Back to Basics: Beat back the past with grace and tell your readers “We are not victims”

It used to be that people didn’t include scandalous stuff in their memoirs. We lived in a modest, dignified culture. 

 

But then things changed. Memoirists tossed out gentility and decorum, and our society entered into what William Zinsser calls “The memoir-crazed 1990s.” 

 

It was a time, he says, when people disclosed shocking information, indulged in self-pity, and sought revenge, a time when “no remembered episode was too squalid, no family too dysfunctional, to be trotted out for the titillation of the masses.”

 

But, he points out, those types of memoirs didn’t stand the test of time. (Hooray!)

 

That era did have a few good memoirs, though.

 

“The memoirs we do remember from the 1990s,” says Zinsser, “are the ones that were written with love and forgiveness, like Mary Karr’s The Liar’s Club, Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes, Tobias Wolff’s This Boy’s Life, and Pete Hamill’s A Drinking Life.” (From “How to Write a Memoir” in The American Scholar.)

 

“Anyone might think” he says, “the domestic chaos and alcoholism and violence that enveloped those writers when they were young would have long since hardened the heart.” 

 

And yet they did not have hardened hearts. For example, “The marvel of Frank McCourt’s childhood is that he survived it. . . . The second marvel is that he was able to triumph over it in Angela’s Ashes, beating back the past with grace and humor and with the power of language.”

 

Each of those four authors “look back with compassion. . . .  These books…were written with love. They elevate the pain of the past with forgiveness, arriving at a larger truth about families in various stages of brokenness.  . . .

 

“There’s no self-pity, no whining, no hunger for revenge; the authors are as honest about their young selves as they are about the sins of their elders. (Writing About Your Life)  (If you missed it, be sure to read Don’t start writing your memoir until . . .)

 

“We are not victims, they want us to know. . . . We have endured to tell the story without judgment and to get on with our  lives. . . .”  (Zinsser, Writing About Your Life)

 

If you’re writing about pain caused by others, be cautious and honest about your motives.

 

Avoid writing:

• to get revenge, settle the score, or retaliate,
• to humiliate a person, company, or organization,
• to get readers to pity you,
• to get readers to take sides with you, or
• to indulge in self-pity.

 

Examine your heart and if you find even traces of writing for any of those reasons, stop! That’s not what memoir is about.

 

Extend to others the same forgiveness, grace, and mercy God has extended to you. (See last week’s post, How do you write about your family’s baggage?)

 

Let the following dwell in your heart and mind as you write:

 

“At our best,

memoirists hope it is silence we are breaking,

and not another person.”

(Kelly McMasters)

 

Zinsser counsels us:

 

“If you use memoir to look for your own humanity

and the humanity of the people who crossed your life,

however much pain they caused you,

readers will connect with your journey.

 

What they won’t connect with is whining.

Dispose of that anger somewhere else.”

 

That somewhere else could be in your journal—for your eyes only—or in a fictionalized version of your story.

 

Or it could be a first draft. Dr. Linda Joy Myers advises,

 

“Write your first draft as a healing draft.

Get out what you need to say.

Make it bold and real.

Then stand back and think about

how you want to revise it for publication.”

(Will My Family Get Angry About My Memoir?)

 

In that rough draft, write about the injustices, mistreatment, hurt feelings, anger, scars, and tears. Write about destroyed dreams, confusion, hopelessness.

 

Write it all. Write it as a prayer.

Write until you know God has heard you.

Write it as a way of asking Him

to help you forgive and move on.

 

Since that process usually takes time, set aside your private writing (rough draft) for a week or a month or a year. Listen for God, let Him work in your heart and mind.

 

Your goal is to move from anger to forgiveness, from pain to compassion. When you succeed in that, you can throw away that rough draft, or at least commit to keeping it private.

 

And then rewrite your memoir.

 

Rewrite deliberately to “elevate the pain of the past with forgiveness.”

 

Rewrite with integrity.

Delete the wallowing.

Write not as a wounded victim,

but as one who has triumphed,

as one who has forgiven, healed,

and moved forward in a good way.

 

Write like Frank McCourt did:

Beat back the past with grace—

and maybe even with a little humor.

