Thursday, August 18, 2011

My dad had a heart attack

My dad had a heart attack.

While I was walking up and down the beach and bobbing in the swells, washing sand out of my hair and eating delicious grilled dinners by Jonathan, while I was feeling guilty for going to the beach in North Carolina instead of to Minnesota, wondering when I would ever see my parents again, asking Shawn every day, "When can we go to Minnesota again?" dad had a heart attack.

They didn't, apparently, have the right cell phone number to reach me. His heart attack was Thursday afternoon a week ago, but I didn't find out until Friday evening when I noticed a facebook message from my niece, Abby, telling me that my sister and my mom had been trying to reach me.

It was a bad heart attack, but even more disturbing was that it came out of the blue. He survived, so that is truly wonderful, a blessing, a gift of more time, a relief, and great reason for gratitude.

My grandparents all lived into their nineties, so I never expected anything to happen to my dad before he hit 80.

Well, to be completely honest, Grandpa Rainbow, my dad's dad, died when he was 89. But he was a smoker, and he had lung cancer and emphysema and leukemia. He survived a ruptured aortic aneurysm when he was about 81, and he still recovered and lived to be 89. And he wasn't all that healthy, his lungs were bad. My dad's lungs are fine.

Dad has low cholesterol and he passed a stress test two months ago with flying colors. There was no reason to think he would have a heart attack.

I found myself feeling very angry. I was angry that this should happen to my dad, My Dad, who always took such care of himself and exercised and ate healthy food and worked hard all his life. And I was angry that I live so far away. I was angry that I couldn't be there to do anything, and I was angry that I've spent the past 23 years of my life 1400 miles away from my parents, against my will, all because of a job that isn't even mine. Things I thought I'd dealt with, come to peace with, trusted God with all surfaced and spilled out in tears and confusion and regret, and I was angry.

Last night I was at flock group (a small group through the church we've been attending). We are studying Revelation, which is not my favorite for many reasons which I will not get into. I don't always have the best attitude about studying Revelation. But I was there trying, trying to learn, trying to have a better attitude, trying to participate.

We were discussing Revelation 9 which is a bleak chapter about the terrible judgments that will be poured out on those who reject God. It just describes these awful horrors, and then at the end it says that the people would not give up their sin, no matter what happened, and refused to bend their wills, repent and follow the Lord. This led us to discuss the question: "Whose fault is it when people reject God? God's? Or theirs?"

I think we were supposed to come to the understanding that it is not God's fault. And yet, if you believe that it requires an act of the Holy Spirit to grant wisdom to believe (John 16:8, Ephesians 2:1-5, 1 Corinthians 1-2), it is hard to say that we have the power to reject Him when He is calling us into His kingdom.

I was pretty confused, but then the pastor leading the group said, "If God can arrange all the details of life and know exactly who will believe and who will not, if He has sovereign control over the way everything will turn out in the end, then can't we trust Him to be in control of the details of our lives, to know what is best for us in order to accomplish His purposes in us? Doesn't this tell us that we can trust Him with every circumstance and know that He will work all things for good in our lives?"

I was not sure where that came from, or how it actually related to the rest of the study, but I felt in that moment that God knew exactly what I needed to hear, and He spoke through that pastor to me, reminding me, "I am God, I am in control. You can trust me." I remembered Acts 17:26 which tells me, "From one man He made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and He determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live."

God knows where--the exact place--I am supposed to live (and everybody else). God knows--has set the time, in fact--when my dad is supposed to die (and everybody else). I do not need to struggle, strive and be angry, to feel guilty, discontented and miserable. Nothing I do will change the eternal plan of God, and God is good, so His plan is good, too.

I just need to trust God.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Frozen peas and the Atlantic horizon

Last night I found part of a bag of frozen peas, lonely in the freezer.

We’d spent an extra long time out at the beach, and when we got back to the house we were so tired we saved the marinated chicken to grill “tomorrow” (today). Instead, Jon grilled up a bunch of Hebrew National franks I’d intended for a lunch, and we had a weird, cobbled together, vegetable-less dinner. I discovered that plain yogurt mixed with honey and cinnamon is rather delicious.

