Pay It Forward

The place that our family called home for 13 years was filled with thousands of irises, Tennessee's state flower. I was SO excited about inheriting these beautiful plants, and I would cut giant bouquets and place them all over the house. I began to move the plants all around the yard. The more I divided them, the more they would multiply. I had more than I knew what to do with, so eventually, I began to offer them to family, friends, even friends of friends, one of which gave me the nickname "the iris lady". I love spreading the wealth and bringing a smile to the faces of others. People will post pictures of the irises I've given them on Facebook, and I so enjoy seeing my babies being loved by other people and thriving in new homes.

We moved nearly 2 years ago, but we still rent the old property out. These tenants aren't gardeners in the least, so I've been on a rescue mission lately, to dig up all of my plants and move them to our new place. Last summer, I offered up more irises to anyone that was interested. One day, early in the fall, I saw 2 of the women that work in my chiropractor's office at a landscape place. We chatted briefly, and I mentioned all of the plants I was trying to rescue. I offered them some irises, and they were both interested. Later in the fall, I brought sacks of iris plants to my chiropractor's office. Both women were excited, but especially Jan. She had just recently lost her mother, and she thought planting the irises would be a nice tribute to her. I showed them both how deep to plant them and explained that they likely wouldn't bloom in the first year after being transplanted. 

It was a long, cold winter. Finally, the temperatures began to rise, and I would get reports every Monday when I came in for my chiropractor visits. "I'm starting to get green leaves!" "Shouldn't they be blooming by now?" I had to remind them again that they probably wouldn't bloom this spring. A week ago, Jan was thrilled to tell me that one iris had a stalk with buds. I could tell she was disappointed that it was the only one, but I assured her this was normal. 

Yesterday, I came in for my usual visit. While I was doing my stretches, Jan rushed over and shoved her phone in my face. "Look!", she said, and there was a picture of an iris bloom. "Oh yea! It finally bloomed!", I said. She grinned and said, "Do you know when it opened up?", she hesitated before answering, "...yesterday". I gasped as a chill went up my spine, and exclaimed, "Mother's Day!". Her eyes got teary as she reminded me that she had planted the flowers in honor of her mother. Her husband woke her up Sunday morning and said, "You've GOT to see this!!". He hustled her out of bed and to the window, where a single iris bloom was standing tall and proud. I felt as though my heart would burst. Many people over the years have shown me gratitude for sharing my beautiful plants with them, but this has got to be, hands down, the biggest blessing I've ever received as a result of giving away irises. I don't like the terms "God-thing" or "God-moment"; to me, it minimizes all those other moments that God is ALWAYS working in our lives. But for Jan on this Mother's Day, I know she felt God's arms wrap around her. And knowing that I played just a tiny roll in that moment, is a feeling I can't possibly describe. All I did was pass along some extra plants, plants that were never really mine to begin with. I think this just goes to show that even the slightest kindness we do for others, sometimes matters more than we could ever know. I don't say this to toot my own horn, but to encourage all of you out there to give back; pay it forward. Heck, it's a lesson I myself need to remember more often...be kind; you never know the smiles or the hope you might inspire. 

So Close, Yet So Far Away

Last Thursday, April 24th, we celebrated Pierce's 16th birthday. It's difficult for me to wrap my brain around the fact that I've spent 16 years of my life as a mom. In some ways, Pierce is very much like a typical 16-year-old boy: Sleeps like a teenager, eats like a teenager, has the deep voice, facial hair, and acne of a teenager, certainly smells like a teenage boy. To look at him, anyone that doesn't know him would think just that; typical, normal. However, I had to write out questions for him to answer about the kind of birthday celebration he wanted. Typing out a response is sometimes easier for Pierce than trying to verbalize. While he asked for a chocolate cake and dinner at Applebee's, the activity he requested was anything but typical for a 16-year-old boy. He wanted to go to the LifeWay Christian Store and look at the VeggieTales display. He picked out a couple of videos that we don't own yet. VeggieTales was the first thing he every watched on television as a baby, and he's been obsessed with them ever since. When Pierce started high school last fall, I was terrified for him. I knew that boys he'd gone to middle school with and that were in the youth group with him would be there, too, but this place seemed huge! We walked the halls over and over at orientation to help him get familiar with his schedule. We tried to open his locker, and couldn't. I tried my hardest not to dissolve into tears in front of all these teenagers. Luckily, a friend from the youth group was there to help; I think I may have scared him, though, with my blubbering, once he offered to help Pierce around on his first day. I barely slept a wink that night, worried about how he would survive, having flashbacks to my own miserable days of high school. I walked him to his first class, well aware of the stares we were getting from teens that thought I was being a crazy, overprotective mom. Once we made it to the first class, I was greeted by teachers and assistants that assured me Pierce would be well taken care of. I barely got out to the car before turning into a giant puddle, tears of relief consuming me.