 

  

Back to Basics: How do you write about your family’s baggage?

 

Your relatives and mine include a lot of fine people, but let’s be honest: Our family trees include at least a few dysfunctional people—parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles.

 

And our generation has skeletons in the closet. And maybe our kids and grandkids do, too. Every family has baggage.

 

You know—

• the one who should have protected you but didn’t
• the bully
• the controller
• the know-it-all
• the manipulator
• the narcissist
• the gossip
• the petty one who always looked for ways to take offense
• the wife-beater
• the critic
• the egotistical and self-absorbed
• the double-crosser
• the drunkard
• the liar
• the murderer
• the adulterer
• the sex addict
• the drug addict
• the thief.

 

Imperfect people have influenced you.

 

Some have played major roles in your life.

 

So . . . how should you write about them

and their baggage?

 

First, examine your motive. That is all-important!

 

Promise yourself to refrain from humiliating anyone. Refuse to get even. Avoid shaming. Remember: “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:17, 21). (See last week’s post, Don’t start writing your memoir until. . . ”) 

 

Writing a memoir can bring

much-needed healing to you, so that’s good.

 

And you can help break the cycle

of hand-me-down hang-ups

that crippled your family’s generations—

just focus on the right reason

to write about people in your past.

 

“God’s Word clearly expresses what a good and effective teacher the past can be. The past will be a good teacher if we will simply approach it as a good student, from the perspective of what we can gain and how God can use it for His glory. (Beth Moore, Breaking  Free)

 

First, seek to be at peace with God:

 

Recognize that like your family members, you have made and will make mistakes in raising your children and relating to your grandchildren. Your flaws might be different than those of your relatives, but you have your own shortcomings. And failures. And dysfunctions. (Don’t miss an earlier post: A sobering reality: Everyone’s dysfunctional.)

 

Banish bitterness.

Ask for God’s forgiveness.

Accept His forgiveness.

Allow God to wrap you in His grace and mercy.

 

Wrapped in God’s grace and mercy—that’s where you find peace with God.

 

In writing your memoir,

you don’t have to act as if sins against you

and others were okay.

They were not.

 

But I encourage you offer your family members

the same forgiveness, grace, and mercy

God has extended to you.

(You might want to meet with a therapist—

just be sure he or she is competent.

Not all are trustworthy!)

 

Read the following slowly, and then read it again. Take in its message:

 

“Thank God that although you cannot change the past,

He can help you change what you’re doing with it!

And the changes He makes in you in the present

can certainly change the future!”

(Beth Moore, Breaking Free)

 

Next week we’ll continue with insights from William Zinsser, such a dear man, about how to write about those who wounded you. Don’t miss it. His message is powerful!

 

How do you write about your family’s baggage?

 

Your ancestors and mine included a lot of fine people, but let’s be honest: Our family trees also include at least a few dysfunctional people—parents, grandparents, great-grandparents. Some carried out unhealthy practices and held offensive attitudes.

 

And now our generation has skeletons in the closet. Every family has baggage.

 

You know—the enabler.

 

Or the one who should have protected you but didn’t.

 

The bully, the controller, the know-it-all.

 

The petty one always looking for ways to take offense and blame you.

 

Your grandfather might have been a wife-beater.

 

Perhaps your father was quick to criticize and slow to praise.

 

Maybe your mother was egotistical and self-absorbed.

 

Your family tree might include a drunkard, a liar, murderer, adulterer, sex addict, drug addict, or a thief.

 

Even Jesus’ genealogical chart shows ill-famed characters: Rahab was a prostitute and King Manasseh deliberately defied God, carried out evil, and led God’s people astray.

 

Your family’s imperfect people have influenced you.

 

Some of the dysfunctional ones have played major roles in your life.

 

So, how should you, a memoirist, write about your people and their baggage?

 

First, examine your motive. That is all-important!

 

Hear this: Memoir is not about revenge.

 

Forbid yourself to use your memoir to shame people.

 

Refrain from humiliating anyone.

 

Refuse to get even.

 

Writing a memoir can bring much-needed healing

to you, the writer.

 

And writing can help break the cycle

of hand-me-down hang-ups

that crippled your family’s generations—

 

but focus on the right reason to write about your people.

