It was one of my most real moments with God, and one of my most daring, bold, I guess. Every emotion of anger and fear and desperation came to the surface. I asked the “if” questions. God, if You are my God, then You must come through for me. It was almost more of a demand than a beg. If I am Your child, then You have to come provide and protect and show me, I continued. Fear did grip me a little, at the thought of my audacity before the greatest King ever living, One ruling the earth and heavens at that moment, One who could smite my existence. But I pulled all my theology to my memory. He is my God. I belong to Him. Nothing can change that, and His promises are sure. Perhaps my audacity was even proof of how much I knew and trusted that He was my God, my provider, my Father. Who would dare to speak to such a God in such a way, but His own child?
I haven’t spoken to Him that way since. That would scare me! He is most holy. And He continually attracts my awe. But at that moment, I put my relationship on the line with Him. I almost felt like a child asking, “Are You my God or not?”
It came at one of the scariest times in my life. I had a form of anxiety grip me almost four weeks earlier. In the middle of class on a Monday evening, I stood at the whiteboard, interacting with students, and explaining a grammar concept. One of my students asked a question. I knew the answer, and even how to explain it, but for some reason, in that moment, my mind drifted. I wondered if I really knew the answer, if I was really qualified to teach. I think it’s typical for teachers to ask those questions, get those doubts, but this time, the question, or rather accusation, was stronger than I had ever felt. I got light headed, dizzy. The room began to spin. I felt myself shaking, and feeling sick to my stomach. Whatever words came out of my mouth didn’t even make sense to me, and I saw myself from a distance acting in automatic responses, rather than with intentional control.
It was unexpected and almost debilitating. And it didn’t end. Classes that were usually easy to teach became dreaded. And the feelings perpetuated, and began to affect more than just my teaching. I feared walking into my small group to lead it. I even feared relationships that were usually my source of comfort, filling, and fun. I wanted to start up a prayer group for the young adults at my church that week, but I put it on hold.
After one full week of this gripping anxiety, on a Friday afternoon, I walked outside of class on the college campus. I sat on a bench and tears flooded my eyes. I can not do this. Are You humbling me God? Do You want me to get a different job? I thought of how the college could find a replacement teacher, and began to visualize myself applying to Starbucks.
Over three years of teaching at the college level. Three years of really enjoying and thriving on it, and suddenly, it was over? I couldn’t understand it.
I saw my counselor. Asked friends for prayer. Began reading up on anxiety. I prayed against every spiritual warfare. I talked through my anxiety with others. Pretended it wasn’t there. I slept as much as I could. Ate the healthiest food I could. I relaxed and did breathing exercises. I started yoga.
Nothing helped.
Fear still gripped me. Constantly. I had moments of relief. But an overwhelming sense that something bad was coming loomed over my head. It stayed with me for another week, and then another. When it entered the fourth week, was when I had it out with God in the car that night. And I asked the question. Do You want me to keep walking through this God, or am I supposed to do something? Am I supposed to have victory over this, or is it a method for me to know I am completely dependent on You? Either way You will provide, I conceded, but please make it clear if I should do something.
Still today, I’m not really sure what the problem was, nor what the solution was. Maybe both were a combination of things. But it ended. Four weeks to the day, the next Monday evening, it was gone. I did begin taking a supplement for my low iron levels (said to be a cause of anxiety) just two days before. But whatever the problem, and whatever the solution, I was free. I could breathe. I could smile, even laugh, in class again. I could bring it to my small group girls, and pursue closeness in my relationships again.
I could be me!
The next day I did two things. First, I put the prayer group back on the calendar. And secondly, I bought a ton of smily face stickers and stuck them all around my room, in my car, on my books. They reminded me of the joy that comes after hard times, and of the joy I wanted to choose even when I didn’t feel it.
That . . . choosing joy even when it wasn’t felt . . . would come not long after.
I soon met disappointment. In the form of dissonance with a family member, unmet expectations during my spring break, deferred hope from a six-month wait, a large tax payment instead of return, and a type of loss in a close friendship. But each time the disappointment came, I grabbed it before it hit the ground as discouragement, laid it in my journal next to the smily face stickers, and looked squarely at the threat it posed.
