A Handy Home Improvement Guide for Real People

Step 1: Decide that you would like to have a shelf in your kitchen, and go buy a shelf. (Pro tip: order it online and have it delivered to your doorstep for maximum convenience and optimal laziness!)

**Please note how "EASY-TO-HANG" this particular Photo Legde is:

Step 2: Follow instructions. Take measurements, do math, use a level, mark up your wall with a pencil, and eventually conclude that "This looks about right!"

Step 3: Drill holes for wall anchors. (Optional: feel like a badass for using a power tool. 😎)

Step 4: Try to insert wall anchors into the holes you drilled. Discover the holes aren't big enough. Swap out for a bigger drill bit and make the holes bigger.

Step 5: Re-attempt to insert wall anchors. (The holes still aren't big enough?!) Grind around to make the holes a little bigger.

Step 6: Gently tap wall anchors in. ... Realize the holes still aren't big enough. Swear.

Step 7: Repeat steps 5 and 6 many times.

Step 8: Wonder if perhaps you're "gently tapping" too gently, and start hammering wall anchors more aggressively.

Step 9: Bend and contort wall anchors to an extent that you're not sure if they're still usable. Remove them from the wall and pitch them across the room.

Step 10: Fish through your cache of random supplies for different wall anchors.

Step 11: Insert new wall anchors into the holes and easily screw them in with a Phillips-head screwdriver. (Success!)

Step 12: Manage to not quite get one wall anchor flush with the wall. (... Close enough!) Insert screws into wall anchors.

Step 13: Hang shelf on wall... and discover that the shelf isn't level because your screws need to be further into the wall, but you've pretty much stripped out the screws already to get them this far. Swear again.

Step 14: Dig felt furniture pads out of your drawer and stick them on the back of the shelf to make it flush with the wall. (Optional: congratulate yourself on your ingenuity!)

Step 15: Re-hang shelf on wall... and discover that the felt pads have overcorrected the problem and now the shelf is tilted too far up instead of too far down. Swear some more.

Step 16: Carefully peel felt pads off the back of the shelf and stick on leftover lower-profile cabinet bumpers you found in your drawer instead.

Step 17: PRAY.

Step 18: Hang shelf on wall... and determine that although it's not perfect, the shelf looks the best you've seen it look yet. Remind yourself that you're (fairly) confident it's not going anywhere and that there's nothing more to be done to improve it at this point.

Step 19: Decorate your shelf accordingly.

Step 20: Text your friends and family and write a blog post about it. Feel accomplished, but also a little bit bitter. (Vow to never hang anything on a wall ever again, but know that you'll be doomed to repeat the process sooner or later.) Rest and bask in the greatness of your new shelf!

Time to complete: 1.5 hours or more (results may vary)

Adventures in Quarantine: #coronafails

Today is my last opportunity to write a blog post for the month of April. (Hard to believe it's been that long since the last time I wrote!) There has been a lot of news and lessons in the last month - and although I haven't written on my blog in awhile, I have still been writing through other means here and there. I'm going to keep it light today, and talk about some of my corona failures. If God has been teaching me one thing these last few months, it's that it is ok to fail!

A lot of people have been taking on new hobbies during this quar-ant-ine. (You'll see what I did there, in a minute.) I decided to throw it way back to childhood and start an ant farm! ... Involuntarily. In my kitchen wall. 😒

On the bright side, my kitchen is SO CLEAN right now!

I've also been working on my baking skills! ... Out of a box. (It was still more work than you'd expect - the only effort it saved me was measuring dry ingredients.) I'm not winning The Great British Baking Show anytime soon, but these scones maybe weren't a total failure. I think I nailed it... don't you agree? 😏

 

(Hey, they tasted all right! A win is a win!)

And last but not least, I tried my hand at fixing electronics - the obvious next hobby to try in isolation. (I've done some minor internal maintenance on gaming systems in the past! It wasn't completely outside my realm of possibilities.) Some buttons on my TV got busted in, so I figured it was an easy fix to take the TV apart, find the buttons, and put them where they belonged.

