More holiness give me,
More strivings within,
More patience in suff'ring,
More sorrow for sin,
More faith in my Savior,
More sense of His care,
More joy in His service,
More purpose in prayer.
More gratitude give me,
More trust in the Lord,
More pride in His glory,
More hope in His word,
More tears for His sorrows,
More pain at His grief,
More meekness in trial,
More praise for relief.
More purity give me,
More strength to o'ercome,
More freedom from earthstains,
More longings for home;
More fit for the kingdom,
More useful I'd be,
More blessed and holy,
More, Savior, like Thee.
By Philip P. Bliss - and it says what we need to say every day.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Wow, it's been a looong time...
Yes indeedy! I've not blogged for ages, it seems. Well, there will be no way to catch the blog up on everything. Suffice it to say that life steams on at a great pace - and they tell me that it only gets faster as one get's older. Frightening thought!
I heard a sermon yesterday about death. It may seem morbid to think about, but I've found it helpful today to remember that I could die any moment. Not another second is promised. Why, I could die before I finish typing this paragraph! When I remember how transient life is, it spurs me to think eternally. Is my life pleasing to the Lord? Am I going out and making disciples? Do I love as I ought? Am I working for Him? I am praying tonight that the Lord will give me the strength to remember each day how fragile life is and to use the moment I have now to bring glory to Him!
I should run. It is late and, if I am given tomorrow it appears to be a full day.
God Bless!
I heard a sermon yesterday about death. It may seem morbid to think about, but I've found it helpful today to remember that I could die any moment. Not another second is promised. Why, I could die before I finish typing this paragraph! When I remember how transient life is, it spurs me to think eternally. Is my life pleasing to the Lord? Am I going out and making disciples? Do I love as I ought? Am I working for Him? I am praying tonight that the Lord will give me the strength to remember each day how fragile life is and to use the moment I have now to bring glory to Him!
I should run. It is late and, if I am given tomorrow it appears to be a full day.
God Bless!
Monday, May 4, 2009
Thoughts On Communication
This semester, I've had the opportunity to take an "Interpersonal Communication" class. It's been enlightening, as you will see.
Did you know that for a relationship to succeed, four out of every five interactions must be positive? Really now? I had no idea that in order for a relationship to be good you ought to have more positive than negative encounters. I paid a lot of money to learn that.
Did you know that the only way for people to understand you is for you to be honest about your feelings? Um...Nope. That was a little over my head. I really thought people could just read my mind.
Did you know that the best way to resolve a conflict is to look for a "win-win solution"? Really? I thought that the best way to resolve a conflict was to manipulate the other person.
Yep, yep, I got my money's worth.
Did you know that for a relationship to succeed, four out of every five interactions must be positive? Really now? I had no idea that in order for a relationship to be good you ought to have more positive than negative encounters. I paid a lot of money to learn that.
Did you know that the only way for people to understand you is for you to be honest about your feelings? Um...Nope. That was a little over my head. I really thought people could just read my mind.
Did you know that the best way to resolve a conflict is to look for a "win-win solution"? Really? I thought that the best way to resolve a conflict was to manipulate the other person.
Yep, yep, I got my money's worth.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Next Installment
This piece that I had to read for English Lit was interesting. Maddening, actually. I had to actually read it twice before I could write about it. The piece was "A Modest Proposal" by Jonathan Swift. My thoughts were:
In his piece, A Modest Proposal, Jonathan Swift decries the poverty of Ireland’s children. He notices them running rampant in the streets, neglected and hungry. Frustrated with a system that caters to rich landlords and devours the poor, he attempts with satire to display the ridiculousness of the attitude of the rich. He proposes that the poor sell their children as food for the rich. Since the rich already take everything the poor own and consume their money, why not allow them also to eat child’s flesh. He targets landlords, the government, and Catholic-hating Protestants for oppressing and taking advantage of the poor. With satire, he shows them that their actions are just as revolting as selling children as food.