Of course I felt guilty for the lack of balance in the meal (Shawn ate two franks and two bowls of granola). So when I found the peas, I symbolically hit myself on the forehead and said, “Argh. Here are some frozen peas I should have served with supper!”

The kids wanted to eat them then and there, frozen, from small bowls. We ate them in the living room while relaxing with a little TV.

We are a bit sunburned now. You have to get just a tad sunburned right before you go home, or you would be far too sad to leave. The sunscreen we’ve been using, Coppertone WaterBabies Lotion Spray, SPF 50, has been impressively effective. I’ve figured out a good sunscreen; yay, me.

About six or eight months ago, I had everything figured out. Shannon would go to graduate school at Notre Dame. David would transfer to Wheaton. Shawn would get a job in Chicago. And… Ta Da! We would live within one day’s drive of my parents, and Shawn’s parents, too. In fact, we’d be about exactly in the middle between them.

David did not transfer to Wheaton. He stayed where he was. And instead of choosing Notre Dame, Shannon moved another five hours to the east, the opposite direction. Now if Shawn gets a job opportunity in Chicago, I’m not sure I even want to go.

I get things figured out, and they never come to pass. Like our land. We bought it a couple of years ago, and we keep paying taxes on it, but we never seem to build, or even to come near getting our present house ready to put on the market. I thought we would build a house with a beautiful in-law apartment and have the privilege of spending the late years with my parents after missing family fellowship for the last two decades.

While we were walking on the beach the other morning, I told David, “I get things all figured out, but God never seems to like my plans much.” David told me that we always plan what would be most comfortable for us, and God knows that our comfort is not our greatest good. He has something better for us.

When we get comfortable, we just settle in and don’t notice what is happening to us. It’s like at the beach when you go out to bob in the swells, and you think you are just hanging around in one place, but after about twenty minutes, you look back to see where your chairs and umbrella are, and you realize that you have drifted quite a distance up the shore.

Yesterday Shawn and Laura and I set our chairs in the edge of the water and sat looking out at sea and sky, watching breakers roll. The tide was coming in, and after awhile Lu and I decided that there was a little too much water hitting us. We moved our chairs back, but Shawn wanted to stay where he was.

We sat a distance behind him, and watched him sink lower and lower into the water. I’d have loved to get a photo of him there; it looked like a scene on a poster. All horizontal lines stretched from east to west: the changing, foamy white lines of the breakers, the real horizon where the sea meets the sky, the thin white clouds extending across the blue above, even the horizontal cobalt and aqua lines patterning the fabric of Shawn’s beach chair, which made a small, colorful square in the vast expanse of gray-green sea. And above the top of his chair rose his beautiful neck and the back of his strong head which looks more like the head of a twenty-five year old than that of a forty-seven year old, due to his full crop of brown hair. His beard is white and grizzly, but he was facing away (and he will shave as soon as we get home).

He sat there all stubborn as the water swelled around his legs and then around his waist. While we watched, the lines on his chair became more diagonal than horizontal. The waves began to lift him chair-and-all when they struck, lifting and then dropping him at angles ever more askew. Finally a wave struck that nearly toppled him over in a chair-inclusive backwards summersault, and then he got up and moved his chair back.

Like being at the sea-shore, living life is a matter of anticipation, keeping your eye on a mark and adjusting your path in order to reach it. Settling in is a fiction. You can’t settle in and just stay in one comfortable spot. You can fight this truth, or you can embrace it, but if you ignore it you will come to ruin.

I can plan for a week at the beach with menus and activities, movies, books and even a strategy: go to the beach later in the day so if you forget to reapply sunscreen, by then the power of the sun is waning and you won’t get burned so badly. I can thwart the prophesies of the churlish checker at Walmart and use up the food I bought for the week.

But can I plan and live my life in accordance with the will of God? Or do I have a choice?

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Yesterday was a glorious beach day

Yesterday was a glorious beach day. It was less hot and less humid, and the waves flowed much more gently. I like to stand in the water about up to my waist and jump into the waves as they bulge towards me. My favorite is when the waves don’t break, but just loom up around my neck and lift my body in a rolling motion. I told Shawn, “I just love these waves that don’t break!” He grinned at me and said, “They are called swells… because they are swell!” He is so full of puns. Usually I don’t laugh at his puns, but I laughed at that one.

