On the corner of the desk at my mom and dad’s house, a stack of addressed envelopes in my mother’s handwriting remained for years. Three, four, or more. The cards inside were written to her nieces and nephews. One was for my daughter Lauren. I always wondered why they were never mailed, but one cannot argue with Alzheimer’s. Upon my mother’s death, we opened one that was not addressed, and we found a story from my mom and a letter. I think she wants you to have it. I think it’s all to say that everything will be okay.
I want to tell you a story. This is a true story. It is about me. How my life was changed.From Sharon Savage Petty
When I was a very little girl, before I went to school, our family went to a little white frame church. It was about a half a block east from our house. We walked to church every Sunday. I loved going to church. I loved Sunday School and Vacation Bible School. I loved all the songs and the stories that I learned. I loved Jesus and knew that He loved me. When I was in grade school, the church had grown so much that they decided to build a bigger church. It was built about half a block west of our house and it was made of stone. We continued to walk to church every Sunday morning and Sunday evening and sometimes on Wednesday night. I remember one of my Sunday School teachers more than any other. Her name was Mrs. Ward. It was about that time that I began to listen to what the preacher said that we are all sinners and need a savior. He said that Jesus died on the cross to save us from our sins. I knew at the young age of ten years old that I was a sinner and I wanted Jesus to be my Savior.
Our little Baptist Church asked people who wanted to invite Jesus into their lives to be Lord and Savior to come to the front as a witness of our commitment to follow him. I wanted to walk down the aisle to make that commitment, but I was a very shy little girl, and I couldn’t make myself go.
I believe it was the next Sunday. I will never forget what happened that day. I heard a small sound, and I looked across the church and saw one of the girls from my class at school. She was walking down the outside aisle. I thought, “If she can do it, I can too.” So I went down the aisle. I prayed to Jesus asking him to forgive my sins and be my Savior and Lord. It was a strong commitment to follow Jesus.
That afternoon, my Mother’s friend came over to visit. She said that she didn’t believe that I was saved, and she thought I went to the altar because my friend did. Her words put doubt in my mind, but I knew in my heart that Jesus was my Savior. That night when I went to bed, I prayed and prayed asking Jesus if I was really saved. I prayed for a very long time that night and, suddenly, I felt great peace come over me. I knew then for sure that I was saved. I got out of bed and went into the living room where my Mother was and told her that I really believed that I was saved. She said, “I believe that you are too.”
I truly know that Jesus has been with me since that day. He promised us that He would send His Holy Spirit to be our Counselor, Guide, and Teacher. He helped me understand the Bible. The Fruit of the Holy Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22). I can’t say that I have had a perfect life, but I can say that I have had “A Wonderful Life”. My relationship with Jesus has grown through the years. I read my Bible and pray often. I am very thankful for the life I have had. I have been truly blessed. I hope that you will make a commitment to follow Jesus and have a personal relationship with Him too. I can truly recommend him.
At the beginning of December, I started Year One of what I hope is a new tradition. I challenged myself to read the Book of Luke, an entire account of Jesus’s life, a chapter a day, leading up to Christmas. Below. My summaries. My interpretation follows. I’m no Bible scholar, just a regular person, trying to be better than the person I was yesterday. Maybe next year I’ll add to this outline. Maybe this year you’d like to join me for the last ten days of Luke.
The angel Gabriel appears to Elizabeth’s husband and Mary (separately) to announce immaculate conceptions for both.
Jesus is born.
Within the chapter he is twelve, listening and asking questions of temple teachers.
He grows in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man.
Genealogy of Jesus.
Jesus is tested and rejected, and he heals the sick.
Jesus call his first disciples.
He heals leprosy and forgives and heals a man with paralysis.
He eats with sinners.
Jesus prays before choosing his disciples/friends.
He heals more and more people.
Love your enemies.
Do not judge and you won’t be judged.
Forgive and you will be forgiven.
Jesus performs a resurrection.
He forgives a sinful woman.
He teaches with a story of debts and forgiveness.
Jesus teaches with parables—the seed sower and the lamp on the stand.
Jesus chooses his family.
He calms storms.
Jesus gives disciples the power and authority to heal and humbly spread news of God.