 

“God’s Word clearly expresses

what a good and effective teacher the past can be.

The past will be a good teacher

if we will simply approach it as a good student,

from the perspective of what we can gain

and how God can use it for His glory.”

(Beth Moore, Breaking Free)

 

Do everything you must to be at peace with God:

• Recognize that like your parents and grandparents, you have made and will make mistakes in your marriage, in raising children, and in relating to grandchildren.
• Your malfunctions might be different from those of your parents or grandparents but, be assured, you have your own shortcomings and failures.
• Ask for God’s forgiveness.
• Accept His forgiveness.
• Allow God to wrap you in His grace and mercy.

 

Wrapped in God’s grace and mercy—that’s where you find peace with God.

 

Then pass it on: In writing your memoir,

you don’t need to act as if sins against you and others

were somehow okay.

They weren’t.

But I encourage you to extend to your ancestors

the same forgiveness, grace, and mercy God extended to you.

 

Read the following slowly, and then read it again. Take in its message:

 

“Thank God that

although you cannot change the past,

He can help you change what you’re doing with it!

And the changes He makes in you

in the present

can certainly change the future!”

(Beth Moore, Breaking Free)

 

Memoirist Jessica Cherie Errico: When there’s a gap where love should be

We read books to find ways to fill the gaps we have in our hearts and minds and souls.

 

We look for stories by those  

who have journeyed down life’s road ahead of us.

Why?

Because we can catch a glimpse of ourselves

in other people’s stories,

and by their example and their words,

they offer us answers, guidance, and inspiration.

 

With that in mind, I’m pleased to recommend Jessica Cherie Errico’s memoir, The Mother Gap: A Daughter’s Search for Connection, the story of her longing for a close relationship with her alcoholic mother.

 

“When a daughter feels disconnected from her mother, her heart hurts. There is an empty spot, a gap, where love should be. Her heart cries out, ‘Mom, I need you! . . . Aren’t I good enough?’”

 

Perhaps you know Jessica’s pain, you know what it’s like to feel a disconnect with your mother—or father. Or maybe you know others who suffer such pain. Reverend Roland Coffee writes that The Mother Gap “. . . should help anyone struggling with  memories of the lack of parental love.”

 

Jessica says, “Because of God’s forgiveness in my life, I have learned to extend forgiveness to those who’ve hurt me.”

 

She saw how bitterness consumed her mother and says, “I realized I didn’t want that for my life. . . . I had been accumulating her pain in my heart and . . . I needed to be free of that, so God showed me how to be willing to forgive her.

 

“I wanted to share that with others because many women have conflicts with their moms or other close relatives. We’re all in the process of learning how to forgive and let go.”

 

One reviewer of Jessica’s memoir said that her “moving transparent story . . . awakened buried pain” of her childhood relationship with her own parents and helped her to see them in a new light. “My heightened forgiveness of both of them has freed me to shine my light for Jesus much brighter now. This was an excellent healing balm for me.”

Another reviewer wrote: “Jessica’s story about her troubled relationship with her mother is written openly and honestly. It can help anyone suffering with . . . a handicapped relationship. . . . Jessica does not skip over the difficulties or the pain, but openly confesses that it is by the power of God that such a turn-about and personal growth can be experienced.”

 

Another reviewer wrote: “Thank you, Jessica, for opening my eyes to my own mom’s experience. In reading this beautiful testimony of love and forgiveness, I was helped to resolve the residual pain in my own heart!”

As Joe Rigney writes, "Stories are powerful. Stories are soul food. . . . and they can help us in soul care.

 

“Stories can help us gain perspective, to step outside of our own lives in order to reflect on reality. Stories can point us to The Story, so that we can find ourselves in God’s narrative when we’re lost and adrift.

 

“Stories can direct us to the truth, helping us to remember and to connect with God and with each other.

 

“And stories can direct us to action, to remind us of God’s call upon us, so that we might walk in the light as he is in the light” (Joe Rigney, “Weep, But Also Rejoice”).

 

I encourage you to read and share The Mother Gap: A Daughter’s Search for Connection. Within its pages you’ll find rich blessings for yourself and your family members—because all of us have gaps, those empty spots where love should be.