Perhaps it could be strong enough to take my joy away. But not this time. No, this time I was going to fight for my joy. Bring it on!
I warned one of my friends on the phone that night: be careful, I’m a bad luck charm! I was partially joking, but it seemed that everything around me was falling apart, and that it even touched those I interacted with as well.
Even still, bring it on!
I chose joy.
And I continue to choose it today.
This past week, I actually found myself reacting with emotions that were unfamiliar and unexpected. I generally think of myself as a cool and collected, logical person. But the sanguine part of my personality recently brought out some hyper craziness, and my melancholy my moodiness!! Specific triggers evoked fear, and its wall to hide behind—anger. Hurt, and its wall —over-competency. And a sense of rejection, that I masked with a “I don’t care anyway” face.
At first, I despised the emotions. “Ahh,” I text my friend the next morning, “will you pray that I’m not so emotional!” Sounds tough, my friend validated, but it sounds like processing these things is so beneficial! Alright, I will choose joy in the fighting over the land of my mind!
I came home from my afternoon class yesterday, and cancelled class for the evening (the first of the three times I can for the semester—and of course, to a rejoicing chorus of students!), to process in my journal. And to visit an old small group of good friends!
As much as I wanted to control my emotions, and certainly am responsible for my actions because of them, I realized that they were signs of living . . . with some risk and courage! Rather than with the fear that accompanies a cold and contained environment, completely void of any chance that I would have an unexpected reaction.
And so, at my lack of control over my life, and even my own internal responses at times, I chose joy. At being real, and being okay with it, I choose joy now.
And at my messiness in processing these things . . . I choose to get real.
God, will You help me to evaluate my own heart and mind. Teach me, You always do, where I need to surrender even more to You. Carry me, when I just can’t. Let me not fear to be real, but have a peace as You bring these things out . . . and do Your work. Let me keep walking with You, and trusting You, when I cannot see where all this is going.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Not of me . . .
I was far up, at one of the pinnacles of San Diego, sitting near a lighthouse, overlooking a peninsula of land, navy ships, flora, and ocean as far as my eyes could see. It was mid-afternoon, but not a sunny day in San Diego. No, it was cloudy, windy, and the air chilled. I pulled the hood of my jacket a little tighter over my head. Partly because of the cold, partly signifying a person not yet ready to reveal or be revealed. I looked down at my ballpoint pen as I snapped the cap on. Click. That was it. I slowly pulled the ribbon over the last written page of my journal to bookmark it, taking one more glance, and closing the book carefully.
I put my hand over the cover, feeling the flower print engraved in the leather. Written. There, lay the secrets of a dream, partially traveled, and partially to come. There, written. Secrets of the heart, and mind, and soul. I lifted my head to look down over waves crashing along the rocky coast far down beneath me. Those dreams and secrets, seeming as wide as the ocean in front of me, and as far away, were somehow captured, at least a little bit, in the letters I wrote on those pages. There, in stories that would bring both pensive smiles and unstopped tears. There, in thoughts no one knew, nor could understand. There, where a heart felt its own sadness, and knew its own joy. There, where hope dared to rise, again, and again. And again.
I shut my eyes. The battlefield. I played it in my mind again. I think back to the beginning of the battle . . . and shake my head in mixed disbelief and confusion at its end. Like those who study their opponents in martial arts, I carefully reviewed the plays . . . in slow motion. Except, my battle was not confined to a ring. Nor was it as obvious.
Happy hobbit music hummed in my head as I saw myself joyfully enjoying the friends around me; enchanting, distant, melodic notes gained heartfelt volume as I watched myself gracefully rise to the calls of love and honor. But chords turned minor and eerie, and darkly crescendoed, as scenes played in my mind of enemies sneaking up near me, unnoticed. Of black, formless creatures reaching out to envelope me into a nothingness. Of feelings . . . a mixture of utter terror with paralyzed passivity . . . determination that fought against a desire to fall into the darkness. To give up. And of a mind grown weary with deferred hope, exhausted fighting, and feared defeat.
But at this moment, the very emotions I despised, fear and anger, channeled into energy and determination. Hurt, into compassion for another’s hurt. Shame, into hope of a day wrong would be made right. Light was born. And, I believed.
