The Highest Compliment

In the first chapter of Matthew, there is an accounting of the birth of Jesus. It is not as long or as elaborate as the one found in Luke, but I happen to like it better. I have my reasons and would be happy to explain them to you, but I will save that for another time.

In Matthew’s telling of it, there is little fanfare, no harking of the herald angels or adoring shepherds. We are told briefly about Mary and Joseph being betrothed, which in those days was the first step of a binding marital covenant. Usually the bride and husband were called just that after this first step and it could not be ended without some legal process and without good reason. And we are told that Mary was “with child” i.e. PREGNANT! Under the category of “good reason,” that would have certainly qualified.

I have always assumed Joseph was a normal man; that he had the hopes of a normal man and the feelings of a normal man and was probably hurt and ashamed like a normal man would be and probably angry like a normal man. But Matthew tells us “Joseph was a righteous man,” (Mt. 1:19). It is given as a simple, forthright statement of fact. And every time I read it, it hits me right between the eyes. I can’t tell you how many times I have read that and wished he’d written something else!
Being righteous or upright is not about right thinking or even right feeling. It is about right doing. Here was a good man. Here was a right-doing man and he was confronted with something that sure seemed incredibly wrong. Now remember, he did not have the luxury of the explanation that Matthew supplies to us like a secret whispered in our ear. Would Joseph do the right thing? Would he shame her publicly? Would he allow his hurt feelings, his sense of betrayal, his sense of justice and perceived “wrong-ness” of another’s actions to drive his response? Joseph, the righteous man, had determined to do the right thing in the right way and because of that something even more right happened.

If we have chosen to care for people and care about people, we will soon be confronted with things that feel wrong, that are wrong and we will sometimes be wrongly treated even by the people we are trying to help. And it will surely hurt. And we will be tempted to respond in kind. Do right anyway. The angels are watching.

May you be blessed this Christmas season!

Jerald

Remembering My Blessings

“Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan, from right where the priests are standing, and carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight.” (Joshua 4:2,3)

Recording important events, historic occasions or legal transactions required significantly more effort in Joshua’s day than it does now. Agreements were chiseled in stone and monuments were erected at historic sites. Now documents and photos can be digitized and sent across the world almost instantly. For the occasion of crossing the Jordan, Joshua wanted to make sure the people remembered. Still ringing in his ears was the warning of Moses who had led the people out of Egypt and for forty plus years in the desert wilderness. Moses had warned them to not forget the events that had brought them there. He knew their nature and ours as well. Forgetting comes so easily to us. So Joshua told them to pick one person from each of the twelve tribes. Each one was to pick up a rock from the middle of the Jordan and carry it with them to the encampment they would settle in for the night. There they stacked the stones to fashion a historic marker of the day’s events. “In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.” (Joshua 4:6b, 7 NIV)

Thanksgiving is about remembering. It is about visiting the places in your heart where you have piled up stones to mark the important events, the places in your life’s journey were you were up against it and God showed up. It is about those places where you knew you were blessed and you were sure you could never forget the feelings, the moment, the people, the place. But we can. We do. We forget our blessings and the One who provided them just as easily as they did in Moses’ day. His warning to them is a pertinent to us now as it was to them then. “Be careful!” “Don’t forget!” But they did. And I do. And so have you. So before this Thanksgiving passes, I’m taking some time to re-visit some stones that I have piled up through the years and remember their meaning.

There is the beautiful young woman on her father’s arm at the end of the aisle at that church in Tampa, Florida. Here are three little girls wrapped in pink and white baby blankets. And there is the hospital waiting room where we heard “it isn’t cancer, she’ll be ok” when she was twelve. Those stones over there are for three weddings, two grandchildren and two more on the way. And these are for the house on Fox Ct in Titusville, FL and the tiny apartment on Sutherland in Knoxville, TN so that I won't forget how far I have come. Places. Stones. Blessings. There are these and so many more.

This Thanksgiving, remember those places, those stone piles in your own life. Pay them another visit. And give thanks!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Jerald

Dad plus 16

“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom” (Psalm 90:12)

As of today, I’m 56 years or 20454 days old. I’m sixteen years older than my father was at the time of his death. Sixteen years seems like a long time, and it is, I suppose. But in those moments when I stop to reflect, it also seems remarkably brief. And that is what I have been doing the last few days. Mostly I’ve been reflecting on all the things I have been able to see, do and experience that my father didn’t.