Turns out, tube TVs are a little harder to navigate than a NES. I busted the casing. ... And then not only was unable to fix the original busted buttons, but pushed in another one to boot! Oops.

That was a bummer. But tube TVs aren't too hard to come by these days (I guess no one wants them anymore? 🤷), so I picked one up for the low, low price of free! No VHS/DVD player included, but I can still go hunting whenever I want... so I did.

This is your reminder that life is full of peaks and valleys! You won't appreciate the peaks, if you don't have to go through any valleys first. Success isn't everything. Celebrate your failures too, and see what you can learn from them.

Glad I can keep it real with you! Until next time...

Death, where is your sting?

I couldn't tell you the last conversation my dad and I had before he passed. I'd like to tell you that it was some inspirational speech, or that we sat down and reconciled everything that had ever gone wrong in our relationship, or that he said all the things he knew he was going to miss getting to say to me in my future. Life doesn't always work out the way we'd like. One day he was fine, and the next morning, I woke up to my mom asking me to watch the dogs because the ambulance was coming and Dad was probably dying.

My dad had ALS. Even when you know death is coming, it isn't any easier to accept. I remember sitting on the floor, praying that it wasn't his time yet. There were conversations we hadn't had. He hadn't walked me down the aisle yet. My kids hadn't met him, he hadn't helped me with my house, we hadn't gotten to travel to an ISU bowl game together... I'm not ready, I thought.

It was touch and go, but he rallied for a little while. We were hopeful... but it soon became evident that he wouldn't be coming home. We moved him from the hospital to hospice. By that point, communicating was difficult - it was hard for him to breathe well enough to speak, most of the time. He had a couple of really good days, in hospice. So many friends and family came to visit him. He knew a lot of people, and was loved by many. He really lit up, getting to see so many of these people he'd built relationships with throughout his life.

I couldn't take that joy away from him. My friends brought puzzles - we worked on them together outside his room as he socialized. At the end of that second good day, he was worn out. We'd talk the next day, I thought. Besides, what do you say to someone who's dying? How do you even start that conversation?

If I had to guess, our last talk was probably pretty simple that evening. "Jess!" he would've gasped excitedly. I would've said something about how nice it was, that so many people came to see him. He would've talked lovingly about his friends, some of whom he hadn't seen in years. I would've told him I'd see him tomorrow. We would've exchanged 'I love you's. And I would've left, wondering when we were going to have our real conversation - the one I was certain we would have before his time here was done. Tomorrow. I was sure of it.

That tomorrow never came. He was never really conscious again, after that day. The few moments he was, he couldn't speak - because he couldn't talk with his breathing machine on, but couldn't breathe enough to form words without it. The hospice nurses made him comfortable. He wasn't in pain, but he seemed to be straddling both worlds: his body tethering him to this one, but his spirit longing for the next.

I remember being kind of mad. Mad at him, for not giving me that conversation. Mad at myself, for not initiating it. But looking at him, I knew I couldn't keep him here for a chance at a conversation that would never happen. I gave him permission to go... but his body was holding him hostage here. His breathing machine, to be more specific.

Sometimes, letting go is the most merciful thing you can do for someone. I don't know if he was cognizant, when I said my last goodbye to him and finally said some of the things I had imagined that we'd talk about together. By then, his eyes were unseeing - just fixated ahead. He couldn't squeeze my hand. He was breathing, but there was no longer signs of life in him. The hospice nurses will tell you that your loved one is aware in times like this, but I can't be sure. I trust that he heard, and he knew.

He was given a lot of painkillers, and we took him off the breathing machine. Our pastor sang Amazing Grace. And my dad was released, and he slipped out of this world.

I'm not here to tell you any of it was easy. Not in the slightest. And it's still not easy. But through all of it... I wasn't afraid. I didn't have to fear for my dad's spirit. I knew he was a Christian. Death was not the end for him. In fact, in a lot of ways, death was a relief for my dad, and for us. He didn't have to suffer anymore. He wasn't stuck in a failing body. He was free. I miss him, but I know I'll see him again someday. When we're reunited, there will be endless opportunities for conversations, and there won't be disappointment or sorrow. Our relationship will be redeemed like it never was here on earth.