And, that moment, I vowed: when memories begin to become fuzzy and hope begs to let go, I will hope still. I will imagine the stillness of the quiet rivers, and green slopes, sitting with friends, and laughter. I will trust that the battle will soon be over. And though another will come, it always does, I will see peace in the land, and I will rest. And so, I will remember that time is a tool, rather than measurement, to the wielding of patience. And hope is a very hidden, yet powerful, strength.
And, so I fought on. With grace, with strength, with hope.
But at this part, my mind stopped in its memory of the battle. This part I payed close attention to, for I became confused.
The battle did not end. Nor, did I see my strength. Nor, did the object of my hope, green slopes and peace in the land, come. From the top of that pinnacle over San Diego, I opened my eyes and imagined the ocean to be the vast battlefield that I fought in at that time. I saw, with great anguish, and sadness, as I fell. Slowly. My hair unraveled and caught some of the tears on my face from my pain. My white and brown colored horse, of hoped-in glory, fell at my side. I saw her eyes begging forgiveness as she saw me lie beside her. Those around me continued in the heat of the battle, but the sounds slowly dimmed, as I realized reality. No strength in battle, no hope in glory. It was over. I was over. There was no hope.
Slowly, my eyes closed. Soft thoughts of all I held dear came to my memory. I did not entertain disbelief in the fall, but began to reconcile with the loss . . . and I gave up. I gave in.
A hand touched my shoulder. I saw him for a brief moment. But I don’t remember much. I couldn’t really remember what he looked like. But two things exuded from him: great strength . . . and great kindness.
I think I rode on his horse. I think he took me far from the battle. Even now, I’m not quite sure where the battle was, or how it fares. But I’ve recently woken up . . . back here. And I am rescued from the battle, though it may wage on.
And though my hope gave up, and I did not see the valor and courage that I desired to be, there was a peace that rested over me that I couldn’t explain.
But one thing I knew. I no longer cared about the battle. I did not care about the glory or the strength to be grown in my own soul. Of trying so hard on my own, and for my own. I cared only of one thing. I wanted to know him more.
And so, as I sit here on the cliffs overlooking the ocean, and as I close that book to the battle traveled, I do leave a bookmark . . . for the story will continue. I will know him. I will love him. And I will be ever in awe of his great strength . . . and indebted to his great kindness.
I put my hand over the cover, feeling the flower print engraved in the leather. Written. There, lay the secrets of a dream, partially traveled, and partially to come. There, written. Secrets of the heart, and mind, and soul. I lifted my head to look down over waves crashing along the rocky coast far down beneath me. Those dreams and secrets, seeming as wide as the ocean in front of me, and as far away, were somehow captured, at least a little bit, in the letters I wrote on those pages. There, in stories that would bring both pensive smiles and unstopped tears. There, in thoughts no one knew, nor could understand. There, where a heart felt its own sadness, and knew its own joy. There, where hope dared to rise, again, and again. And again.
I shut my eyes. The battlefield. I played it in my mind again. I think back to the beginning of the battle . . . and shake my head in mixed disbelief and confusion at its end. Like those who study their opponents in martial arts, I carefully reviewed the plays . . . in slow motion. Except, my battle was not confined to a ring. Nor was it as obvious.
Happy hobbit music hummed in my head as I saw myself joyfully enjoying the friends around me; enchanting, distant, melodic notes gained heartfelt volume as I watched myself gracefully rise to the calls of love and honor. But chords turned minor and eerie, and darkly crescendoed, as scenes played in my mind of enemies sneaking up near me, unnoticed. Of black, formless creatures reaching out to envelope me into a nothingness. Of feelings . . . a mixture of utter terror with paralyzed passivity . . . determination that fought against a desire to fall into the darkness. To give up. And of a mind grown weary with deferred hope, exhausted fighting, and feared defeat.
But at this moment, the very emotions I despised, fear and anger, channeled into energy and determination. Hurt, into compassion for another’s hurt. Shame, into hope of a day wrong would be made right. Light was born. And, I believed.
And, that moment, I vowed: when memories begin to become fuzzy and hope begs to let go, I will hope still. I will imagine the stillness of the quiet rivers, and green slopes, sitting with friends, and laughter. I will trust that the battle will soon be over. And though another will come, it always does, I will see peace in the land, and I will rest. And so, I will remember that time is a tool, rather than measurement, to the wielding of patience. And hope is a very hidden, yet powerful, strength.