He didn’t see us getting ready for our first day on our first job. My father didn’t see his children graduate from high school. He didn’t get to spend his twentieth anniversary with my mom. He missed witnessing the nervous excitement of his daughters as he walked them down the aisle to give them away to equally nervous young men. And what he wouldn’t have given to be able to see his children’s children, to hold them in his arms and to experience that moment when the lights go on as the weight of parenthood settles on their shoulders.

I have had those moments. I have had these sixteen years. I don’t care about the gray hair or the crow's feet. I have lived the past sixteen years…and in each of those moments when I have experienced such remarkable joy, I have thought about him and what he has missed. And I have wished that my wife, children and grandchildren could have known the sweet, funny, gentle man that he was.

I miss him today. I always will. I know that. But mostly what I am feeling today is a profound sense of gratitude. In the past sixteen years, I have experienced more blessings than I could have imagined.

What about you? Looking back over your last sixteen years, you probably can remember blessings of your own, as well as heartbreaks, hard times and even failures. But for a moment, think about the blessings. Take the time today to re-live those moments, to savor them and to give thanks for them.

What will the next sixteen years bring? I have no idea. But if they could be half as special as the last sixteen, bring it on!
Jerald

Pulling Weeds

Glimmers
September 8, 2011


“When the crop began to grow and produce grain, the weeds also grew.” Matthew 13:26 NLT

I share the following with a caution: please do not read this and go away thinking that the chaplain is so spiritual that he is constantly thinking about scripture and God and such. And I refuse to be put on a pedestal. Sometimes I think of spiritual things while I am about the routine tasks of being a homeowner and sometimes I just mow. I don’t mind mowing grass. I love planting new annuals and shrubs. I don’t like pulling weeds.

Last week, unable to stand it any longer, I attacked a patch of weeds in the backyard flower bed. As I was on my knees pulling the weeds from the flowers, some of the flowers were pulled up as well. I tried to avoid it, but even so some of the flowers suffered along with the weeds. Now here is where the spiritual part comes in. I suddenly thought about the parable of the wheat and tares (Matthew 13:24-30). “See,” said the Voice inside my head, “That’s what I meant.” “Try as you might to distinguish flowers and weeds, you will sometimes mess up.”

This is a cautionary tale- a parable about miss-judgment (I misspelled it for emphasis). Wheat and tares (weeds) look almost identical, especially in the early growth stages. Attempting to separate them out can lead to costly mistakes. Pulling the weeds sounds like a good idea, but wheat will be destroyed in the effort. When Jesus speaks of wheat and tares, he is really talking about people. It is a story to prove a point.

When we judge a person who comes to our hospital as a drug-seeker, a deadbeat, non-compliant, frequent flyer, neurotic who should be making better choices-we may have every reason to think so today- based on empirical evidence and observation. Our judgment about them today may be dead-on. They may look like a weed today. But who knows what will they be tomorrow, or next week, or next year at the end of the process? They may turn out to be something entirely different from what they appear to be today! What if two years from now, having completed rehab, they have found employment, obtained insurance, cleaned up, got their head on straight and they come back into our hospital for appendicitis, would we treat them differently? Honestly now…maybe we would. And that is the point. We don’t know how things will turn out. We don’t know who is a weed and who is a stalk of wheat by looking at them today. “Let them grow up together.” “Treat them all the same and let me sort out all that stuff at the end of the harvest.”

I know I will still have to fight the urge to draw conclusions and distinctions based on the foul language and self destructive lifestyles of some of the people I will meet in the course of my work. I am human after all. But I got the message…and I will fight the urge and do my best to love everybody the same and let God sort out all the rest at some later date.

Jerald

Are you ready for work?

Ezra 7:6 “This Ezra went up from Babylon; and he was a ready scribe in the law of Moses…”

I know that most of you who read Glimmers are not ministers. As such, it may be difficult to relate to much of what ministers are about, especially those ministers who have the task of preaching each Sunday. But modern healthcare is acutely focused on quality and if you’ll allow, I’ll do my best to show how much you and the minister share in common.