I am surprised because I intersect with A Modest Proposal more than I would expect. We live in a country where the problem of child poverty, though still alive, is much dissipated. However, I feel that we have gone to another extreme in our country. We reward laziness with Welfare and our children still suffer from poverty stricken homes. Perhaps the problem lies not with the lack of government involvement in the lives of poor people but with an attitude that poverty itself is inherently bad. Children, both poor and rich, suffer from depravity of the worst sort. Parental attention and love have all but disappeared from many American homes. Children need love, not money. They need consistent rules and boundaries, not more commodities. If a child goes without many “necessities”, ie: more than one pair of jeans, socks without holes, etcetera, and yet grows into a law-abiding, kind, godly person, they have suffered very little in the way of development. However, a child lavished with every nicety known to man who grows up selfish and defiant has suffered much and likely will be more unhappy than the poor person. If a child goes without physical comforts and in addition is allowed to run the streets and govern himself, he likely will grow up rebellious as well. It appears to me that a child who is consistently loved and disciplined grows into a more enjoyable and useful adult than if he is either coddled or emotionally neglected and that economic wellbeing has very little to do with it.
I feel that I should qualify what I’ve said. I do believe that we ought to help the poor if possible, and that the government can be a useful tool in accomplishing this. I believe that if children are well managed, and adults are hard-working, helping those who are underprivileged is a worthy endeavor. However, I do not believe that those who refuse to work should be coddled or ignored, but rather given work to do that they might provide as much as possible for themselves. If we are willing to work for what we need, the extra help from churches or governments is well appreciated. Working in the medical field helps me to see that so many who receive help and are not required to work see the help as “owed to them” and become selfish and demanding. When I see laziness rewarded and selfishness bred, I question whether we have not come to an equally appalling and hurtful extreme as is decried in A Modest Proposal.
What, therefore, do I propose? I propose quite simply to require people to work, even to work hard, for the help that they receive. Idleness produces a plethora of evils, such as drunkenness, substance abuse, sexual crimes, and more. As a society, we have allowed selfishness and laziness to take over. Children ought to be educated properly, fed enough to be full and clothed well enough to be warm. Adults ought to work as hard as they must to provide for their families. If children must work after school to help support themselves, let them work. We speak of “letting children be children”. By this we mean, “don’t let them work or take life too seriously until they are grown.” I argue, however, that a child who learns at an early age to work hard and think seriously has a better chance of succeeding as an adult.
Let us consider the words of the wise man in the book of Ecclesiastes, “Here is what I have seen to be good and fitting: to eat, to drink and to enjoy oneself in all one’s labor in which he toils under the sun during the few years of his life which God has given him; for this is his reward. Furthermore, as for every man to whom God has given riches and wealth, He has also empowered him to eat from them and to receive his reward and rejoice in his labor; this is the gift of God.” (Ecclesiastes 5:18-19) This man wisely tells us to work hard and to enjoy what we earn from what we work, be it little or much. I choose to take his advice and work hard and help those in need when able. What will you choose?
In his piece, A Modest Proposal, Jonathan Swift decries the poverty of Ireland’s children. He notices them running rampant in the streets, neglected and hungry. Frustrated with a system that caters to rich landlords and devours the poor, he attempts with satire to display the ridiculousness of the attitude of the rich. He proposes that the poor sell their children as food for the rich. Since the rich already take everything the poor own and consume their money, why not allow them also to eat child’s flesh. He targets landlords, the government, and Catholic-hating Protestants for oppressing and taking advantage of the poor. With satire, he shows them that their actions are just as revolting as selling children as food.
I am surprised because I intersect with A Modest Proposal more than I would expect. We live in a country where the problem of child poverty, though still alive, is much dissipated. However, I feel that we have gone to another extreme in our country. We reward laziness with Welfare and our children still suffer from poverty stricken homes. Perhaps the problem lies not with the lack of government involvement in the lives of poor people but with an attitude that poverty itself is inherently bad. Children, both poor and rich, suffer from depravity of the worst sort. Parental attention and love have all but disappeared from many American homes. Children need love, not money. They need consistent rules and boundaries, not more commodities. If a child goes without many “necessities”, ie: more than one pair of jeans, socks without holes, etcetera, and yet grows into a law-abiding, kind, godly person, they have suffered very little in the way of development. However, a child lavished with every nicety known to man who grows up selfish and defiant has suffered much and likely will be more unhappy than the poor person. If a child goes without physical comforts and in addition is allowed to run the streets and govern himself, he likely will grow up rebellious as well. It appears to me that a child who is consistently loved and disciplined grows into a more enjoyable and useful adult than if he is either coddled or emotionally neglected and that economic wellbeing has very little to do with it.