And, so I fought on. With grace, with strength, with hope.
But at this part, my mind stopped in its memory of the battle. This part I payed close attention to, for I became confused.
The battle did not end. Nor, did I see my strength. Nor, did the object of my hope, green slopes and peace in the land, come. From the top of that pinnacle over San Diego, I opened my eyes and imagined the ocean to be the vast battlefield that I fought in at that time. I saw, with great anguish, and sadness, as I fell. Slowly. My hair unraveled and caught some of the tears on my face from my pain. My white and brown colored horse, of hoped-in glory, fell at my side. I saw her eyes begging forgiveness as she saw me lie beside her. Those around me continued in the heat of the battle, but the sounds slowly dimmed, as I realized reality. No strength in battle, no hope in glory. It was over. I was over. There was no hope.
Slowly, my eyes closed. Soft thoughts of all I held dear came to my memory. I did not entertain disbelief in the fall, but began to reconcile with the loss . . . and I gave up. I gave in.
A hand touched my shoulder. I saw him for a brief moment. But I don’t remember much. I couldn’t really remember what he looked like. But two things exuded from him: great strength . . . and great kindness.
I think I rode on his horse. I think he took me far from the battle. Even now, I’m not quite sure where the battle was, or how it fares. But I’ve recently woken up . . . back here. And I am rescued from the battle, though it may wage on.
And though my hope gave up, and I did not see the valor and courage that I desired to be, there was a peace that rested over me that I couldn’t explain.
But one thing I knew. I no longer cared about the battle. I did not care about the glory or the strength to be grown in my own soul. Of trying so hard on my own, and for my own. I cared only of one thing. I wanted to know him more.
And so, as I sit here on the cliffs overlooking the ocean, and as I close that book to the battle traveled, I do leave a bookmark . . . for the story will continue. I will know him. I will love him. And I will be ever in awe of his great strength . . . and indebted to his great kindness.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Hospitality
When I got home this afternoon, I maneuvered my way around SDG&E guys working their way up a ladder into our attic, younger siblings with their friends off early because of testing this week, and my mom encouraging our dog to go through his new “doggy door.” And I love it! I love the energy!
I remember loving having “company” over when I was younger. I would run to turn on music or ask what they wanted to drink. If I could have done a Beauty and the Beast "Be Our Guest, Be Our Guest" dance, I would have! And I still love it today!
One of my favorite comedies is My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I can probably quote most of the movie, and I identify with feeling that my family is just a little bit “crazy” compared to most others! One of my favorite lines is when the mother asks the new “boyfriend” in the house if he’s hungry, to which he responds, “no,” and she says, “Okay, then I’ll make you something.” Love it!!
One of my friends, that drops in without notice, often remembers that quote with me. I may have just gotten off work, and she just come back from a dinner, but I have to make her something to eat. I mean, I can’t let her come over and not eat something . . . even if she says she’s not hungry!! I really do love having people over, making some tea or coffee, and snacks, and sitting down to talk and eat. Really, that is one of my favorite things to do!
In my Hebrews class, we’ve reached chapter 13, and have parked on verse 2 this week: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
I think back to some fun parties I’ve hosted recently—Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s, a Worship Night. Loved being a part of so many friends getting together!
But I’ve wondered recently if there’s more to this verse than merely getting together with friends.
Easter Sunday, my same friend (who invites herself over!), mentioned that an unsaved guy friend had recently watched the Passion of the Christ and had questions. “Come on over!” I invited them that night for coffee, dessert, and a late night convo. I also invited another guy friend whom I knew would be great at sharing the Gospel with this particular guy. As I began making our drinks, cutting cake, turning on worship music, I became excited for friends to come over to talk.
In my excitement I wasn’t prepared for a conflict with a family member to come up, and my mood to go sour (spiritual warfare?). What in the world??? I have three friends coming over to do what I love to do most, eat and talk, and share the Gospel, and I was in a bad mood!