When Tim and I were on our cruise last December, we had to engage in lots of small talk with people we didn't know. Of course, we were always asked if we had kids, and then they'd want to know how old they were. I don't usually volunteer the fact that Pierce is autistic, but it normally comes up, especially now. When we tell people we have a 15 (now 16)-year-old son, 99% of the time, the response is, "Oh! You're about to have a driver in the house!" We then have to explain why we are not, in fact, on the cusp of having a teen behind the wheel. Most days, I'm fine. I've made my peace with life being different for Pierce than I had planned for it to be when he was a baby 16 years ago. But it's when his peers approach those milestones that Pierce is going to miss that I have a bit of a set-back. A couple of weeks ago, we were dropping Pierce off at a youth group function. One of the other 9th grade boys was just pulling up...and getting out on the driver's side to let his mom take over. I have to admit (after I got over the shock of seeing this KID DRIVING!!!, and then reminding myself that he is, in fact, old enough to do so), I felt a twinge of jealousy. Pierce's peers are great. They consider themselves Pierce's friends. For as long as they are all in high school together, I know they are going to make him feel like he's one of them. But these boys are all going to get their licenses soon. There will be parties and sporting events to attend, after-school jobs to go to. Before long, they will all be sending in college applications. I know they won't do so on purpose, but eventually, they are going to leave Pierce behind. Pierce is in a program at his high school that focuses on life skills. He works in a cookie store at the school every day: baking the cookies, washing dishes. Eventually, he'll be taught to work with the money and interact with the customers. I'm so very thankful that a program like this exists; that he won't just get turned out into society once high school is over, with a "Good Luck!" and a pat on the back. He LOVES working in the store. But it does make me sad that he won't go to college and follow the path that his friends will take. The house that we purchased 19 months ago, has a full basement. There is a bedroom and bathroom down there. This is where we decided Pierce should be. I don't know if he will ever live be able to live by himself as an adult, so we are prepared to make the downstairs his apartment. Ideally, I'd love for him to live in a sort of group home so that he can gain some independence from us. 

I've come a long way since that day 11 years ago, when we first heard a doctor tell us our son has autism. I've learned that one never fully leaves the stages of grief. I will revisit them as time goes by. There will be more days like today that will give me pause, and make me wonder what life could be like for Pierce, for our family, without the diagnosis. But, there will also be great days. Like last Friday, when Pierce competed in his very first Special Olympics. He trained every day at school, and signed up to run a 400M. He crossed the finish line with an exuberant, "I WON!!" (He actually took 2nd place). The look of pure joy on his face when he was called to the podium to accept his ribbon is one I'll never forget. While he may not achieve the same milestones that his friends are, he IS reaching goals of his own everyday. Goals I didn't envision years ago when autism was new to us and I was just trying to make it through the day without a colossal meltdown (from him OR from me). So when I have these pity parties, I have to remember what Pierce has managed to accomplish in his 16 years, and try to focus on the successes that are possible for him in the future. 

Latest Developments

Several people have asked how my sister is doing. In an earlier post, I explained how hospice was called in for her 3 months ago. She was given 2 months to live. Obviously, she has exceeded that time frame. I haven't updated everyone on the latest developments with Jeannie, because I really didn't think I could explain the situation accurately. Jeannie's health is not improving. However, she has been removed from hospice care, because the doctor decided she was no longer dying and could live with the disease she has. I'm not going to try to explain his thinking on this. She now finds herself at the mercy of the medical community, somewhere she never wanted to be ever again. She will be the guinea pig, while doctors try to figure out what to do with her. She had mentally prepared herself that it was time to go Home, but doctors want to rewrite the way this story ends. They are in favor of "helping" her continue to "live" here on earth. I am heartbroken that she has to endure more pain and suffering. But while her family and friends are distressed about this situation, Jeannie is absolutely devastated.