So, as I sit here, the coronavirus filling up my news feed, panic spreading like wildfire... I am here to remind you that this is not the end. As children of God, fear has no power over us. Not fear of disease, not fear of sickness, not fear of death.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation - so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?" Psalm 27:1

Fear is of the devil.

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline." 2 Timothy 1:7 

Don't be reckless. Take precautions as needed. God doesn't tell us to be foolish. But this is a reminder that one of the best parts about being a Christian is not having to fear death. We are free in Christ Jesus. We are temporary residents here. Our days are numbered, and being afraid of some virus or the end won't add a single day to our lives. Use the time you've been given, and go out and live. Have conversations with people. Jesus has already overcome this world. It is finished.

"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name; you are mine." Isaiah 43:1

Won't you be my neighbor?

It's hard for me to remember where an idea comes from sometimes. Was I reading an article? Did I see something on Facebook? Was one of the worship songs one Sunday "Break Every Chain" ("There is power in the name of Jesus...")? Was I closing a prayer "in Jesus' name," out of habit? I really can't recall the origination. However, at some point in the last few weeks, I got stuck on the idea of the power and importance of names, and it's been following me around since.

This isn't a new concept, by any means. God tasks Adam with giving a name to all the animals and birds, and Adam named each and every one of them (in Genesis). God changes the names of some of his followers - Abram to Abraham, Sarai to Sarah, Jacob to Israel, Simon to Peter. God names Himself:

But Moses protested, "If I go to the people of Israel and tell them, 'The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,' they will ask me, 'What is his name?' Then what should I tell them?" God replied to Moses, "I AM WHO I AM. Say this to the people of Israel: I AM has sent me to you." God also said to Moses, "Say this to the people of Israel: Yahweh, the God of your ancestors - the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob - has sent me to you. This is my eternal name, my name to remember for all generations." (Exodus 3:13-15)

And of course, the name of Jesus has significance as well:

"She will have a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins." All of this occurred to fulfill the Lord's message through his prophet: "Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel, which means 'God is with us.'" (Matthew 1:21-23)

In that time, names had meaning that directly reflected a person's character. For example, Abram means "exalted father," and Abraham means "father of many." Abraham's name change coincides with God's promise (covenant) with Abraham to make him the father of many nations. The other name changes follow a similar progression.

Names these days don't necessarily carry the same kind of weight as they did back then, but they aren't any less important. I couldn't tell you what my name means without Googling it, but I can tell you that I am known by different variations of my name to different people. Jessica is the name I give to people at work and to strangers. My friends and family know me as Jessie. Sometimes, it's affectionately shortened to Jess.

Even works of fiction recognize the significance of names! I love the Harry Potter series as much as the next person. Most people, even those less familiar with the series, know that Voldemort, the main antagonist, is also known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, because most characters in the franchise are so terrified of this villain that they won't even utter his name aloud.

More recently, I saw "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood." If you haven't heard of it, it's a movie based on the true story of a journalist profiling Fred Rogers (played by Tom Hanks) of the classic TV show Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. The movie is a little lighter on Christianity content than I think is probably accurate, from the little I've read about Mister Rogers, but it is really good. The article that the movie is based on is really good too - you can check it out here.

In the movie, there are a number of powerful moments, but one that hit me was a scene of Fred Rogers kneeling by his bed and praying for people. It was depicted simply: he just said their names out loud. But he didn't try to abbreviate or shorten his prayer by, for example, saying "the Smith family." No, he prayed for each person by name, first and last. It was a beautiful moment, hearing this man pray for people - some of whom he had never even met - specifically by name.

So, where does all of this leave us? I think names are really powerful. Our identity is based in our name. The name of God and Jesus Christ is important (and why they are not to be said in vain), and there is power in the name of Jesus because there is power in Him. God knows us and calls us by name (in Isaiah). If we are believers, our names will be found written in the book of life (in Revelation). Therefore, I believe there is huge significance in knowing and calling and praying for people by name. Saying someone's name shows that we see, appreciate, and care about them. It might be one of the most neighborly things we can do. And after all...