We stayed out for a very long time yesterday. Lu and I set our chairs in the edge of the ocean and sunbathed while the waves randomly hit us and cooled our lower portions. She asked, “Why have we never done this before?” I suppose it is because it was only last year that we decided to go with a cheaper house further back from ocean-front and use some of the savings to rent a beach wagon, chairs, beach umbrella and gas grill. I think it’s a good trade.

We stayed out so long I didn’t know if we were ever going to go back, it was just so nice. And then a big wave came along and hit me before I had a chance to plug my nose. I was quite calm under the water, and never lost my sense of where the top should be. But when I came up, I had the weirdest sensation in my head, all itchy and scratchy in my throat and ears. I didn’t taste any salt water, so I had apparently kept my mouth shut. I’m not sure what happened, but the discomfort in my throat and ears began to build. I stumbled out of the water and sat in my beach chair with my towel over my head, finally gathering myself enough to walk back to the house. I guess that’s the way with all of life. We rarely stop doing what we are enjoying until something unpleasant comes along and forces us in a different direction.

Two more days here and today looks like another beautiful one. I woke up at 7:30 and went to see if DJ wanted to go for a walk. He needed ten more minutes, so I read my Bible on the deck: Psalm 46, which was a nice break from Revelation and a great comfort, besides. Then we took a beautiful walk under the newly risen sun, dabbling in the edge of the gentle morning surf and watching the little birds with skinny beaks like big, black pine-needles, scuttling around, poking into the sand for their breakfast. There were a lot of senior citizens taking their morning exercise; I guess pretty soon I will be one of them. It is heartwarming to see wrinkled, white haired couples walking hand-in-hand down the beach. On the way back, we walked into the sun, and the whole ocean in front of us shone with its reflection. I think in heaven it will be bright like that, but when we are there, we will have eyes strong enough to look right into the brightness and love it without getting a headache.

When we got back to the house, it was quiet. Yesterday upon arriving back, we heard a female voice belting out operatic notes. DJ said, “That sounds like Laura.” Actually, it sounded more like Shannon, but since that clearly wasn’t possible, we figured it must be Lu. It definitely had the ring of our family’s unorthodox style. But when we went inside, everyone was still either sleeping or quietly doing morning reading in their respective rooms. The song was coming from the house behind us, the one where little children roll out their play-dough on the back porch and the men play cheeky baseball in the empty lot next door. It was kind of nice to realize that there are other people as quirky as we are.

So today is Thursday and the food is almost gone, even though the checker at Walmart sneered at us when he saw our cart on the night we arrived. That was a nightmare of a trip, 7000-plus clueless tourists wending their way through the mixed up aisles at Walmart with no sense of purpose or direction. I had a list, which I had made from a menu plan I had developed especially for our trip. It included meat for Jon to grill five out of our seven nights here, along with ingredients for side dishes and items from which we could produce breakfasts, lunches and a few snacks. We had a big cart full of food, but not as big as many a cart I have seen people buy. We are here for a week with two big, hungry sons, one 20 years old and one almost 16, both over six feet tall.

“You’re gonna need two carts,” the checker growled at us as we arrived at our turn in line. I thought this vaguely ridiculous, but Shawn obligingly went and got another cart to hold our bagged groceries. “You people,” said the checker, the metal jewelry in his pierced tongue dulling the pronunciation of his words, “You people waste so much food. I have friends who clean the vacation rentals you people stay in, and they don’t buy food all summer long because they can eat off what you people leave behind.” I thought he should be thankful, or at least, his friends should be, that they didn’t have to buy food. But I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be wasting much. I plan meals and pray for leftovers. I told him, “I have two big teenage sons, and they will eat this right up.” I guess it wasn’t strictly true, since DJ is now 20, but the checker just growled and said, “Humph. I’ve heard that before.”

I’m pretty sure all the meat will be gone, except for maybe just enough to pack some sandwiches for the trip home. I will probably have to get more bread to accomplish that, though. The fruit will be gone by the end of the day today, and the fresh vegetables are gone except for a few baby carrots; we’ll be moving on to canned veggies today. I can take canned food home with me if we don’t eat it, too. Jon said, “I hope his friends like mustard, because that’s about all we’ll be leaving behind.”