Jesus feeds five thousand, heals more people, and speaks about God’s kingdom.
Peter declares Jesus the Messiah.
Jesus, as son of man, says—
That he must suffer.
That he will be rejected and killed.
That he will be raised from the dead.
Follow me if you want to save your life (for everlasting life).
Peter, John, and James pray with Jesus on the mountain.
Jesus transforms and his face glows.
Moses and Elijah appear in glorious splendor and speak of Jesus’s departure.
A cloud descends and God speaks—“This is my son, listen to him.”
Jesus heals another person and predicts his death a second time.
He tells his disciples to get rid of their egos.
He says—Whoever is not against you is for you.
On the way to Jerusalem (to his death)—
Jesus isn’t welcomed by the Samaritans, and he moves on.
People say they will follow him, but they have excuses in the moment.
Jesus sends out 72 to spread God’s word.
He teaches with the parable of the Good Samaritan.
At Martha and Mary’s house, Martha busily prepares to be a hostess.
Mary spends time with Jesus.
Martha is bitter about her self-imposed work.
Jesus tells Martha that Mary’s choice is better.
Jesus teaches his disciples to pray:
Give thanks, ask for forgiveness and help in forgiving others and help with temptations.
Ask and it will be given, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you.
Jesus says that kingdoms and houses divided will fall.
Jesus says to let the light within you shine.
Jesus instructs us to be generous to the poor.
Jesus says, “Whoever acknowledges me before others…will also acknowledge before the angels of God.”
“Everyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven.”
Jesus teaches with the parable of the rich fool.
Jesus tells us we won’t prolong our life through worrying.
Jesus says, “Be ready…the son of man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.”
He says that there will be division in families and asks, “Why don’t you judge for yourself what is right?”
Jesus instructs us to repent or perish and uses the parable of a man who has a fig tree that doesn’t bear fruit.
The advice to that man is—leave it alone for another year and see what happens.
Jesus heals a crippled woman who cannot stand straight.
Jesus uses the mustard seed and yeast parables for God’s growing kingdom.
Jesus says that the entrance into God’s kingdom is a narrow door.
Jesus hears that Herod wants to kill him. (This is a different Herod than Herod the Great who tried to have Baby Jesus killed).
Jesus heals a man with abnormal swelling.
In a wedding feast parable, Jesus concludes, “Those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
In the parable of the great feast, the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame are invited.
Being a disciple costs you yourself. “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”
No matter what you believe about Jesus or Christianity, in Luke we see Jesus spreading good news and deeds, in a humble, non-preachy way. He’s a natural teacher, using stories that allow people to draw their own conclusions. He doesn’t judge, and he forgives. Satan tests him, others reject him, and he suffers. Such is life. I believe that he calms storms and heals people and resurrects the dead to show us perfection in the afterlife. I don’t know about you, but Jesus gives me hope—and shows that our struggles strengthen us, that better days lay ahead. I could use a little hope. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and good tidings to you!
Have you ever opened the bible at random to find a divine message from God? Perhaps I have. If so, it’s been awhile.
A day or two after Thanksgiving, my daughter Lauren called to tell me about her encounter with God. I could hear her smile and energy through my cell phone. “I opened the Bible and ended up in Amos, and I was like, ‘Amos, where am I?’” She laughed her twenty-eight-year-old laugh. “And this is what I found, I’m going to read it.” She hesitated through the words. “‘Seek good, not evil, that you may live. Then the LORD God Almighty will be with you, just as you say he is’ (Amos 5:14). The words were bolded. They jumped off the page. I was like, ‘Seek good, not evil.’” She paused. The way she phrased the scripture sounded more like a question. “Of course, that makes sense.”
And I said, “No matter what you believe, the Bible has some good advice.”
Lauren agreed, and eventually we said our goodbyes, and a day or so later while Facebook scrolling, I found this:
I texted the image and a message to Lauren: I saw this today. I think I’m going to do this.
She texted me: Oh that sounds good maybe I should do that
Me to her: We could read it and talk about it. New tradition.