'Love your neighbor as yourself.' (Mark 12:31)

No capes!

"The things you say about yourself... aren't necessarily true."

I was eating dinner with a friend a couple of days ago, and haven't been able to let this wisdom go. Her statement stopped me in my tracks. Would I lie to myself? Don't I know myself better than anyone? I should be the most qualified to accurately assess myself... right?

The truth is... no! I may, in fact, have some of the least accurate opinions about myself of anyone I know! How odd is it, that the one person I spend the most time with - myself - is someone I could so easily incorrectly portray?

It's no secret that I consider myself an insecure person. Feel free to look up some old blog posts on here, or some "Food for Thought" on The Table Facebook page (linked in the sidebar to the right). It's doubtless come up a few times (I'm too afraid to look at my old writing!). As Edna says:

I've come to realize a number of things, as I work on feeling less insecure. I sometimes pine after affirmation from others. I sometimes struggle to believe that God loves me, warts and all. And despite being aware of these things... I still go through recurring desperate bouts of feeling wholeheartedly unworthy.

I honestly don't have a guaranteed solution yet for how to pull out of an unworthiness tailspin. (I'll probably let you know, if I figure it out!) But after my friend's insight, and some research into what God has to say on the topic, here's what I do know:

1. Feelings are not truth (although that doesn't make feelings any less real).
2. Your own thoughts or preconceived notions you have about yourself may not be true.
3. Insecurity is fear (and probably also a sin!).
4. People have been insecure since they existed, both doubting God ("Did God really say..." in Genesis 3:1) and feeling ashamed after the fall ("So they hid from the Lord..." in Genesis 3:8).
5. Our identity is secure in Christ ("So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus." Romans 8:1).
6. So when I am feeling insecure about myself, it is because I am rooting my identity in others, in relation to others, in my own personal attributes, or through my past sins and failures.
7. Therefore, when I feel insecure I am basically questioning whether what God says about me is really true. By questioning my worthiness, I am questioning Christ's worthiness.
8. It could also mean: I am preoccupied with myself (pride), I am dissatisfied with God (grumbling for better manna), I long for validation from others more than God (seeking worldly affirmation), and/or I still feel my righteousness is justified in some way by my accomplishments (confidence from works).
9. Which is a warning to check my heart - but also an invitation to break free from false beliefs about myself and seek Him and what He has to say. (And He has a great deal to say! Please check out this article in particular [https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/what-god-thinks-about-you]; I really can't string it together better than they already have!)
10. Paul says it best: "I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ and become one with him. ... I become righteous through faith in Christ. For God's way of making us right with himself depends on faith." Philippians 3:7-9

All of this sounds great on paper, but I will be the first to admit that it is not nearly as easy to remember in moments of imposter syndrome and feeling deeply undeserving. There is no quick fix on this one. It's going to take time and effort, some serious heart guarding and thought/feeling mindfulness, and some bold faith.

But the good news is, my God is a BIG God. He can handle it. At the end of the day... who am I going to believe? The serpent, myself, or the Lord?

~

Behind every writer is (usually) more writers. This blog post was shaped and inspired by all of these articles:

https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/lay-aside-the-weight-of-insecurity

https://www.proverbs31.org/read/devotions/full-post/2017/04/25/you-are-who-god-says-you-are

https://www1.cbn.com/freedom-from-fear-and-self-doubt

https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/the-sin-of-insecurity/

What happens in Vegas...

...gets talked about in this blog. (There's no reason for it to stay in Vegas.) Long story short, I took a week off to visit Las Vegas. I'd never been. It's always a city you hear so much about, so it seemed like a place I ought to check out at least once.

If I'm being honest, I'm not sure I'll be back to visit again anytime soon. The city left me feeling some combination of fascinated, horrified, and heartbroken. Let me explain.