Paul E. Scherer writes in “For We Have This Treasure” about the seriousness of the minister’s task; “It takes muscle and sweat to write a sermon. To fasten a man’s attention and challenge his respect is not done lightly, no matter how worthy your material or how exalted your theme,” (pg. 144). Quality is not done on the cheap in any profession.

This readiness is of two kinds, says Scherer. “There is the kind that begins away back in the past somewhere and continues steadily through the years,” (p. 145). “Then there is that kind of preparation which begins when the threat or promise of next Sunday falls like a shadow or a song across the week. Generalities can go hang then, something specific has to happen, (p. 146).” The minister who does not keep the spirit sharp and the mind fresh and current is doomed.

In ministry, as in healthcare or any profession really, you come to your work with your accumulated experiences and education to draw upon. You have the first kind of readiness. However, you can’t rest on your laurels. The world keeps changing and the world of healthcare is no different. If you fail to keep learning, you fail. Or if you fail to bring all of your attention to the current moment to care for the person before you, you fail. And if you fail in healthcare, the consequences can be immediately catastrophic.

At the baccalaureate service on the night before I graduated from seminary, F. J. May spoke about the Old Testament prophet Ezra, the “ready scribe.” He had a lifetime of preparation - the first kind of readiness. And he had prepared himself for that instant when he was called upon - the second kind of readiness. Dr. May, one of the best preachers I have ever heard, told a story of his own lack of readiness. While he was in seminary working on his doctorate, he was also the pastor of a busy church. He missed the due date on an assignment and offered his work as an excuse. “Professor, I’m sorry I didn’t complete my assignment. I am the pastor of a very busy church and was unable to get it done.” As best as I can remember, his professor said “Rev. May, I am not here to hear excuses on why you didn’t get your work done. I’m just here to grade the work that you do.”

Our patients come here expecting excellence. We have made ourselves ready by our education and training. We are qualified, no doubt, or we wouldn’t be here. But the people we’ll serve today will not be grading us on how well we did on our nursing boards or the cogent thoughts of our doctoral thesis. They will be grading us on how well we bring all of our expertise to bear in this present moment, this sacred moment when their need meets our loving response (Erie Chapman). They’ll be grading us on how well we care for them. Are you “ready” for that?

Blessings to you all!
Jerald

The Problem With Hindsight

July 22, 2011
One of the things I remember from my early days of serving as a local church pastor is the sticker shock I experienced when I saw the price tag of the group health insurance for the ministers in my state. The plans would often change year to year as some new insurer took over. It turns out ministers are a high-risk group! That may seem surprising to some of you, but the reasons are not that hard to understand. Ministers often work long hours, answer phone calls at all hours of the night, walk with families through heartbreak, put a lot of themselves into their work…and often don’t take care of themselves very well. It is the last part that is the killer, literally.

In 1944 at Yale University, standing before young ministers on the cusp of their careers, Paul Scherer warned them to take care of themselves. It is an odd thing that ministers, called to be stewards of the Scripture and of the congregations they serve, are often not good stewards of themselves.
“My word to you is that you regard and treat this aspect of your ministry as fundamental. The training of the body may be of small service, as Paul says, when you compare it with training for the religious life (I Timothy 4:8); but squanderers of health are quite as culpable as any other squanderers and profligates. They will answer for it. The plain fact is that you cannot serve God as you might with an instrument that you have abused; whether from ignorance or with full knowledge, whether by harmful habits or by careless inattention makes no difference. And Life and God will some day render their account and want to know why.” (Scherer, For We Have This Treasure p. 33, 34)

I suspect ministers are not the only guilty parties here. Recently, my wife and I joined the fitness center run by the hospital. If you work here and you take a few steps, you can join it for free. FOR FREE! She has been going almost every day. I went with her to a Zumba class for the first time the other night. I don’t know if the ache in my gut afterward was from trying to copy the instructor’s moves or from laughing so hard at myself as I tried to keep up. It was a lot of fun and a great work out too.