I know you have questions, and I do, too. But unfortunately, there just aren't any good answers. Instead, we wait. We cry out for mercy. And though it is so very hard, we trust that God is in control and working in a time frame that makes sense to only Him right now. Jeannie and our entire family are so very grateful for all of your prayers and words of encouragement. We humbly ask that you continue to lift our family up in prayer. Much love to you all. 

Letter To My 13-Year-Old Daughter

My dear Reagan,

Tomorrow, you become an official teenager. I'm excited for you, even if this moment is a little bittersweet. I look forward to seeing what the teen years hold for you, but it does make me a bit sad to know that our time together is growing shorter. I'll try not to gush over you too much, but I want you to know just what an incredible person I think you are. While you are gorgeous on the outside, it is your personality and character that make me beam. The compassion and patience you have for your brother sometimes moves me to tears. You are kind and considerate of everyone's feelings, and rarely do I hear you say an unkind word about anyone. You always seem so full of joy and and have such a positive attitude about life. You're comfortable in your own skin, and not eager to change just to make people like you. I sometimes joke with people that you are your father's child; you embody all of the same qualities that made me fall in love with him. Sometimes when I look at you, my heart is so full of love, I feel like my heart will burst and I have to catch my breath. I absolutely love this stage you are in. I cherish the fact that you still talk to me and your dad about the important (and silly) things in your life. 

I'm not going to lie or sugar-coat things. While your teen years will be full of good times and fun, they will also be a challenge. You will be faced with dilemmas you've never had to deal with before. Friendships will have their ups and downs, and be full of drama at times. Your parents might drive you crazy (just know that it isn't intentional). School will get tougher. You'll be busier, and will need to learn how to prioritize. You'll be interested in boys, and they'll be interested in you, but teen "love" is tricky; you should expect to have your heart broken a time or two. You're going to want to test boundaries and take risks (it's the very nature of a teenager to rebel). You'll make great decisions, but occasionally you'll make some bad ones. Sometimes you'll come out unscathed, but many times, you'll get caught when you mess up. Maybe you've had glimpses of this as a kid, but as a teen, it will become more clear just how unfair life can be; how cruel people can be. People will try to steal your joy. Don't let them. They'll tell you to give up, or better yet, don't even try, because you'll only fail. People will try to define you. Believe in yourself, be true to yourself. Remember who you belong to...you are a daughter of the King. His voice is the only one that matters (well, maybe mom and dad a little...).

While much of this stage of your life scares me, that's not what keeps me awake at night. My biggest fear is that I will be too critical, too overbearing, and push you away to the point you no longer feel you can talk to me. I know I have the potential to do this, and the thought of alienating you, terrifies me and breaks my heart. I need you to know that you will never screw up so badly that you can't talk to me about it. Your teen angst will never be too trivial to share with me. Most of all, if you don't feel comfortable talking to me or your dad whenever you have a problem, please talk to someone. I don't EVER want you to feel that it's better to face your problems alone. Asking for help doesn't make you weak or look stupid; it's one of the wisest decisions you can make. I may get frustrated with you at times, but I will never be disappointed in you. We all make mistakes. I've made some doozies in my time. I will do my best not to remind you of past mistakes, make you feel ashamed of yourself, or say "I told you so". Understand that with mistakes, there will be consequences. However, I won't think any less of you as a person or love you any less. I will ALWAYS be in your corner. 

Love forever,

Mom

Let Go And Let God

I sit, staring at a blank page, not sure how to begin. This is a post I knew I would have to write someday, and unfortunately, that day is now. Before I get to what is really bugging me, I need to give you the backstory. I'll try to make it brief.

My sister, Jeannie, is 36 years old. Most everyone would say that is a vibrant, youthful age to be. But my sister's story is different than most 36-year-olds. At the age of 15, she had symptoms unusual for a high school sophomore: fatigue, fainting spells, joint pain. My mom was immediately alerted, because of her own medical history. She had my sister tested, and her fears were confirmed. Jeannie was diagnosed with Lupus, the same disease my mom had been diagnosed with 12 years earlier. School was a struggle for her. Every winter, she would succumb to the usual illnesses that her friends fell victim to, but while her friends would bounce back quickly, due to their normal immune systems, my sister found herself unable to shake every virus. She would end up on Homebound. This was only the very beginning of her ordeal. I'm not sure when the nausea and vomiting began. It seems as if she's always had it. But once it began, it was constant.