 

 

Jessica’s words and heart

have blessed us already so much today,

but here’s more!

Here are a couple of bonuses for you:

 

Click on Forgiveness Heals Relationships to watch her interview with Lisa Buldo.

Click on Forgiveness and Connection: The Search, to watch Jessica’s interview with Dr. Sheila Sapp. 

Come back next week for Jessica’s special message

for those writing their own memoirs.

 

Jessica Errico is an artist and author. She’s published four books, several articles, and writes a bi-monthly column for the Religion Section of her local newspaper. Visit her website, Jessica  Cherie Errico: Author/Artist,  as well as her blog of the same name.

 

About getting life right, about messing it up

Your stories can help others deal with success and with failure.

That means it’s important to write about getting life right and messing it up, about succeeding and falling short.

You can’t go back and undo bad decisions and failures but, if you’re wise, you’ve learned from them and made positive changes.

And, here’s a bonus: If you share your stories, maybe kids, grandkids, great-grands, and other readers won’t make the same mistakes you did.

Someone on Facebook asked, “What do you regret?” The question got some lighthearted and groan-worthy replies:

• cooking with margarine
• using artificial sweeteners
• that perm I got in the ‘70s
• that orange bodysuit
• EVERYTHING about high school
• Reading Jonathan Livingston Seagull and thinking it was profound

NOTE: When you write about the hard stuff, the ugly stuff, it’s good—valuable—recommended—to include upbeat stuff, too—maybe even a little humor. Make ‘em laugh (click on that link). Humor connects people. It endears you to your readers and makes them keep reading.

That’s important.

But if humor isn’t appropriate, give readers something a little positive—something that will give them a smile or that will tug at their hearts, maybe something charming. Give them occasional relief from the painful stuff.

So include something positive in your vignettes. (Don’t miss Like a sneak attack; it’s one of the most powerful techniques a memoirist can use.)

What do you regret?

Maybe you lament:

• getting into a bad habit or addiction,
• losing contact with a friend or relative,
• not saying “I love you” often enough,
• spending too much time with your career/cell phone/computer and not enough time with your children and spouse,
• family feuds,
• telling a lie,
• cheating.

One of my biggest regrets is walking around a dying refugee on a sidewalk in Nairobi, Kenya. I pretended to ignore her. How could I have been so cold-hearted? I still reel over the long list of other ways I have failed.

Ah, such things hurt, don’t they? Sometimes regrets can endure for years. But I have good news.

One of the beauties of writing memoir is the pondering, examining, and reflecting it requires. The process can prompt us to ask God and others for forgiveness and then turn our lives in a different direction.

And here’s what’s just staggering:

“That God still chooses to use us 

flawed human beings

is both astonishing and encouraging.”

Richard Stearns, World Vision

Yes, God can and does use us, flawed as we are: By telling our stories, those who come after us can learn from our mistakes and gain wisdom for living life well—but that means you must tell your stories.

So, what do you regret?

What was God doing in the event, as you see it now, in retrospect?

What deeper lessons did God have for you in the experience?

What did you learn about yourself?

What did you learn about God?

How did the experience change your life? What new person did you become?

What stories can you write about doing things differently in the future? About getting a second chance? About making a new start?

Write your stories!

Avoid writing for revenge

We suffer pain for various reasons—sometimes we bring it on ourselves, sometimes it’s no one’s fault, but other times it’s the fault of another person.

If we’re writing a memoir that includes pain caused by a person or organization, we need to be cautious about our motives. And honest about our motives.

As a memoirist, avoid writing for these reasons:

• to get revenge, settle the score, retaliate,
• to humiliate a person or organization,
• to get readers to pity you,
• to get readers to take sides with you, or
• to indulge in self-pity.

Examine your heart and if you find even traces of wanting to write for any of those reasons, stop!  That’s not what memoir is about.

I have two pieces of advice: (1) Go ahead and write everything, but write for your eyes only.  Write about the injustices, write about your mistreatment, hurt feelings, anger, scars, and tears. Write about destroyed dreams, confusion, hopelessness.

Write it all. Write it as a prayer. Write until you know God has heard you. Write it as a way of asking God to help you forgive and move on.