Well, here’s another entry that is too long and precludes advice to my daughters. Maybe later today I’ll write something to them. I need to get back to the beach, take some pictures, soak up some salt, sand and sun.

And Jon says I have to eat my last nectarine soon, because it is getting shriveled up. I was trying not to run out of fruit.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The beach is different this year

The beach is different this year.

There are gobs of people, for one thing. Or perhaps globs.

There have always been people here in the summer. When we come in April, it is usually pretty deserted, but there have always been families here in the summer… families with toddlers and grandparents, teenagers in love, young couples, sibling groups reconnecting with all of their spouses and children. But they have been in quantities where they are beautiful, people groups you can identify and imagine where they came from and what their week will be like.

This year there are just masses of indistinguishable humanity on the beach. As far as the eye can reach along the strand, cabanas sit over sets of human flesh massed around coolers, stretching off in each direction until the haze of heat dissolves them into a blur.

Maybe it is the new bridge. I don’t mind saying I hate it. There used to be an old (antique?) swing bridge. It only let a single lane of traffic on or off the island, so you always had to sit and wait your turn at the light. It took even longer if you found yourself traveling “on the hour”, because then the bridge actually closed to road traffic for ten or fifteen minutes while it swung around and opened up to let the watercraft pass through the bay behind the island. But now they have built a new bridge, a towering concrete monstrosity. Driving across it feels like riding up and down a rollercoaster. And when they finished it, they tore the old bridge out. Shawn says they had to do it because if somebody had a heart attack on the island it would have taken too long to perform rescue operations. The beach is so different now though, so many people.

It doesn’t help that while we have been here, prime beach hours have coincided with high tide, meaning that the strand is at its narrowest during the time when everyone wants to be on it.

I don’t know if it’s because it has been high tide, but the beach has seemed particularly rough this year, harsh. The wind literally howls and hisses with sand particles, and the ocean crashes and booms as though it wants (along with me) to drive all these people away. When I have gone into the gray-green water, it is warm and salty but full of energy. When I least expect it, it smacks me hard on the side of the head, or in the stomach, taking my breath away as though it were punching me.

It is still therapeutic. Yesterday was very hot, something like 98 degrees with a heat index over 100, but the ocean has a way of cooling you right down. I found myself with goosebumps at times. When I went up on the sand to warm up, the unrelenting wind in my ears and eyes was wearing me out until I discovered (after watching Laura) that wrapping a beach towel around my head provided huge relief, keeping sand and noise out of my facial cavities. I could even peek out a tunnel of towel to watch Jonathan cavort on his skim board, something I had been trying to see all afternoon but had been unsuccessful because the weather conditions kept forcing me to shut my eyes and miss his best tricks.

I sat there in a beach chair with my upper half under the shade of our umbrella, my legs sticking out into the sun. I held a bottle of water from our cooler, its bottom a small circle of wet cold soaking through my bathing suit onto my stomach. I ate some ice from the cooler and drank the water, listened to the sand hissing in the wind and the ferocious waves smashing themselves into the shore, and I felt like I was on vacation.

It is Wednesday, and we are settled into the beach house now, our vitamins and supplements spilling across the kitchen counters, computers in every corner, glasses for tooth-brushing on the bathroom vanities, dirty clothes in piles in each bedroom, books spread through the living areas on every end table, our DVDs in the DVD player. Of course there are bathing suits and towels hanging from every conceivable vantage point. I try not to think about the packing up and leaving.

Today is cooler. DJ and I got up at 8:30 and went for a walk on the beach. The tide was mostly out and the strand was wide. The majority of people weren’t up yet. The breeze was the gentlest it has been; my eyes didn’t start to water once. Back at the house, I made spinach and mushroom frittatas for breakfast, then grabbed a cup of coffee with cream to bring out on the porch after I’d eaten. The sky is blue with fluffy, scattered cumulus clouds. The forecast said we were going to have thunderstorms all week, but so far we’ve had good beach weather every day. Today looks like it might be the prettiest day so far.

I was going to write “Good-bye, girls—part 3”, but that can come on a later day. Sometimes it is just right to live in the moment.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Good-bye, girls--part two

Today I am writing from the beach, and Shannon is not with us. She is just starting a new season of life and could not break away for a vacation this summer, although I think she really could have used one. I booked a beach house with a bed for her, and there sits the bed, reproachfully empty, in Laura's room.