I feel that I should qualify what I’ve said. I do believe that we ought to help the poor if possible, and that the government can be a useful tool in accomplishing this. I believe that if children are well managed, and adults are hard-working, helping those who are underprivileged is a worthy endeavor. However, I do not believe that those who refuse to work should be coddled or ignored, but rather given work to do that they might provide as much as possible for themselves. If we are willing to work for what we need, the extra help from churches or governments is well appreciated. Working in the medical field helps me to see that so many who receive help and are not required to work see the help as “owed to them” and become selfish and demanding. When I see laziness rewarded and selfishness bred, I question whether we have not come to an equally appalling and hurtful extreme as is decried in A Modest Proposal.
What, therefore, do I propose? I propose quite simply to require people to work, even to work hard, for the help that they receive. Idleness produces a plethora of evils, such as drunkenness, substance abuse, sexual crimes, and more. As a society, we have allowed selfishness and laziness to take over. Children ought to be educated properly, fed enough to be full and clothed well enough to be warm. Adults ought to work as hard as they must to provide for their families. If children must work after school to help support themselves, let them work. We speak of “letting children be children”. By this we mean, “don’t let them work or take life too seriously until they are grown.” I argue, however, that a child who learns at an early age to work hard and think seriously has a better chance of succeeding as an adult.
Let us consider the words of the wise man in the book of Ecclesiastes, “Here is what I have seen to be good and fitting: to eat, to drink and to enjoy oneself in all one’s labor in which he toils under the sun during the few years of his life which God has given him; for this is his reward. Furthermore, as for every man to whom God has given riches and wealth, He has also empowered him to eat from them and to receive his reward and rejoice in his labor; this is the gift of God.” (Ecclesiastes 5:18-19) This man wisely tells us to work hard and to enjoy what we earn from what we work, be it little or much. I choose to take his advice and work hard and help those in need when able. What will you choose?
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Next one.
This paper was an extra credit assignment I did for my English Literature class. We had to watch the movie Dead Poet Society and write a response to it. The following was my response.
Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society opened at the beginning of a semester at Welton Academy, a private school for teenage boys. At the heart of that particular semester was John Keating, a revolutionary English teacher. Rejecting “normal” teaching tactics, Mr. Keating (or “O Captain, My Captain,” as he preferred) endeavored to instill in his class both a love for poetry and the ability to think independently. Among the boys under his tutelage were Neil, Charlie, Todd, and Knox. After discovering that Mr. Keating was once the leader of the “Dead Poets Society,” Neil decided to reconvene the Dead Poets. The new chapter of the Dead Poets held meetings at night in the traditional Dead Poet meeting place, a cave not far from the school. The meetings often grew wild, but some of the boys took Mr. Keating’s messages to heart and strove to think for themselves and “seize the day”. “Carpe diem!” echoed in their minds and they wished for the strength to do so. Neil led the way when he chose to act in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream against his father’s wishes. Others followed. Neil’s story ended tragically the night his father withdrew him from Welton and commanded him to give up acting and focus on his future career as a doctor. Distressed with his plight and his inability to communicate with his father, Neil shot himself. The repercussions at Welton Academy were astronomical. The Dead Poets were disbanded, and Mr. Keating discharged. In a final moment of truth, the shy Todd found his voice. As Mr. Keating prepared to leave, Todd rose to his feet in the presence of the president of the school, stepped onto his desk and “O Captain, My Captain” escaped from his lips. Other boys followed suit. Mr. Keating still left, but he left knowing his mission was accomplished. A classroom of boys knew how to think independently.
Wow. I began watching Dead Poets Society late one night. I was tired and afraid I’d fall asleep. In the beginning, I felt as if I would. I enjoyed the movie but it moved slowly. However at some point, without knowing when, I developed an emotional tie to these characters. I never cried so bitterly during a movie before. Neil’s suicide took me completely by surprise and Todd’s willingness to finally stand up at the end tore at my heartstrings and I sobbed like a child. Many emotions raged through my heart. Anger. Sadness. Determination. This film had affected me in a way few others had ever done. I had learned some powerful lessons.