And so I read Luke 1. If I ever knew the story, I didn’t remember that the angel Gabriel appeared to Elizabeth’s husband as well as Mary to announce immaculate conceptions for both. Two immaculate conceptions. One for a menopausal woman. The other for a virgin. I love a good miracle. Miracles keep my hope alive.
On December 1, my friend Denise called. Denise, my friend since age five. I told her about Luke, and she wanted to join Lauren and me in the new tradition.
Later she texted me and some friends: I’m reading Luke – a chapter a day. I hadn’t remembered Mary going to Elizabeth (mother of John the Baptist). All we need is that one friend right!?! God knew.
And I texted: Love that perspective.
And Cheri texted: Same here. I’ll join you.
And now for Luke 2. Let me tell you, Luke is not messing around. He jumps into the story. Jesus is born, and within the chapter he is twelve. Sitting among teachers at the temple. Listening. Asking questions. Growing in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.
And no matter what you believe, Jesus was a good guy. We could all learn a little something through him. Who’s in? New tradition. The reason for the season.
Church started with Pink Floyd last Sunday. Technically it was Domino. With his iconic dreads and electric guitar, he sang, “On the Turning Away.” I saw it online, and I just happen to have a link. Next came Jeff Jones, he’s the senior pastor, and the current series is “Love Like Jesus.” Feel free to scroll on. I’m posting it believing someone might need to hear and will watch.
Jeff started out his sermon with some word associations: “If I said ______, you would say _____.” Eventually making it to his point. “If I said, ‘Christian,’ I don’t know what you would say, depending on what your experience is…”
I knew where Jeff was going. I knew what should go in the blank, but I’ll be honest, my first thought was not positive. Forgive me for going there. I know there are lots of good Christians, amazing humans who give generously of their time and resources and have an unbelievable level of grace for others. But I also know lots of people who won’t step foot into a church…who feel judged by Christians…who have had bad church experiences. Almost daily during my online scrolling and sometimes in overheard conversation, I hear and see Christians passing judgement. And I think—what would Jesus do? What would Jesus say? What would Jesus post?
Jeff continued, “…but I know what we should be able to say, what anybody in the world should be able to say whether they are Christian or not or believe anything about Jesus…the first thing they should think about when they think about ‘Christian’ is love…because that’s the one thing that Jesus said,…’Love like I love.’”
The weekend before last Ryan Leak kicked off the series. He’s a teaching pastor and a professional speaker. And the strange thing is—I saw him for the first time preaching at a church in Houston about a year ago, and then suddenly he’s popping up at my home church back in Dallas. Throughout the pandemic, Chase Oaks Church is my go to for Sunday mornings. I find extra inspiration and hope here. The sermons are archived on their website if needed, and you can fast forward through the music—or not.
Anyway, I go to church each Sunday for my weekly attitude adjustment. I am far from perfect. FAR. But I try. On the day of this U.S. Presidential election, I might not be perfect. Despite results, I’m sure I’ll need to be back in church by Sunday.
Jesus knows we’re all messed up. He offers forgiveness as a gift. And because He would, I’m sending love and peace your way—no matter who or where you are, no matter what you’ve done or what you believe. ❤️
“I’m gonna fight ‘em all / A seven nation army couldn’t hold me back.”
The White Stripes
I’ve heard the White Stripes in my head this past week, and their words convey my attitude. As I leave my house each day for my morning walk, my posture and stride seem to say, “Do not get in my way because I will kick your ass.” And that’s how I’ve been making my way through recent days. I carry this mixture of fury and hope, this “I will spit in your eye” mindset along with “God, please help me and most of all please help Drew.” My friends and prayers keep carrying me like a gondola up the mental health mountain I face.
Drew came by our house yesterday morning. The morning sun backlit his silhouette as he unlocked the front door and stood at the threshold. His long curly hair stood on end. A white boy’s afro. He said he was going to use the restroom.
“Did you sleep at the group home last night?” I said.
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. He proceeded to the bathroom where I heard the flush and then into the garage where I heard the buzz of a variable speed drill. Alone in the house, I decided to write this post.