He spoke from the hospital bed, aided by the oxygen flowing through the tubing that hung over his ears and under his nose. “If I had known I was going to live so long, I’d have taken better care of myself.” he said, half smiling and totally serious. His story was as clear an example of 20/20 hindsight as I have ever heard. But that is the problem with hindsight. It yields wisdom, to be sure, but the consequences of the lessons learned are sometimes irreversible.

Life and God will indeed render their account.

I’d rather learn from forewarning any day. You?

Blessings to you all,
Jerald

Buried Treasure

July 11, 2011

I found the treasure buried in plain sight on my office bookcase. I have had it in my possession for over twenty years. I don’t recall when or where I purchased it. It must have caught my eye as being something of possible value as a young preacher learning his craft. I remember reading it with the cursory kind of attention the young often give to the wisdom of the aged and experienced and was not then particularly impressed.

Now as I read it, what riches I find! Paul E. Scherer’s book For We Have This Treasure is a truly a gold mine. It dates back to 1944, to dark days in American history. The Great Depression had given way to the Great Madness of WWII and it seemed as if there was no end to the evils a human could perpetrate on another and the world was all but overwhelmed with a purposeless dread. At that moment, Paul Scherer stepped into a lecture hall at Yale University to address young ministers on the importance of their calling. Some of what he said applies uniquely to ministry, of course. But, whether you believe it or not, preachers are people too and much of what he said applies to all of us.

One of the temptations common to ministers and everyone else I suspect, is the temptation to think that somehow God left something out or made a mistake with us. We compare ourselves to someone else who we may think looks better or sings better or speaks better and wish we were anyone else but the person that God made us to be. If that speaks to you as it does me, then listen to this: In preaching, he says, the one thing that is unique that you bring to the table is yourself. “The human heart is not new, the need is not new, the truth is not new, the method is not new. You are new. You are a bit of God’s unrepeated handiwork; and what he means to accomplish by you, he must accomplish through you.” (Scherer, p. 38)

Sure, we ought to be good stewards of our bodies and our minds and be the best us that we can be. But to strive so hard and to be filled with such frustration that we are not like someone else we think is better in some way is to belittle ourselves and God.

You have your unique fingerprints, your unique iris pattern, and your unique self ..."a bit of God's unrepeated handiwork" to offer to God and the world for a reason. It would be a sad thing to go through life and only offer an imitation, even a good imitation, of a somebody that has already been tried.

Blessings to you all,
Jerald

The Starship Atlantis

Glimmers

July 8, 2011; the final voyage of the starship Atlantis.
Imagine that line being read by William Shatner. Imagine a truck with a cramped cab and a massive cargo trailer attached to three huge, powerful rockets and you have our beloved Space Shuttle. And today was the last one. The very last one. It is hard to imagine that.

When the first Shuttle went up on April 12, 1981, I was newly married and working as associate pastor of a church in Sanford, FL. Officially dubbed STS 1, I watched from the church parking lot as Columbia hurtled toward space. Even from that distance, it was quite impressive.

The Challenger disaster is one of those "I remember where I was when it happened" moments, like the Kennedy assassination or 9/11. We were living in Selmer, TN at the time. I was the pastor of a small church and was working as a substitute teacher at the middle school that day. All school work stopped. People sat stunned in their seats. Here in Central Florida, the grief was deeper, I’m told. The atmosphere turned from celebration to horror, and then to mourning in a matter of seconds. Here monuments to the crew remain to remind us. There are schools named after crew members McNair and McAuliffe and for the vehicle itself. Here we live surrounded by the history of Space.

I know people who were charged with going to Texas to search for pieces of Columbia in the aftermath of its breakup during re-entry in on October 15, 2003. For some the impact was akin to the PTSD that soldiers experience after combat. And yet the program endured.

With the exception of those two missions, the Shuttle has been remarkably successful. Because of the Shuttle program, we have the international space station and the Hubble telescope. And we also have microchips and MRI machines, artificial hearts and smoke detectors, LED lights and digital mammography, Mylar balloons and Kevlar vests, microwave ovens and cell phones, sports domes and football helmets. These are a few of the thousands of inventions and advancements that owe their existence to the program.

Atlantis is STS 135. 134 times we have witnessed this marvel climb into the skies, clouded in steamy vapor and shaking the earth as the sound reverberated outward from the launch pad. 132 times twin sonic booms have announced the successful completion of the assigned mission. And now we wait for it just once more.