As the tears coursed down my cheeks, I determined that my new motto would be “Carpe Diem!” Each new day would present new opportunities to be seized, and I would seize them. I knew I was not guaranteed the next day, so I decided that each day would be lived as if it were my last. Each opportunity to do the right thing would be taken and regrets would be forgotten.
Finally, I thought of my future children. Like all people, I hoped for them many things. In my girlish dreams of parenting, I wished them to be intelligent, to be great, perhaps to be doctors, lawyers, preachers. Yet with Dead Poets Society I learned a valuable lesson and I purposed never to pressure my children to be what they did not wish to be. Teach them, yes. Give them opportunity, yes. Mold them, yes, but free thinkers they would be! Free to follow their dreams; free to pursue those free thoughts they would think.
I greatly appreciated the message of Dead Poets Society and willed the powerful emotion never to fade. Yet, I knew it would. That moment was the only moment I was guaranteed. Therefore, lest I forgot the powerful message, I whispered to myself as I drifted off to sleep, “Carpe Diem!”
Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society opened at the beginning of a semester at Welton Academy, a private school for teenage boys. At the heart of that particular semester was John Keating, a revolutionary English teacher. Rejecting “normal” teaching tactics, Mr. Keating (or “O Captain, My Captain,” as he preferred) endeavored to instill in his class both a love for poetry and the ability to think independently. Among the boys under his tutelage were Neil, Charlie, Todd, and Knox. After discovering that Mr. Keating was once the leader of the “Dead Poets Society,” Neil decided to reconvene the Dead Poets. The new chapter of the Dead Poets held meetings at night in the traditional Dead Poet meeting place, a cave not far from the school. The meetings often grew wild, but some of the boys took Mr. Keating’s messages to heart and strove to think for themselves and “seize the day”. “Carpe diem!” echoed in their minds and they wished for the strength to do so. Neil led the way when he chose to act in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream against his father’s wishes. Others followed. Neil’s story ended tragically the night his father withdrew him from Welton and commanded him to give up acting and focus on his future career as a doctor. Distressed with his plight and his inability to communicate with his father, Neil shot himself. The repercussions at Welton Academy were astronomical. The Dead Poets were disbanded, and Mr. Keating discharged. In a final moment of truth, the shy Todd found his voice. As Mr. Keating prepared to leave, Todd rose to his feet in the presence of the president of the school, stepped onto his desk and “O Captain, My Captain” escaped from his lips. Other boys followed suit. Mr. Keating still left, but he left knowing his mission was accomplished. A classroom of boys knew how to think independently.
Wow. I began watching Dead Poets Society late one night. I was tired and afraid I’d fall asleep. In the beginning, I felt as if I would. I enjoyed the movie but it moved slowly. However at some point, without knowing when, I developed an emotional tie to these characters. I never cried so bitterly during a movie before. Neil’s suicide took me completely by surprise and Todd’s willingness to finally stand up at the end tore at my heartstrings and I sobbed like a child. Many emotions raged through my heart. Anger. Sadness. Determination. This film had affected me in a way few others had ever done. I had learned some powerful lessons.
As the tears coursed down my cheeks, I determined that my new motto would be “Carpe Diem!” Each new day would present new opportunities to be seized, and I would seize them. I knew I was not guaranteed the next day, so I decided that each day would be lived as if it were my last. Each opportunity to do the right thing would be taken and regrets would be forgotten.
Finally, I thought of my future children. Like all people, I hoped for them many things. In my girlish dreams of parenting, I wished them to be intelligent, to be great, perhaps to be doctors, lawyers, preachers. Yet with Dead Poets Society I learned a valuable lesson and I purposed never to pressure my children to be what they did not wish to be. Teach them, yes. Give them opportunity, yes. Mold them, yes, but free thinkers they would be! Free to follow their dreams; free to pursue those free thoughts they would think.
I greatly appreciated the message of Dead Poets Society and willed the powerful emotion never to fade. Yet, I knew it would. That moment was the only moment I was guaranteed. Therefore, lest I forgot the powerful message, I whispered to myself as I drifted off to sleep, “Carpe Diem!”