If you happened to read my post about prayers and friends carrying me last week, you know my son Drew was in the behavioral health hospital. Hospitalization #6. After ten long years of battling paranoid schizophrenia. Drew still has good days. When he left with HPD for the hospital, I found crystal meth in his room. How long have I been finding meth in his room? Has it been two years? Did I ever find meth three years ago when we lived in the La Quinta after the hurricane? How many times have I thrown meth in the trash? Where does he get his money to buy? Is he selling it? Does he have a medication efficacy issue? Is meth or schizophrenia the larger problem? These questions beat me down. Who knows?
Anyway, Drew spent five good days at the hospital. I have no idea what they did for him because he is thirty years old, and HIPAA laws protect his privacy. Drew reports that nothing happened, which could be true or false. The hospital doctor determined he was good to go. No further treatment necessary. The problem is Drew’s behavior leading up to the hospitalization proved dangerous to himself and/or others. Over the past three years, his delusions have progressively worsened along with his reactions to what he hears and believes. His dad and I are not willing to have him in our home at this time, partly because of a police report filed by our neighbors that in part led to his hospitalization. His psychiatrist is aware and unhelpful. Hospitalization #6 was unhelpful. Drew agreed to stay in a group home following his discharge.
By the way in Texas, group homes are not accredited in any way. If I wanted to open a group home for mentally ill patients and feed them and oversee their medication, I could—TOMORROW. IF. If you want to make some money, or at least have someone else pay your mortgage, move to Texas, open a group home, call psychiatric hospitals, and let them know you are open for business. From what I understand, it doesn’t take much more than that. Also, Texas ranks near the bottom of our fifty states for mental health expenditures per capita. Go figure. Should we move?
A Mr. Taylor drove Drew from the hospital to the God’s People group home where Drew called an Uber and returned home to pick up clothes and his car. His car that he had been using as his personal trash can. The same car I had removed trash from little by little—four full kitchen trash bags of McDonald’s trash, two uneaten apple pies and an empty sardine can, seemingly unending soda bottles and cans, empty American Spirit cigarette packs and cigarette butts everywhere—all kinds of empty cardboard box recycling—from a Ryobi Variable Speed Drill to a floor lamp, a Kobalt Retractable Hose Reel with Hose, a DeWalt Heavy-Duty Electric Wheeled Portable Compressor, and sex toys. Oh, and laundry, lots of dirty laundry. Some of which went straight to the trash. Some of which I’m airing now. Again I ask, where in the world is Drew getting this money? Have I been burying my head in the sand? All I know is that I have done the best I can. There is NO REASONING with mental illness, and NO ONE seems to want to help. Oh, unless, we happened to be millionaires. We MIGHT get some help that way. By the way if you Google God’s People in Houston, you won’t find anything. When I type the address into Google maps, I see the location of this group home in a one-story house in a residential neighborhood, likely three bedrooms and two baths.
So—after being released on Thursday, Drew didn’t spend Thursday or Friday night at the group home. However, he had been in contact with me by phone, and he was okay. He said, “I’m at a friend’s.”
“Are you planning to go back to the home?” I said.
“Yes,” he said. Drew is good at telling me what I want to hear. Like when I say, “Will you take a shower?” or “Will you take a trashbag and clean all of the trash out of your room?” I repeat the same question for his car. His response—always the same. Years and years of yesses. How are we supposed to help? By telling him he can no long live with us? By towing and selling his trashed out, torn up, paid for 2010 Honda Accord? I’m tired, and I’m trying to live my own best life despite challenges. How do you help someone who doesn’t want to help himself?
Mr. Taylor says he will let me know if Drew shows up, and for my own mental health I drive to the beach on Saturday. Drew makes a Saturday group home appearance—forty-eight hours after his hospital release. Mr. Taylor texts me about his arrival, and stupidly we pay a pro-rated fee for September housing. I say stupidly because Drew is at home when I return from the beach. He has eaten the leftover pizza, and I am thankful for his nourishment. We have a peaceful conversation about his aquarium and the fish he has recently purchased for his bedroom, and I am thankful for the calm. Drew says, “Their names are Patches and Duke and Catfishy.”
I say, “I named them Tom, Dick, and Harry.”
“Those are terrible names,” he says, and I am thankful for the laughs. Then, he leaves for the night.
Do you remember where this started?