Because such resolution usually takes time, set aside your private writing for a week or a month or a year. Listen for God, let Him work in your heart and mind.

Your goal is to move from anger to forgiveness, from pain to compassion.

Read William Zinsser’s important words:

“The marvel of Frank McCourt’s childhood is that he survived it…. The second marvel is that he was able to triumph over it in [his memoir] Angela’s Ashes, beating back the past with grace and humor and with the power of language. Those same qualities are at the heart of all the good memoirs of the 1990s….”

Zinsser mentions three such memoirs, A Drinking Life, by Pete Hamill, The Liar’s Club by Mary Karr, and This Boy’s Life by Tobias Wolff.

He continues, “Anyone might think the domestic chaos and alcoholism and violence that enveloped those writers when they were young would have long since hardened the heart…. Yet they look back with compassion…. These books…were written with love. They elevate the pain of the past with forgiveness, arriving at a larger truth about families in various stages of brokenness. There’s no self-pity, no whining, no hunger for revenge; the authors are as honest about their young selves as they are about the sins of their elders. We are not victims, they want us to know…. We have endured to tell the story without judgment and to get on with our lives….”

Zinsser offers advice to today’s memoirists: “If you use memoir to look for your own humanity and the humanity of the people who crossed your life, however much pain they caused you, readers will connect with your journey. What they won’t connect with is whining. Dispose of that anger somewhere else. Get your intention clear before you start and tell your story with integrity.” (Writing About Your Life; emphasis mine)

When you can write that way—

when you can write with compassion 

and love and forgiveness, 

when you can write without self-pity or whining 

or revenge or being judgmental, 

 rewrite your rough draft. 

Strive to write like Frank McCourt: 

Write words full of grace, and maybe even a bit of humor.

This brings us to my other piece of advice: (2) Don’t let anyone read your manuscript until you have rewritten it.

Remember:

Your first draft was for you alone,

but later drafts are for your readers.

“Ursula K. Le Guin,

when dealing with painful subjects,

makes a distinction between ‘wallowing,’

which she says she writes but does not share publicly

and ‘bearing witness,’

which she does share.” 

(Judith Barrington, Writing the Memoir; emphasis mine)

So rewrite. Rewrite with integrity. Delete the wallowing. Instead, bear witness. Write not as a wounded victim, but as one who has triumphed, as one who has forgiven, healed, and moved forward in a good way.

Related posts:

“To live the pain with hope”

Writing yourself to the other side of pain 

What is the point of writing about the hardships of life?

Writing yourself to the other side of pain, continued

Your memoir: Like the sound of a bell

Two Horses

(author unknown)

Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it. From a distance, each looks like every other horse. But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing. Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him. This alone is amazing.

If nearby and listening, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field. Attached to her halter is a small bell. It lets her blind friend know where she is, so he can follow her.

As you stand and watch these two friends, you’ll see how she is always checking on him, and that he will listen for her bell and then slowly walk to where she is, trusting that she will not lead him astray. When she returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, she stops occasionally and looks back, making sure her friend isn’t too far behind to hear the bell.

Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others see….

Your memoir can serve as a “bell” for others.

We think of the sound of bells as pleasant, lovely. Bells chime in times of celebration.

Write stories to remind readers of all that’s good, to remind them they have reasons to celebrate. Write to cheer others and warm their hearts and inspire them to walk with a spring in their step. Write to brighten a person’s day.

Write to give someone a smile, or even a belly-laugh. God blesses and teaches through hilarious incidents and humorous encounters and comical blunders—and who knows? Maybe someone, through your story, can learn to laugh again.

Sometimes God hands us pure joy—surrounded by a crowd of loved ones, or maybe in the presence of just one kind person or kindred spirit. Demonstrate that through your stories.

Bells can also sound warning, get our attention, demand action.

The author of the above piece wrote: “God…brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.” That could be your role, helping others in need of guidance:

Your stories can sound warning by letting people witness the ways you messed up—your rebellion, foolishness, fears, immaturity, poor judgment—and inspire them to avoid the mistakes you made and the heartaches you suffered.

Like Jon Acuff said, “Sometimes God redeems your story by surrounding you with people who need to hear your past, so it doesn’t become their future.”