We will miss you indeed.

Jerald

Freedom isn't free

I love bumper stickers. I even love bumper stickers that goad my own sacred cows- theologically and politically- if they are clever. Crude bumper stickers obviously don’t meet the clever test so I especially don’t like them.

Years ago, while driving on I-4 between Orlando and Lakeland, I was passed by a truck from a particular meat company that had a bumper sticker on the top right hand side of the rear panel. It read, “I didn’t climb all the way to the top of the food chain to eat veggies.” I was all alone in the car and laughing out loud.

Some bumper stickers are not funny or clever, but good anyway. “Freedom isn’t Free” comes to mind as we approach Memorial Day. Freedom, it turns out, is quite costly.

He was in bed 8 in the ICU at Cape Canaveral Hospital years ago, a grizzled old guy struggling with heart issues and COPD. I stopped in to see how he was doing and introduced myself. “Chaplain, I don’t think I believe in God,” he said. “Not after all the things I’ve seen and done.” He was a WWII veteran. Sixty years later, he was still paying the high cost of his service, physically, emotionally and spiritually. I didn’t try to argue for God. I don’t do that anymore. I think God is much better at proving himself than I could ever be. I tried to be with him in a way I think that God would have been. “I’m sorry you had to do so much, see so much that has cost you so much,” I said.

Many have paid the price with their lives, as Memorial Day reminds us. There are many more like the grizzled old guy in ICU 8, veterans old and young walking around still paying the costs of freedom, whether active duty or long since retired. And their families pay a high cost as well- empty chairs on holidays, post traumatic stress, adjusting to deployments and homecomings and trying hard to maintain family relationships over the phone, on Facebook or Skype. Indeed, freedom is not free.

So another bumper sticker with a good message-not clever or funny, but good nonetheless; “If you love your freedom, thank a Vet.” My sentiments exactly.

Happy Memorial Day

Jerald

Planting

Glimmers
April 29, 2011

“Through some moment of beauty or pain, some sudden turning of our lives, we catch glimmers of at least what the saints are blinded by…” (Frederick Buechner, Listening To Your Life, p. 169)


The following is the president’s message I wrote for Space Coast Grief Education Alliance. SCGEA is a collection of professionals from various fields who offer education and support for those who are grieving the death of someone loved and important in their lives.

In this message, I reference one or our care partners from Parrish Medical Center. I am proud to be a part of PMC and to work with people who make a difference in the lives of others every day. Sometimes you see that in a matter of hours, as in the case referenced here. Sometimes you see that years later and sometimes you may never know the difference you’ve made.

Blessings,

Jerald

SC GEA
President’s Message

Like some of you I presume, I have been doing a good bit of yard work of late. The current project is re-planting the flower beds in the back yard. I am late doing it this year because of another project I just completed; a retaining wall and pathway from the fence gate on the side of the house to the screen door around back.

Planting things can be a hit or miss exercise. The plants I chose last year were really a bust. They simply did not do well in spite of my best efforts. But I am back at it with hopes of better results this year. We’ll see…

I took some satisfaction this past week from a planting of another sort. When I worked for Brevard Hospice years ago, I worked with three boys from Titusville, two identical twins and a younger sibling. Their father died and their mom had asked for some help with them to help them deal with their grief. I think the fact that I had experienced the loss of my father at about the same age help us connect. I worked with them a few weeks. It has been too long to remember just how many.

When I came to work at Parrish Medical Center in 2004, who do you think I met? The twins! Both are now EMTs and work in the Emergency Department at Parrish, as well as for Brevard County Fire Rescue. It was great to see how they had grown into young men any parent would be proud of.

While on duty for the Fire Department a couple of weeks ago, David, one of the twins, responded to a call for help. When he arrived, the man was sitting on his steps talking on the phone. He said he wasn’t sure he really needed to go to the hospital and kept talking on the phone. One quick look and David was sure. He said, “Sir, hang up the phone, we have to go now.” While I can’t share all the details, the result was a man was saved from certain death by David’s assessment and action.

Now I know that I was not the only influence in the lives of those boys thirteen years ago. I know others had larger and more important roles, particularly their parents and extended family. But I also know I planted something that they still remember and talk about.