Drew came by yesterday morning. The morning sun backlit his silhouette as he unlocked the front door and stood at the threshold. His long curly hair stood on end. A white boy’s afro. He said he was going to use the restroom.
“Did you sleep at the group home last night?” I said.
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. He proceeded to the bathroom where I heard the flush and then into the garage where I heard the buzz of a variable speed drill. I would’ve thought the noise a buzz saw if I hadn’t found the cardboard box for the drill in his car. Alone in the house, husband out of town, I decided to write this post. Drew was gone within the hour.
Drew probably slept in his car last night. Possibly for the last four nights. If he’s lucky, he has a friend. Officially this means Drew is homeless. AND THIS IS THE PROBLEM WITH MENTAL HEALTH IN THE GREAT UNITED STATES OF AMERICA (and exactly why I want to kick somebody’s ass).
Mid-rage, I stumbled onto Perth Girl’s Saturday post. It begins, “The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still” (Exodus 14:14).
Perth Girl wraps it up by saying, “Be still, my friend, be still. Let the Lord be your shield and your sword. Let Him be your rock and your shelter. Be still and surrender to Him, leave room for God to work, let Him fight for you.”
Then I went to church at Chase Oaks online, and the service ended with this song. Do I hear God’s voice?
And so, as I attempt to re-make my own Monday, to re-make my own week, my own life, today, I choose to let the Lord fight my battles, to be still and surrender, to let go and let God. Oh, and I do have one phone call to make—to a church that can potentially help me. That might not happen today. 🙏🏻
“And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time/’Till touch down brings me round again to find/I’m not the [wo]man they think I am at home/Oh no no no I’m a rocket [wo]man…”
Today, I hear Elton John’s “Rocketman” in my head. As I launch into a new semester, I know I’ll be spending a long, long time—not in outer space—but in that space between my ears. It’s weird. To think how often I feel a disconnect between the person I am outside of my head and the person I am inside my head, or even a difference between the person I am outside of my home and the person I am inside my home. All I know for sure is that I’m on a journey to be—my best me. That’s my goal. And each day I just try to be better than the person I was yesterday. So I’m a student, with a May 2021 graduation date, advancing confidently in the direction of my dreams, endeavoring to live the life I have imagined for myself, and meeting with a success unexpected in common hours. Thanks for the inspiration, Henry David.
Speaking of inspiration, did you know that Ray Bradbury’s 1950s short story “The Rocket Man” inspired the lyrics of Elton John’s 1970s song? Both are stories of an astronaut torn between his family and his mission into space. I just love how creativity sparks creativity. How a story can be re-made into a song, which can be re-made into another song. How a person’s story can morph from elements of doubt to faith, ingratitude to thankfulness, anxiety to peace, despair to hope, selfishness to generosity, ignorance to knowledge, weakness to strength, anger to kindness, grudges to forgiveness, sadness to joy, hate to love. Need I go on? Isn’t that amazing? How we can re-make it all!!
Speaking of re-makes, here’s a fun 2013 bluegrass cover by Iron Man with some pretty awesome banjo!
She felt everything deeply, this girl named Blue. She was a mystery to many, her best friends deep and true.
When her eyes shimmered in fury, to her private garden she withdrew. Honeysuckle hung thick on vines, in the bed daisies grew, on picket fences roses climbed, she breathed in gratitude.
Full on she faced the golden sun hung high in the azure sky. She said, “I feel you, Dear One, Be well. Love and peace unto you.”
This post brought to you by the capital letters T and Y, a big THANK YOU for my lovely friend Barbara @ https://altairtheatre.com. One day I will meet her in Barcelona for sangria and tapas and a tour of the Sagrada Familia, and travel to her home in the south of France, and visit her theatre, and dance on the stage, and breathe in gratitude for the deep sapphire blue of the Mediterranean Sea. I believe this, and so it is true. I’m completely humbled by her friendship and two gifts—the Mystery Blogger Award and the Original Outstanding Award. Hopefully, A Girl Named Blue answered her questions. I helped out a bit below.
• If you were a color, which one would you choose?
• What’s your favorite smell?
• Which movie character would you have liked to be? Hermione Granger of the Harry Potter series. For books and cleverness, borderline genius, and of course, magic. If I were magic, my signature superpower would be healing.