As the years passed, more complications and symptoms would crop up, and more diagnoses followed. Understand that this is a simplified synopsis. I would need to write a book to fit in all of my sister's medical history from the last 21 years. The most prevalent and serious of these diagnoses was Gastroparesis. This was likely brought on by her Lupus. The constant nausea and vomiting occurred, because her digestive system wasn't working properly. Eventually, parts of her system stopped working altogether, becoming completely paralyzed. My family has traveled thousands of miles, for 21 years, trying to find a cure, or at the very least, a treatment that would grant her some decent quality of life. She was never able to continue her education past high school, to hold down a job. She became an invalid, living her days at my parents home, in her bed. Her body became unrecognizable from the suitcase full of different medications, the weight fluctuations, the hospital stays (too many to count over the last 21 years), and 70+ surgeries. Her veins have been destroyed from so many IVs, she's down to a port in her femoral artery. Last fall, the "miracle cure" appeared to have been found. A surgeon determined that if he removed most of her stomach and severed the nerve connecting the stomach to the brain, that he could cure her of this disease. At this point, my sister had nothing to lose, so she agreed to the surgery. Amazingly, it worked! For nearly a year, my sister appeared to be cured. She began to do things normal 35-36 year olds would do: find a job, a place to live, hang out with friends, fall in love. The weight was falling off of her at an alarming rate, but blood work looked ok. After a whirlwind romance, she got married in September of this year. But a couple of months later, the nausea and vomiting were back. What this surgeon didn't know was that the remaining digestive system organs that were left, were still full of the disease and were capable of taking over her body. The Gastroparesis was back, and with a vengeance. At this point, organs were being compromised. She saw a few doctors, but they all had the same clueless response. They could continue to use Jeannie as a guinea pig, but couldn't offer a real solution. Jeannie heard what the doctors weren't saying...there was nothing more to be done. When her gastro doctor suggested yet another course of action that would bring about more pain and discomfort in an attempt to make things right again, she asked if he could honestly fix her; if he could make organs that had stopped functioning, work the way they were meant to work. His answer was "No". Jeannie made the decision to call in Hospice care. 

This brings me to the issue I want to discuss today. I have watched Jeannie's story play out from the sidelines. I couldn't be there for most of it, because I had a husband and children to take care of a few hundred miles away, but to some degree, I have suffered along with her and my family. And we have prayed. God KNOWS how we, extended family, and friends, have ALL prayed for healing. Those of you that know her and my family personally know what a stubborn lot we are. Jeannie and my parents believed healing was out there and would find Jeannie eventually, and they were going to fight tooth and nail to make it happen. I don't know how my sister has existed the way she has for the last 21 years. I really think I would've asked God to take me long ago. But not Jeannie. Year after year after YEAR she fought, determined to find healing. But a couple of weeks ago, she decided to welcome The Ultimate Healing. Notice I said WELCOME. I came home to SC to have a heart-to-heart with Jeannie; what I assume will be the last time I see her here on earth. I never, NEVER, heard her utter any words that resembled "giving up". If she is surrendering at all, it is to God, and for His will to be done. After 21 years of needles, scalpels, and hideous medications, she's putting her fate in God's hands. Perhaps I made her doubt when I told her what a strong person I think she's been for the last 21 years, because when she told me how tired she was and that she wanted the medical community to leave her in peace, she asked, "Does that make me a weak person?" NO. My sister is standing up for herself and telling doctors "no more experimenting". She is leaving things in the hands of The Great Physician. How powerful!