Someone needs to hear your “I once was blind but now I see” story, your “Amazing Grace” story: Someone needs to know how God forgave your sins and cleaned you up and helped you stand tall and gave you a second chance.

So sound those bells! 

Write your stories!

“To remember only the pain, or only the joy, would be incomplete”

This month’s blog posts on Thursdays resulted from welcome comments Samantha White left after my blog post, Don’t Forget Your Memories!

If you’ve been hanging around SM 101 for a while, you know we emphasize the importance of remembering, based on several Bible verses, and Samantha’s probing ponderings brought real-life clarity to the topic.

With grace and wisdom, Samantha wrote, “Remembering can be a great gift and also a great curse. Memories can haunt us and pull us away from the present.…”

And so, her insight brings us to the end of this month’s examination of forgiveness and whether forgiving also means forgetting.

(If you missed earlier posts, here are links: Does forgiveness leave room for forgetting AND remembering?  We’ve all been there.  Is God’s grace is out of reach?) If we’re ready for “…a radical reconstruction of the heart,” (Max Lucado), God is ready and eager to forgive. God’s forgiveness is complete. Perfect. We also need to forgive ourselves.)  

So the question today is:

After God forgives us, after God takes our sins from us—as far as the east is from the west!—should we forget our wrongdoings? Or should we remember them?

Here’s what I think:

If remembering keeps us stuck in pain and regret,

if remembering prevents us from moving on,

if remembering keeps us mired in self-loathing,

if remembering our forgiven sins defines us and declares us ruined for the rest of our lives,

then remembering is not God’s best for us.

On the other hand,

if remembering focuses us on God’s unfailing love and all-sufficient grace,

if remembering makes us fall on our knees before Him in awe and thanksgiving,

if remembering speaks of  “a joyful release from the things that have bound us far too long” (Chuck Swindoll, Grace Awakening),

if remembering helps us hope,

if remembering blows us away,

if remembering shows how far God has brought us,

if remembering leads us to delight in God and love Him more,

then let’s remember!

God invites us to a sacred remembering,

a sacred remembering that releases us from wallowing in old history,

a sacred remembering that invites us to be our true selves: “Your True Self is who you are in God and who God is in you” (Richard Rohr, Immortal Diamond: The Search for our True Self),

a sacred remembering that enables us to live in the present, and for the future,

a sacred remembering that leads us to say, like David,

“Let all that I am praise the Lord; may I never forget the good things he does for me. He forgives all my sins” (Psalm 103:1-2, NLT).

and, “You have changed my sadness into a joyful dance; you have taken away all my sorrow and surrounded me with joy. So I will not be silent; I will sing praise to you. Lord, you are my God; I will give you thanks forever” (Psalm 30:11-12, GNT).

 “Never be afraid when God brings back the past.

Let memory have its way.

God will turn the ‘might have been’

into a wonderful beginning for the future.”

(Oswald Chambers)

Forget the things that happened in the past.

Do not keep thinking about them.

I am about to do something new.

Don’t you see it coming?

I am going to make a way for you

to go through the desert.

I will make streams of water

in the dry and empty land.

  (Isaiah 43:18,19, NIRV)

God invites us to a sacred remembering in which we view our forgiven sins not as through rose-colored glasses, but as through grace-fogged glasses, when we view forgiven sins as distant clouds, as morning mists.

Samantha wrote these rich, insightful words that will bless your life and help you write your memoir:

“Memories can … make us deeply grateful for all the good we’ve received. One of the gifts for me in writing my memoir is that it helped me put my most painful memories to rest. By publishing them, I have given them wings on which to fly and stay alive, without my having to personally relive them daily.… The Bible is about times of pestilence and suffering AND triumph and survival. I suppose we need to remember it all … that life was difficult, and that we overcame and grew.… To remember only the pain, or only the joy, would be incomplete. We need to remember it all, as a package, because life is all of it. Pain and loss, healing and joy. We LEARN by remembering!!! I think the message of the Bible, ‘Remember,’ also means ‘Don’t let the suffering, nor what was gained and learned from it, be wasted. Learn. Remember what we’ve learned.’”

Many thanks, Samantha! 

You have blessed us all!