Thankfully, God doesn’t depend on me for sharing of the Gospel! He did what He had planned that night, and my unsaved friend heard a clear presentation. I did get to pray silently while it was happening. But I also got to pray through my “things” with God, as He asked me to repent and give over everything to Him. I guess me surrendering over control of my life was what was important to Him that night. And I am always impressed at God’s multitasking abilities. He’s working the Gospel into the guy next to me, while He’s telling me to sit still, let go of my desire to control, and let Him do the work. If I learned anything that night, it was that He is certainly in control, not any other person, and not me! And I did get to find joy in the fact that my home was opened up to the preaching of Jesus!!
Hospitality.
What is it? I don’t know if there is a clear definition. From the context, I am assuming that it may even be broad.
In Genesis 18, Abraham saw three men come to his house. He made them an elaborate meal, washed their feet, and let them rest under a big tree in his front yard. Abraham gave of himself, to take care of, and make his guests comfortable. Two turned out to be angels, and one is believed to be a Christophony, Jesus Himself!
Jesus says in Matthew 25, that in the future He will separate the goats from the sheep. The sheep will have given water and clothes and shelter to others, helping the sick and those in prison, in the name of Jesus, and in so doing, they did this to Jesus Himself!
Wow! Hospitality is actually giving to Jesus!!! What an awesome, but terrifying, thought!
The verse just after the hospitality verse in Hebrews says this: “Remember the prisoners, as though in prison with them, and those who are ill-treated, since you yourselves also are in the body” (Heb 13:3).
In this part of our study, we looked up verses on the body, and our care for and devotion to each other. And, again, I was convicted!! Do I really care for others as I do myself??
We also watched a video on a former prisoner in Ethiopia. He had shared his new found faith with much courage to those in his country, but at that time, Ethiopia was communist and forbade it. Yet, this man refused to denounce Jesus, and was sent to prison to be tortured. I almost felt sick hearing of what happened to him. Though it was hard to think of what happened to this man, Heb 13:3 tells me to remember them. This man is in the Body with me. I am to think of him, pray for him, because Christ cherishes His body, and wants me to too! And, I can also rejoice in the work he is doing in Ethiopia (which is now free to the Gospel, and one of the most open countries in Africa!), as if I’m a part of it, because we are of the same body!!
So, hospitality.
Serving others through dinner, or inviting them over to eat, sit and talk. Providing shelter or food for those who need it. Acts of kindness and giving, even outside of my home, in visiting homeless and shut-in’s, and prisoners, and serving those in the body of Christ. Perhaps these can fall under this category too!
But in my hospitality, especially from that Easter Sunday, I’ve learned that it’s not about me! A bit back, I was the “snacks” girl for my young adults community for over a year. I loved thinking of what snacks to bring, and setting them out. At first, I really enjoyed serving in that way. But I also started to identify with that niche. I found more joy in identifying with the position than I found joy in seeing others blessed. . . thankfully, it was time to move on and let others step up to that position. I’m learning that I cannot see serving as merely relying on the comfort of a position, title, or being noticed or needed. I certainly feel a sense of belonging knowing that I have a gift, just like everyone else in the body does, but I am reminded that my gifts are not just for identifying with the body, but for SERVING the body!!
So, Lord, please help me to have a bigger picture. To see the Body as You do. To love the Body as You do. And as I am a part of YOUR Body, Your bride, and You cherish us. . . so let me cherish You by cherishing others in hospitality, serving, and love!
I remember loving having “company” over when I was younger. I would run to turn on music or ask what they wanted to drink. If I could have done a Beauty and the Beast "Be Our Guest, Be Our Guest" dance, I would have! And I still love it today!
One of my favorite comedies is My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I can probably quote most of the movie, and I identify with feeling that my family is just a little bit “crazy” compared to most others! One of my favorite lines is when the mother asks the new “boyfriend” in the house if he’s hungry, to which he responds, “no,” and she says, “Okay, then I’ll make you something.” Love it!!
One of my friends, that drops in without notice, often remembers that quote with me. I may have just gotten off work, and she just come back from a dinner, but I have to make her something to eat. I mean, I can’t let her come over and not eat something . . . even if she says she’s not hungry!! I really do love having people over, making some tea or coffee, and snacks, and sitting down to talk and eat. Really, that is one of my favorite things to do!
In my Hebrews class, we’ve reached chapter 13, and have parked on verse 2 this week: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
I think back to some fun parties I’ve hosted recently—Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s, a Worship Night. Loved being a part of so many friends getting together!