She is being very positive on Facebook; so much so, that I can't tell how she really is. Apparently, she's putting on a happy face on Facebook, because there are people out there telling her that she shouldn't be giving up. That she needs to stay positive. That she needs to believe more in miracles. That she needs to pray harder. If you are one of those people, let me say this to you right now. STOP IT. You are not helping. Have you ever read the book of Job? Because you sound like one of his friends. Yes, I am angry. I am angry with the self-righteous out there that question another person's faith. You know not of which you speak. Why do people assume that calling Hospice is a sign of giving up? When my sister asked if this made her a weak person, I said, "You're going to be healed! You're going to sit at the feet of Jesus!" In what way is that "giving up"?! I think I've had it wrong all these years. Jeannie's decision to call in Hospice is one of the bravest decisions she's ever made. She's deciding to "Let Go, and Let God", a message I've seen on countless bumper stickers, instead of letting the medical community continue to tell her, day after day, year after year, how they think they can fix her. Don't get me wrong; the medical community has done MANY great things for her over the years, and I'm not trying to diss them. It's their job to believe that they can fix humans. But some things, only God can fix. 

I've said this already on Facebook, that lots of people are awkward in their attempts to comfort those that are in these situations. So far, I've offered grace. God knows I've said some REALLY stupid things in my 39 years on this planet to people who are sick, hurting, or grieving. Even the most clumsy things are said in a spirit of love and comfort. But to belittle a person's faith is just plain hurtful and wrong. Tell my sister how much you are praying, along with her, for a miracle, but that you are also praying for God's will to be done. If God's will is for The Ultimate Healing to take place, then praise God for that. 

Heart Of Darkness: Part 4

It took it's sweet time, but Spring has finally sprung, and I am practically giddy! While the thought of all of the plants over at our old house that need to be dug up and transplanted to our new place is quite overwhelming, I am bolstered by thoughts of the numerous possibilities for this new canvas. Like a butterfly, I'm emerging from my cold and dreary cocoon of winter, and I'm transformed by the warm sun on my face and soft dirt between my toes. I don't know if I'll ever feel as good as I did as I came out of this depression 10 years ago, but there are glimpses of that euphoria. 

My recovery was far from overnight. Antidepressant medication is not a magic pill. It still takes about 6 weeks to take affect, and that was certainly the case for me. My mother came to live with us during that time to help me recover. With her here, Tim and I could spend some much needed time alone together, and our relationship healed. She allowed me to take naps whenever I needed one, which I couldn’t do before she came. I talked to a therapist for a couple of months, but didn’t feel like she was helping me much. It became very important for me to talk with my friends and Tim. Tim and I could grieve together the fact that our child is autistic. I became really close with a few friends, something I had found hard to do in the past. With these friends, my "hens", I felt there was nothing I couldn’t share with them. They listened when I needed to talk about my struggles with Pierce. I made sure that Tim was talking about my depression and how it was affecting him. I didn’t want him to hide anything around his friends for my sake. I encouraged him to talk to one of his friends from church that had struggled with depression before. This friend was able to share some things with Tim about depression that I had not voiced yet. It was helpful for both of us. For a long time, I was unable to talk to God, because I felt so ashamed. By telling our friends and family about what I was going through, we had many people praying on my behalf. I read many books on depression, and kept my eyes open for health stories on the internet dealing with the subject. I made more of an effort to tell Tim when I had reached my limit with the kids. He would encourage me to take a long, hot shower or bubble bath, while he took over with the kids. He would also encourage me to get out, especially to scrapbook, since he knew it was a passion of mine and a creative outlet for me. It was important for me to distract myself with something I enjoyed. I would listen to calming music as I did housework, or while driving in the car. After about 2 months of treatment, I noticed that I felt happier than I had felt in a very long time. It's a very difficult feeling to describe. I had not been able to comprehend just how deep in despair I was, until I wasn't anymore. I thought, "So THIS is what it feels like to be truly happy! THIS is normal!". It was a joy so intense, that at times I felt my heart would burst! I could laugh again, honest-to-goodness, pure laughter. I'd been hurting for so long, I couldn’t even remember a time when I had felt so happy and at peace. Medication does have it's drawbacks. One of those for me is that I'm not near as emotional as I used to be. It's extremely rare for me to have a good cry over something. It takes a lot to make me teary. The funny part about that is that Tim and I now are total opposites. HE is the one to tear up over something sappy and sentimental or sad, while I sit back and tease him mercilessly. Ha!