We have a pink house this year. I've always wanted to stay in a pink house. Not only is it pink, it even has a hammock on the porch.
The porch faces west, so it is a nice, shady place to sit in the morning and write, as I am doing now, although we should have gone to church. For an introvert like me, going to church in the south, with a bunch of strangers, and having to meet them and talk to them... well, that's just not "vacation." I don't want a vacation from the Lord, or His word. But sometimes I just like to indulge my hermit tendencies and hole up away from the world, and I am doing that today. I'm sitting on the porch, listening to bugs chirp and air-conditioners hum while Jon swings lazily in the hammock. I am afraid that Jon has pink eye, which I suppose is another reason to stay out of the public.

I wanted to write to my girls about relationships today. Not romantic relationships, specifically, but just relationships. So here goes...

To my daughters:

Relationships are important, probably much more important than I have been able to communicate to you over our lives together. In my last post in this series, I mentioned that some of the things I wanted to write to you had to do with hard lessons I have learned through making mistakes. Introvert that I am, I have never demonstrated to you the importance of reaching out and nurturing relationships.

I suppose it was in the seventies when they used to say, "Everybody needs somebody." It sounds "seventies" to me, anyway. Maybe there was even a song with those words in it. But it's true. Everybody does need somebody.

You need real relationships, give and take relationships. I have taught you to be fiercely independent, to cynically examine popular trends and make your own decisions based on logic, not popular opinion. I've told you the story about how once, in middle school, a friend of mine told me, "Ruthie, you need to stop getting all A's. Boys won't like you if you always get straight A's." And how I said nothing, but in my mind I thought, "Pish. If a boy won't like me if I have straight A's, then I don't think he's worth having anyway." I made the decision then and there to pursue academics over relationships, which was a good decision, the right decision, but it needs to be qualified... I was not willing to sacrifice my academics for the sake of attracting a boy, but that doesn't mean that academics should always trump love. And they definitely should not trump friendship.

In the midst of pursuing success, remember that if you get to the end and you have the stellar record, the great job, and all the awards and accolades, if you don't have anyone to share them with, life will be empty indeed.

So cultivate relationships.

Learn people's names and make a point of smiling at them and greeting them by name, even if they don't seem friendly. (I know you do this with people you like.)

When you are with people you like, ask them questions about their lives. The next time you see them, pick up where you left off... "How is your mother doing?" or "Did that interview work out for you?" or "How was your trip?" Demonstrate that you are interested in them and that you care about them. Everyone appreciates this.

When Shannon was in soccer, she once had a coach who trained the team members to concentrate on getting "touches," meaning that it was significant each time an individual made contact with the ball, whether or not she actually scored. In building relationships, concentrate on "touches." Each time you smile at someone, greet someone, ask after someone's issues, each one of these counts as a touch. Try to get in as many as possible each day.

Think about people at the end of the day. Think through the people you have contacted ("touched") and pray for them. Ask God to show you if there is anything He wants you to do for any of them. Be willing to make a phone call, write a note, or make or buy a small gift. Or He may give you an entirely unique and creative idea. Work with the Lord and be proactive about reaching out to people, not because I did, but because I should have, and my life would have been so much richer if I had.

Learn to be a giver, and I don't mean giving away all your stuff, and your cookies besides, although that may be something God would lead you to do. What I really mean is: learn to give of yourself, your time, your attention, your prayers. Train yourself to be generous and trust God to take care of the things you need when you spend yourself on others.

You do not need to do this for the whole world. Start out with a broad base, but over time, God will probably draw your mind and circumstances to 3-5 special friends. Do not form a clique, but do treasure and nurture your relationships with these people. God has created us to live in community. That's why He designed the church. Churches don't always fulfill the purpose God created for them, but that doesn't discount His purpose.

Jesus said, "Do to others as you would have them do to you." If you wish someone would be there for you, try being there for her (or him). Remember that self-focus can easily become a matter of selfishness, and pray each morning and evening that the Lord will open your eyes to the people around you and make you sensitive to what you can do for them.