But I’ve wondered recently if there’s more to this verse than merely getting together with friends.
Easter Sunday, my same friend (who invites herself over!), mentioned that an unsaved guy friend had recently watched the Passion of the Christ and had questions. “Come on over!” I invited them that night for coffee, dessert, and a late night convo. I also invited another guy friend whom I knew would be great at sharing the Gospel with this particular guy. As I began making our drinks, cutting cake, turning on worship music, I became excited for friends to come over to talk.
In my excitement I wasn’t prepared for a conflict with a family member to come up, and my mood to go sour (spiritual warfare?). What in the world??? I have three friends coming over to do what I love to do most, eat and talk, and share the Gospel, and I was in a bad mood!
Thankfully, God doesn’t depend on me for sharing of the Gospel! He did what He had planned that night, and my unsaved friend heard a clear presentation. I did get to pray silently while it was happening. But I also got to pray through my “things” with God, as He asked me to repent and give over everything to Him. I guess me surrendering over control of my life was what was important to Him that night. And I am always impressed at God’s multitasking abilities. He’s working the Gospel into the guy next to me, while He’s telling me to sit still, let go of my desire to control, and let Him do the work. If I learned anything that night, it was that He is certainly in control, not any other person, and not me! And I did get to find joy in the fact that my home was opened up to the preaching of Jesus!!
Hospitality.
What is it? I don’t know if there is a clear definition. From the context, I am assuming that it may even be broad.
In Genesis 18, Abraham saw three men come to his house. He made them an elaborate meal, washed their feet, and let them rest under a big tree in his front yard. Abraham gave of himself, to take care of, and make his guests comfortable. Two turned out to be angels, and one is believed to be a Christophony, Jesus Himself!
Jesus says in Matthew 25, that in the future He will separate the goats from the sheep. The sheep will have given water and clothes and shelter to others, helping the sick and those in prison, in the name of Jesus, and in so doing, they did this to Jesus Himself!
Wow! Hospitality is actually giving to Jesus!!! What an awesome, but terrifying, thought!
The verse just after the hospitality verse in Hebrews says this: “Remember the prisoners, as though in prison with them, and those who are ill-treated, since you yourselves also are in the body” (Heb 13:3).
In this part of our study, we looked up verses on the body, and our care for and devotion to each other. And, again, I was convicted!! Do I really care for others as I do myself??
We also watched a video on a former prisoner in Ethiopia. He had shared his new found faith with much courage to those in his country, but at that time, Ethiopia was communist and forbade it. Yet, this man refused to denounce Jesus, and was sent to prison to be tortured. I almost felt sick hearing of what happened to him. Though it was hard to think of what happened to this man, Heb 13:3 tells me to remember them. This man is in the Body with me. I am to think of him, pray for him, because Christ cherishes His body, and wants me to too! And, I can also rejoice in the work he is doing in Ethiopia (which is now free to the Gospel, and one of the most open countries in Africa!), as if I’m a part of it, because we are of the same body!!
So, hospitality.
Serving others through dinner, or inviting them over to eat, sit and talk. Providing shelter or food for those who need it. Acts of kindness and giving, even outside of my home, in visiting homeless and shut-in’s, and prisoners, and serving those in the body of Christ. Perhaps these can fall under this category too!
But in my hospitality, especially from that Easter Sunday, I’ve learned that it’s not about me! A bit back, I was the “snacks” girl for my young adults community for over a year. I loved thinking of what snacks to bring, and setting them out. At first, I really enjoyed serving in that way. But I also started to identify with that niche. I found more joy in identifying with the position than I found joy in seeing others blessed. . . thankfully, it was time to move on and let others step up to that position. I’m learning that I cannot see serving as merely relying on the comfort of a position, title, or being noticed or needed. I certainly feel a sense of belonging knowing that I have a gift, just like everyone else in the body does, but I am reminded that my gifts are not just for identifying with the body, but for SERVING the body!!
So, Lord, please help me to have a bigger picture. To see the Body as You do. To love the Body as You do. And as I am a part of YOUR Body, Your bride, and You cherish us. . . so let me cherish You by cherishing others in hospitality, serving, and love!
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