I just can’t stress enough that there is hope for you if you are suffering. The first step is admitting you need help. If you see a friend or loved one is at risk for depression, please don’t hesitate to talk to them. Don’t be afraid to risk a friendship; you may be saving her life. However, choose your words wisely. You could make her feel more guilt about her situation by telling her how she needs to fix her life. Trust me, she already feels more condemned than you could know. Don't offer advice, just offer to listen and help any way you're capable, and if you've been where she is, TELL HER SO. Make her feel she is NOT alone. That is one of the biggest lies that Satan can tell. The best thing you can do for her is pray. Educate yourself, especially if you have teenagers. Learn to recognize the early signs of depression. You may be able to stop it before it starts. Thanks for reading, and thanks so much to everyone that has offered me encouragement, both while I was suffering, and while I've shared my story. If you have a story to tell, share it! Depression should be taboo no longer!!

Heart Of Darkness: Part 3

I had this post in the planning, but the suicide of Rick Warren's son over the weekend has people talking, especially in the Christian community. So, my blog post about depression is joining many out there this week, which, I think, is a discussion that is MUCH needed. I'm a huge believer in finding the silver lining, and I think that is what's happening here. There is a stigma concerning depression among Christians, and it needs to stop NOW. If we start talking about this, more people can get the help they need.

First, let's look at a few biblical accounts of depression. Moses began to feel burdened by the wailing of the Israelites in the desert and called out to the Lord. In Numbers 11:14-15 he says, “I cannot carry all these people by myself; the burden is too heavy for me. If this is how you are going to treat me, put me to death right now- if I have found favor in your eyes- and do not let me face my own ruin.” The Lord responds by calling Moses together with 70 of Israel’s elders. Verse 17 says, “I will come down and speak with you there, and I will take of the Spirit that is on you and put the Spirit on them.  They will help you carry the burden of the people so that you will not have to carry it alone.”

Elijah had just successfully defeated the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel, but his life is threatened by Jezebel. He ran for his life to Beersheba. He journeyed into the desert and prayed this prayer to God: “I have had enough, Lord! Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” The Lord provided him with food twice. An angel said to him, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” He had compassion for Elijah.

Job has a whole book detailing his depression and suffering. Lamentations is another book full of laments written by Jeremiah about his distress over the destruction of Jerusalem. And finally, Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane was certainly distressed. Mark 14:33-34 reads, “He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,’ he said to them. ‘Stay here and keep watch.’”

So, is depression spiritual weakness? Well, I believe the answer to this is in the scriptures. In all of these examples I’ve just mentioned, not once does God rebuke. Instead, he shows compassion when these men are emotionally distraught. In the story of Job, his friends are convinced that he must have sinned and brought all of this pain on himself. God rebukes Job’s friends. Job 42:7 says, “After the Lord had said these things to Job, he said to Eliphaz the Temanite, ‘I am angry with you and your two friends because you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.’”

Depression is part of God’s design. He knew that we would have losses in life and that we would struggle with them. Depression helps us release that which we have lost. Grief, sorrow, and despair are all God-given emotions. As I researched and read after receiving my diagnosis, there seemed to be a debate over medication. Does a Christian with depression really NEED medication? Shouldn't they just pray harder and study scripture more and eventually God will bring them out of it? I can’t tell you how hurtful this is for a fellow Christian to hear. A depressed Christian is not a spiritually weak person. Depression is medical condition. The brain is chemically unbalanced, and this is repaired by anti-depressants. Do I believe that God could take away a Christian’s depression with prayer and petition? Of course; I couldn’t be a Christian if I didn’t believe that God can do any and all things. However, we would never dream of telling a diabetic that they wouldn’t be dependant on insulin if their faith in God was what it should be. Who would tell a cancer patient that they don't need chemo or surgery, they just need to spend more time in prayer?! Why is depression different? At the same time, I don’t believe some magic pill is going to take your depression away. Depression is best treated with a combination of therapies. Counseling should go hand in hand with medication. Talking to anyone is part of the recovery. You can’t expect to get better while keeping everything bottled up inside, even if you are on an antidepressant.

Because of my family history, and because I've had 2 prior bouts with clinical depression, my doctor feels, and I agree, that it's best that I stay on an antidepressant, possibly for life. Call it a crutch, if you must. But when I find myself sliding into that pit again every winter, even ON the medication, I know I'm making the right choice. I'll talk more about my recovery in the next post. Gotta go; the warm weather is beckoning me outside, and there's yard work to be done!