There's an old adage that joy comes from putting Jesus first (J), others second (O), and yourself last (Y). I never taught you that, and I never demonstrated it very well at all. I spent a great deal of my life feeling overwhelmed and wishing that someone would miraculously appear to help me. I couldn't fathom how I could possibly help anyone else from where I was. I pray that your lives will be so much richer than that, so much more fulfilled and less isolated. I pray that you will nurture friendships and enjoy the blessing of fellowship and community that come when we get our eyes off ourselves.

Pray for me, too, that I will also do better in this area in the future. Shanny-woo, Lulubelle, I love you so much.

Click here for the next post in this series.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Good-bye, girls--part one

We moved Shanny again last weekend. We moved her out of her summer sub-let and into a permanent unit where she can stay until she finishes her degree, if she so chooses. She has a bedroom, a bathroom, a large walk-in closet, a long room that serves as study, living room and dining room, and a tiny kitchen around the corner. It is an institutional building, about 60-70 years old, built of brick with block walls and linoleum tile floors. But after we cozied it up with some rugs and furniture, it is pleasant and cheerful. She has three large windows that look out onto a green, treed courtyard in the middle of these brick buildings. She will be snug there.

Three weeks from now, Shawn and I will be home after moving Lulu back to school as well. And then I will be daughterless.

I cannot really imagine what that will be like. Up to now, whenever one of the girls has been gone, the other one has been home. But this fall, it will be me and the guys. I will see what life would have been like if we had only had two children, and they were both male.

In the meantime, I am feeling a strong need to impart words of advice to my girls. As a mother, you are never prepared for them to be gone and on their own, never quite ready to stop taking care of them. You fret that you have forgotten to teach them all kinds of important things.

So here is what I would like to say to them. Some of these things are based on what I have done in my own life that has worked, and some are based on my painful mistakes, and my desire to shield my girls from traveling undesirable paths.

To my daughters...

Read your Bible every day.
You do not need to read terribly long portions of your Bible, but never let a day go by without taking in some scripture. It is spiritual food, and without it your spirit will starve. Jesus said, "It is written, 'Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'" (Matthew 4:4, quoting Deuteronomy 8:3)

A good goal is to shoot for reading a chapter a day. Some days perhaps you will only read the section under one division heading in a chapter. Other days you might read only one or two verses, and then write them on a notecard and keep them in your pocket to remember through the rest of the day. Some days you might find yourself engrossed in something and read two or more chapters. It really doesn't matter, as long as you are reading something every day.

It is good to do your reading in the morning, because often if you put it off, it gets crowded out of your schedule. It is also nice to read a portion of scripture at night, right before you fall asleep, to set you mind on things above. I would recommend trying to do both and making sure that you do at least one.

Pick a book of the Bible and read through it. When you finish, pick a new book of the Bible. Keep a nice marker in your Bible so you always know where you are. This way you won't find yourself picking up your Bible and wondering where to turn. Here is a list of books that are good ones for when you are starting out: Mark, Philippians, Colossians, Psalms, Proverbs, Ephesians, Luke. When you finish those, move on to these: Genesis, James, Matthew, Isaiah, John, Romans, Deuteronomy. When you have finished all of these, give me a call.

Thank God for something every day.
Remember that God is the Giver of all good gifts. Cultivate thankfulness in your life. Each day as you awake, remember that God is with you, and thank Him for that. Thank Him for the gift of a new day. Thank Him that He has already planned this day for you, that He is good, and that He promises to do good to you.

Every time you sit down to eat, remember to thank Him. Thank Him for the weather, the sunshine, an encouraging conversation, a surprise meeting with a friend, a good grade on a project, legs that work, a roof over your head. Whatever is before you, be thankful. If you have to take a scary test, be thankful that you have the opportunity to go to school. If you can't sleep at night, be thankful that you have a bed and blankets. Recently, I saw someone ask the question: If you woke up tomorrow and all you had were the things you had thanked God for yesterday, what would you be left with? Live thankfully!

Turn your burdens over to the Lord every day.

God's Word says, "Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7). Pray when you are sad, lonely, frightened, nervous or bewildered. Never forget that you have a perfect friend in the Lord; He will always be there for you and never let you down. He may hide His face temporarily to teach you to become stronger, but He will never leave you nor forsake you. This is one of His promises (Joshua 1:9, Hebrews 13:5).

You can read the next post in this series here.