When I look around the room at our meetings, I see professionals who make a difference, who plant hope in the broken soil of others’ grief and loss. We don’t always get the privilege of seeing the result of what we do, what we “plant” in the lives of others. But don’t think for a minute that it doesn’t matter.

Until next time,

Jerald

Despicable me

Glimmers
March 23, 2011



Among the many positives of having children, and now grandchildren, in my life is that I can watch children’s movies and not have to explain myself. My favorites from when my girls were small are The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. In both, the animation was fantastic, the stories were engaging and the music was clever. If you ever saw The Little Mermaid, you can probably still hum the tune of “Under the Sea.” Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson’s version of the theme song from Beauty and the Beast was so good it was on the pop charts for weeks after the movie debuted. I probably would have never seen either of those if it hadn’t been for the three sweet little girls in my life.

I remember seeing a big poster display in the mall sometime this past Christmas season for the movie Despicable Me. I had no idea what it was about and really had no desire to see it. My grandson asked me if I had seen it. When I said no, he said, “You really need to see it.” I followed his advice and rented it a short while later. I’m glad I did. The lead character is a “criminal mastermind.” He is selfish and self-absorbed. He brings three little orphan girls into his life so that he can use their irresistible charms to further his schemes. He quickly learned, as I did, to never underestimate the power of three little girls to change your life. By the end of the movie he is a different person, totally smitten by their love and more lovable as a result. Forced to attend to their needs, he finds that being selfish and self-absorbed ain’t all its cracked up to be.

Someone once asked Jesus what was the greatest commandment. “Love the LORD your God with all your heart, mind, and strength,” he replied. “And the second is like it. Love your neighbor as yourself.” The exchange is followed by the story of the Good Samaritan who unselfishly assists a perfect stranger who had been robbed and left for dead. Helping someone just because they are a “some-one” and not a “some-thing” is the point of the message.

Like the evil mastermind, I fall into “despicable me-ism” on occasion. I can lapse into selfishness as easily as anyone else. Then I meet a “some-one” left for dead beside the road and I remember why I am here.

Blessings to you all,

Jerald

Blueberries

Glimmers
February 11, 2011

"Can you stop and get soft taco shells?" she asked. I had called my wife as I do almost every day as I head home from work. Our grandson, Christian, won't eat hard taco shells so a trip to Publix was required.
I was passing by the dairy case, headed to the back of the store when I saw a distinguished-looking gentleman and recognized him as one whose mother had recently been in our hospital. I asked how she was doing and he told me the latest news. She is in a local rehab center and doing well and he hoped she could stay out of the hospital for a while. He thanked me for my interest and I proceeded in my aisle-wandering looking for soft taco shells, lost in the grocery store wilderness.

I turned down the back aisle of the store and headed toward produce, looking down each aisle as I went, looking for a clue to their location. In produce, an older woman with a kindly face was offering sample cups of blueberries to passing shoppers. “Would you like to try some blueberries?” she asked. Intent on my mission, I declined and quickly asked about soft taco shells. Before answering, she said, “I remember you.” “You stopped and sat down beside me at the hospital and asked me if I was ok.” I did remember. A few days earlier I was coming back from a walk through the Emergency Department and saw her sitting on the bench in front of the Diagnostic Imaging desk. Her eyes were red and she appeared worried. Her husband was back in CT scan she said and she was anxiously waiting for him. “I’m OK, really.” “Thanks for asking.”

“He has cancer,” she said, standing behind the little cups of blueberries. It saddened me to hear it and I told her so. We talked a bit more about her husband and then she called out to the tall man dressed in a Publix-green apron who was re-stocking packages of spring mix salads. He knew exactly where the soft taco shells were-aisle three, on the left.

What a weight to be carrying! Offering blueberries with a smile and at the same time her world was in such upheaval. I know there are more like her. All around us, patients and co-workers move through their day, crossing our paths. Some of them say “I’m fine” and they really are…today. And sometimes in the tone of voice or by a subtle facial expression they tell you a different truth. I know that I don’t always pick up on each one and you don’t either. The sweet lady behind the blueberries reminds me that when we do, they remember.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
(Note: Though patient and wife are not named, I was given permission to share this story.)