding it along our path. Twice Hank has reminded me that picking bluebonnets is illegal when he has found them stuck by the kitchen window inside a coffee cup.

     This year I didn't count the days of Lent and I didn't give anything up. Its been a rather quiet season and it has, in many ways, passed by like all the rest with little to set it apart. Perhaps I could have let Easter pass by without much thought if it weren't for "visions of rapture" bursting into sight nearly everywhere I look.

    They paint for me a picture of the Resurrection and Life. The quiet winter thaws almost too slowly for us to stop and notice but then it is Spring in the blink of an eye and the whole world is alive and has reached it zenith in full beauty and colorful splendor.

    The grave was quiet, still and forgotten by all but the faithful few. The promises of redemption, of resurrection were forgotten and misunderstood until the empty tomb and the angels and the Messiah himself proclaimed the truth.

   He is ALIVE. He is RISEN.

And in the midst of the cold shroud of grief, hope explodes and a promise is given. The promise of new life.

The Promised Returning

      Devastation. Heart-rending misery. A fire rampant, destructive, laying waste to all in its path. The effects of living on planet earth. We are the wounded. The ones who have believed the lies for so long. The lies whispered in the dead quiet stillness of night. That we are weak, unwanted, abandoned, ugly, dumb, empty, worthless.

    The lies whispered boldly- that we aren't thin enough, not sexy enough, not smart enough to be worth that job, that commitment, the marriage we have always dreamed of, a kindred spirit.

    And we feel it- the pulling on our souls as we fight the losing battle with self-talk and camouflage. If we hide long enough, maybe they won't realize who I really am. Maybe they will let me be useful without asking me to be real. They only think they want the real me.

    The most glorious trees of the forest are claimed in the fires along with the undergrowth and weeds. The fires are not descriminating- they will devour everything in their path.

      The fires of oppression burn bright and hot in a world where feminism is seductively powerful but feminity is as much under attack as ever. Women are to be strong and resilient. We are to be mothers, warriors, efficient and untouchable. Whatever happened to quiet beauty and the strength that holds families together? It is still there I suppose, but feminism has brought it more enemies than allies.

    And yet there is a beautiful glory to the devestating fires that ravage the earth on all levels and in all arenas. Eventually the fire smolders and turns to ash. Under the ash comes new, tenacious, beautiful and dependant growth. Out of the ashes comes a promise of new life. Of beauty. Of hope.

    It is always this way. In the book of Jeremiah, chapter 32, the prophet was told by God to buy a field. The land was on the verge of being captured and claimed by the ruthless Babylonians. And God was allowing it to happen. Yet he called Jeremiah to buy land that was soon to be claimed by the enemy. Why? Because the enemy would not win forever. He may win the battle, but God was not finished. In fact, he was disciplining his people and plotting his victory. In the midst of the seige came the promise that God would be faithful. That one day fields would be bought and sold again and that God would not only restore the people to their land, He would restore the people to himself. He would be their God and they would be HIS.

HIS.

There is one answer to the lies of Satan against not only the women but every citizen of earth. You can take heart and take up sword because you were created to be HIS. You are loved. You are beautiful and Strong. You are precious, unique, creative, smart. But most of all, you are Loved and you are the Bride of a King that will not stop until he has YOU. You, my friend, are pursued by the most perfect lover of all. Jesus.

Take heart. There is an enemy that is after your soul but their is a King who has already paid the ransom and set you free. He continues to fight for you. And when the fires burn their brightest, he is preparing the way for new growth, new beauty and a hope that will never fade.

Sweet Sundays

On our latest library scavenging trip, Hank and I browsed the Christian books section looking for resources for a retreat we are leading. While I scanned the rows of all too familiar titles, my eyes landed on a tiny book by Kathleen Morris, titled "The Quotidian Mysteries." The title grabbed my attention and I was fairly certain I had heard of the little tome.

     I plopped it haphazardly atop the stack of new arrivals and best sellers I was checking out and Hank and I headed off to check out our precious finds.
     
     As I began to read the book later that week, I found that this book, while tiny, would not be a 'quick read.' Wooh. I had to read most of the sentences twice in order to digest them.
     Morris was a latecomer to Catholicism, happening upon the tradition in a rather unorthodox way. She describes watching her first wedding mass and the shock and awe she felt seeing the priest wash the dishes used for the communion.

    Morris describes the low place given to the monotaneous tasks like house work and child rearing. She talks about the cultural shifts that have landed Americans with the attitude that menial tasks are for the poor or uneducated and we were meant to achieve more or accomplish more with our lives.

   While I am only a few pages in, I have been deeply convicted. I hate laundry. I do not enjoy housework in general. In fact, I am perfectly happy letting my husband take out the trash AND wash the dishes. Lately Hank has started to ask that I perhaps take over dish duty a few nights a week. I knew the day would come but that didn't stop me from selfishly hoping I had married Mr. Clean and would never have to stoop to scrubbing dishes ever again. After all, Hank always washed dishes when we were dating... HAHAHA. And I was sweet, docile and always in the mood then too...

      Dishes just aren't romantic. I pictured married life filled with the smells of fresh bread, kitchens that magically absorbed the floury gunk that gets glued to the countertops, and mornings spent staring dreamily at one another over steaming cups of coffee and plates filled with perfectly cooked eggs and bacon. My dad asked me two months into our marriage whether I was still making breakfast for Hank as I had declared I would do. I admitted I had only done it once and had no great ambitions to make the dream a reality. Oatmeal and cereal seemed nearly as romantic when compared to the value of sleep.

     Hank is a servant and I can easily take advantage of that. We have certain tasks that we usually do. While he washes dishes, I dry them and put them away and put all the food away. While he takes out the trash, I try to keep laundry going. But sometimes I slack off and return to my college habits of waiting to wash clothes until I'm nearly out of underthings and then leaving said clothes in the dryer until they are wrinkled beyond belief.

    So, after feeling particularly convicted by Morris, I set out to catch up on housework today. I finally attacked the mold that had flourished on the ceiling in our bathroom, swept up the floors and even did TWO WHOLE LOADS of laundry. Someone say "Praise the Lord."

      And while I feel mighty good about my thirty minutes of labor, I know that this won't make me a better person or give me the perfect marriage. Within the daily doing of the tasks that must be done, there is a bit of transformation that I am hoping for. There is a slow learning (because I am not a quick learner when it comes to cleaning- ask my mother). It is in the menial and monotoneous, Morris says, that true thinking and inspiration occur. So I am going to try to 'lower myself' (HA!) to these tasks in the hopes that I might just learn to see the beauty in them.