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Sharing
This may be a very boring thing for some (hence, the name of this blog...). This semester, I've written several papers. I thought that I would share some of the better ones with you all. For my English Literature class, we've had to read a piece, summarize it briefly and then right a personal response. I've attempted to be "real" in my responses, so these papers in some small way reflect my thoughts, views, and emotions about some things. Please don't feel at all required to read them. The first one follows. :-)
In his poem, “The Slave Ship”, Heinrich Heine brilliantly satirizes the slave trade. Mynher van Koek embodies the slave ship owner worried about the health of the slaves on his ship so that he can make money when he arrives in Reo de Janeiro. Seven slaves die in one day because of the horrible conditions in the small hold of the ship. Many of them have pretended to die because they would rather face the throes of the sea than to be in the hold of the ship. The ship surgeon seems somewhat sarcastic as he suggests that the captain force the slaves to revel in order to preserve their health. The surgeon loses nothing by the slaves living or dying, and therefore cares little for their health. In order to preserve the health of his “merchandise” van Koek forces the slaves to dance and make merry. Unknown to all on board the ship the sharks look on, waiting for their next inevitable meal. Meanwhile, the captain prays that God take pity on the slaves – so that he can make the money he wants.
In general, I do not enjoy poetry unless someone sets it to music. However, I enjoyed “The Slave Ship”. I despise seeing men misuse and abuse one another so the slave trade sickens me. Books like Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe strike a chord in my heart and make me cry even now that the slave trade is abolished. I am amazed and disgusted that mankind displays such cruelty. That anyone can call men “merchandise” infuriates me. However, I must ask myself, “Do I treat everyone as I wish to be treated?”
When people walk into the pharmacy where I work, some of them drunk, some of them suffering from serious psychological disorders, I often feel repulsed. When waiting on a man so heavily medicated that he cannot keep his tongue in his mouth, I want to finish as quickly as possible so that I can go wash my hands and forget about him. Do I really care about these people? Do I want to help them, or do I think of them as “less than human”? When people have less intelligence than I, do I remember that they are people too, or do I simply dismiss them as “stupid”? If I cry over the abomination of the slave trade and then go to work and fail to see people as important, my tears are worth nothing.
Throughout history, men have mistreated one another. The slave trade is only one example. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo decries the horrible treatment of petty criminals. The Diary of Anne Frank speaks of a time when Jews were detested. In the United States, African American people have often been discriminated against, and now I see the disgust shifting to Hispanics. Haven’t we learned our lesson? Human beings ought to be respected and treated well. It matters not whether someone is less educated than I or if he is a different color or speaks a different language; he is person and ought to be treated that way.
I am challenged by “The Slave Ship”. Though I live in a time when the slave trade no longer exists, the need to treat men well has not abated. I am determined to do better in my treatment of others, and in my thoughts about them. I do not want to be guilty of discrimination based on so trivial a thing as intelligence or race.
In his poem, “The Slave Ship”, Heinrich Heine brilliantly satirizes the slave trade. Mynher van Koek embodies the slave ship owner worried about the health of the slaves on his ship so that he can make money when he arrives in Reo de Janeiro. Seven slaves die in one day because of the horrible conditions in the small hold of the ship. Many of them have pretended to die because they would rather face the throes of the sea than to be in the hold of the ship. The ship surgeon seems somewhat sarcastic as he suggests that the captain force the slaves to revel in order to preserve their health. The surgeon loses nothing by the slaves living or dying, and therefore cares little for their health. In order to preserve the health of his “merchandise” van Koek forces the slaves to dance and make merry. Unknown to all on board the ship the sharks look on, waiting for their next inevitable meal. Meanwhile, the captain prays that God take pity on the slaves – so that he can make the money he wants.
In general, I do not enjoy poetry unless someone sets it to music. However, I enjoyed “The Slave Ship”. I despise seeing men misuse and abuse one another so the slave trade sickens me. Books like Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe strike a chord in my heart and make me cry even now that the slave trade is abolished. I am amazed and disgusted that mankind displays such cruelty. That anyone can call men “merchandise” infuriates me. However, I must ask myself, “Do I treat everyone as I wish to be treated?”