• What do you do when you are angry?
• What is so mysterious about you? If I told you, it wouldn’t be a mystery.
• Do you like mysteries? Of course. Life is a mystery, and so are people, until they let you in.
I was ten years old when my Dad left his firm and launched his solo law practice, where he practices forty years later. The whole family was there checking out his new office, the new space, and the new Xerox machine. My big sister Liz said, “Let’s Xerox our faces.” No matter what she would’ve suggested, I would have followed. But she protected me always!
Liz pressed her face, nose on glass against the scanner and the blinding tubular light traveled left to right. The machine discharged the copy. Hilarity ensued. When my turn came, Liz coached. “Close your eyes, really tight,” she said, and look at how well I followed my sister’s advice. I love a good lesson with specificity and demonstrated examples and words of encouragement.
And this Xerox copy reminds me of my ten-year-old self, fun-loving and sister-adoring, adventurous and creative and happy. More than anything, I want to do right by that little girl. I want her to be proud of and true to herself, confident and unapologetic, strong in body, mind, and spirit. I want her to love wholly and forgive fully. Zero grudges. Not an ounce of poison in her soul. I want her to be honest and courageous. I want her to maintain her boundaries for bullshit and remember she can do hard things. And most of all, I want her to live out her God-given purpose.
What do you want for your ten-year-old self?
As I round out this A-Z blogging challenge, I have some fairly fuzzy ideas for Y and Z and leftover ideas for P and K and C and other ideas on less grateful topics. My laptop hard drive crashed right in the middle of my W post, so that was wack. Thank God for my iPhone! And thank you for reading and pressing that little star and leaving kind comments and checking out other posts and praying for my family! Hand on heart, I’m beyond grateful for this WordPress family and for those of you who follow by e-mail and social media, and I’m completely humbled that you choose to spend your time with me. ❤️❤️❤️ More gratitude posts linked below:
My son Drew is a cellist. These days he doesn’t play often. His cello stands in its case next to the media console in our living room. The voices Drew hears stand in the way of his gift.
But—I have a vision. I believe in better days and a brighter future. I decided long ago that I can choose hope or not, and I choose hope. I wouldn’t know how to do that without God, and I lean on the words of the good book:
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalms 147:3).
“Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness” (Matthew 9:35).
“Then [Elijah] stretched himself out on the boy three times and cried out to the LORD, “LORD, my God, let this boy’s life return to him! The LORD heard Elijah’s cry, and the boy’s life returned to him, and he lived” (1 Kings 17:21-22).
I believe in a God who will return Drew’s life, a better life with a cello to play and the light in his eyes. And today, I have a gift for you, actually Drew does. Four years ago, Drew managed the symptoms of his schizophrenia better than he does today. He found an app on his phone that allowed him to record a four-part cello piece, and he makes it sing. It’s the gift—I hope you have a minute to listen:
It looks as though I will make it to the end of my April A-Z blogging challenge. I had some doubts along the way, but I kept doing what I do—being grateful each day. All of this goes to show the importance of our beliefs. Life is not perfect. And now for those times when my world shakes so hard that the sky falls off my life, I have a little collection of reminders to help me carry on:
I woke up to Good Friday and said to myself, “Duh! J is for Jesus.”
It was just before the Passover Festival. After the evening meal, Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and predicted his betrayal. Then Jesus said, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34-35).
As an English teacher, I notice he said, “must.” Love is imperative.
The night before Jesus carried his own cross to his own crucifixion, he commanded his disciples to “Love one another.” As a believer, I try. I’m the first to admit, I’m not perfect. I like to say that I get along with 99% of everyone I know, and the other 1% is not my problem. I admit to using the word hate from time to time, and honestly I hate myself for that. I hate to give someone else that sort of power over me. And so I ask myself—what would Jesus do? And I try to follow His teachings and live with His love and strength, His grace and forgiveness. And you know what? I can’t do that on my own.
If you’ve been following my A-Z blogging challenge, thank you so much! Tomorrow I plan to rest and enjoy an Easter celebration, I wish all the same for you, and I hope to see you Monday with gratitude for the letter K.