When people walk into the pharmacy where I work, some of them drunk, some of them suffering from serious psychological disorders, I often feel repulsed. When waiting on a man so heavily medicated that he cannot keep his tongue in his mouth, I want to finish as quickly as possible so that I can go wash my hands and forget about him. Do I really care about these people? Do I want to help them, or do I think of them as “less than human”? When people have less intelligence than I, do I remember that they are people too, or do I simply dismiss them as “stupid”? If I cry over the abomination of the slave trade and then go to work and fail to see people as important, my tears are worth nothing.
Throughout history, men have mistreated one another. The slave trade is only one example. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo decries the horrible treatment of petty criminals. The Diary of Anne Frank speaks of a time when Jews were detested. In the United States, African American people have often been discriminated against, and now I see the disgust shifting to Hispanics. Haven’t we learned our lesson? Human beings ought to be respected and treated well. It matters not whether someone is less educated than I or if he is a different color or speaks a different language; he is person and ought to be treated that way.
I am challenged by “The Slave Ship”. Though I live in a time when the slave trade no longer exists, the need to treat men well has not abated. I am determined to do better in my treatment of others, and in my thoughts about them. I do not want to be guilty of discrimination based on so trivial a thing as intelligence or race.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Hello
I got tired of looking at the same post everytime I logged in so I decided to say hi so that you don't have to look at the same old thing either.
Life stays busy. The semester is half over and this week brings me four midterm exams to take. Phew! That stresses me out just a little. Four tests in two days is just a lot, I think. I think my professors all got together and said, "Let's give The Boring One a heart attack and make her take five tests in two weeks. Oh, and lets make four of them be within one week!" Crazy.
Anyway. I'm surviving and grateful that I've been given the strength to continue on. I pray all is well with all of you.
Life stays busy. The semester is half over and this week brings me four midterm exams to take. Phew! That stresses me out just a little. Four tests in two days is just a lot, I think. I think my professors all got together and said, "Let's give The Boring One a heart attack and make her take five tests in two weeks. Oh, and lets make four of them be within one week!" Crazy.
Anyway. I'm surviving and grateful that I've been given the strength to continue on. I pray all is well with all of you.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Procrastination
The Boring One currently has a house to clean, two papers to write, chemistry homework to finish, and multiple chapters to read in her history books. However, she chooses to procrastinate and write this blog post that few people will read, and even fewer will benefit from.
Why, one might ask, does the Boring One choose to write this when she has two whole papers to write? One must understand that the Boring One loves to write - things that she chooses. (Although, often she learns to enjoy writing on assigned subjects as well.) However, the first paper, due two days from now, troubles her as she must write about Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal", which she simply does not enjoy. She realizes its satirical nature, of course, but simply feels sick upon reading about children being sold as food. The second paper interests her a little more, as she must write about the trial of Anne Hutchinson. However, that paper requires more research, something she has not yet learned to enjoy. (Why look through hundreds of articles and books to find three to five sentences to quote?)
The Boring One enjoys the snow immensely. She has heard rumors of a possible twelve more inches on Monday, and although she doubts it will come, she can hope!
Tonight, the Boring One plans to attend a gospel meeting. She looks forward to spending time worshiping with other Christians and learning more about worship.
Now, the Boring One must attend to the other tasks that call her. Adieu, my friends!
Why, one might ask, does the Boring One choose to write this when she has two whole papers to write? One must understand that the Boring One loves to write - things that she chooses. (Although, often she learns to enjoy writing on assigned subjects as well.) However, the first paper, due two days from now, troubles her as she must write about Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal", which she simply does not enjoy. She realizes its satirical nature, of course, but simply feels sick upon reading about children being sold as food. The second paper interests her a little more, as she must write about the trial of Anne Hutchinson. However, that paper requires more research, something she has not yet learned to enjoy. (Why look through hundreds of articles and books to find three to five sentences to quote?)
The Boring One enjoys the snow immensely. She has heard rumors of a possible twelve more inches on Monday, and although she doubts it will come, she can hope!
Tonight, the Boring One plans to attend a gospel meeting. She looks forward to spending time worshiping with other Christians and learning more about worship.
Now, the Boring One must attend to the other tasks that call her. Adieu, my friends!
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