I'll set the mood right at the beginning: getting off the plane. My first step into the airport was my first step into this alternate dimension. There were slot machines... in the airport. If you've never been in a casino, these things can be loud and obnoxious. No doubt the bleeps and bloops are intentional, to draw you into playing. I play video games, so I'm not unaccustomed to these kinds of sounds, but the noises slot machines make feel a lot more... threatening. Like a siren call, trying to lure you in to your own demise.

I didn't think too much of it at the time. Airports are naturally busy and noisy anyway, and it is Vegas, so no matter. But then we got to the hotel. Slot machines and tables were covering the entire main floor, and this place was HUGE. Not only that, you had to walk through the main floor to get anywhere - the parking garage, your hotel room, dining options, you name it. As someone who studied marketing, I can appreciate the genius of the layout... but I kid you not, there was never a time I walked through the main floor when someone was NOT playing the slots or gambling at a table.

This picture doesn't do the main floor of the hotel justice... the slot machines go on forever.

It was shocking, just observing some of these people in passing. I imagined most of them were addicted to the pulling of the lever, the pushing of the button, the ping of a 'win' or a 'better luck next time.' That mentality of "just one more try; this time, I'll hit the jackpot!" A cigarette in hand, a scantily clad woman bringing them drinks in another, a glazed over expression on their face. Each success positive reinforcement to keep going for more, each loss giving them incentive to try again for the next time they'd "win." An endless, numbing cycle.

But I wish that was the worst part.

The strip is beautiful - I won't deny that. But there is sex being sold on every other billboard, every other taxi or bus or neon sign, every other street corner. You couldn't drive anywhere without being inundated by ads for "adult-themed" shows, all claiming to be more "hands-on" than the next. There were ads for "girls direct to you!" It was the worst at night. There were gentleman on the sidewalks touting their wares like carnival barkers. "Strip club tonight! Come to the club! Strip cluuuub!" They handed out what I can only describe as baseball cards to advertise. I successfully ignored the attempts to thrust cards into my hand, but the pavement was littered with them: basically, nude women.

One of many such ads. This one was on a truck that I assume just drives around the strip all day.

Sometimes, the women themselves would be out walking around in flamboyant, sparkly, barely there garments... or sometimes, even less. Sometimes, just pasties.

There were casinos in every hotel, sex on every corner, booze and ciggies on every block, food in between, and lights and adverts everywhere. More is more, they would insist. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. YOLO.

I've been studying the first five books of the Bible, and I've never felt so strongly that this city is (I hope) the closest I'll ever get to visiting a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. (I suppose it is nicknamed "Sin City" for a reason.) Even the buildings themselves, while breathtaking, reeked of idolatry, each one trying to be more spectacular than the next. "They traded the truth about God for a lie. So they worshiped and served the things God created instead of the Creator himself, who is worthy of eternal praise." Romans 1:25

A little nod to my Bible study group, The Table: we're in the book of Exodus right now. 😉

Even more interesting than all of that, though, was how I felt. At first, I was appalled by all of it. The gambling, the sex... the push for pleasure, whatever your vice is. Some things always remained appalling. But after a few days, I began to get used to the noisy slot machines, the bright advertisements, the people vying for my attention. We are so easily conditioned to exposure. "Your eye is like a lamp that provides light for your body. When your eye is healthy, your whole body is filled with light. But when your eye is unhealthy, your whole body is filled with darkness. And if the light you think you have is actually darkness, how deep that darkness is!" Matthew 6:22-23

I'm not here to tell you my whole trip to Vegas was bad. It wasn't. I hope to share another, more positive post soon. I'm also not here to tell you not to go to Vegas. I'm just here to say that as pretty and glamorous as it is, there is a darkness there that can't be lit up by any man-made lights. It was heartbreaking, thinking about some of these people as children of God, created in His image. The more we objectify people for their usefulness, the less human they become. It's really not supposed to be this way. 😟

Insecurity Breach

I've always longed to be understood.

I was never the popular kid in school. I wasn't the girl who had a lifelong best friend since kindergarten. I wasn't even someone who had a mortal enemy. I was just... that social chameleon who can get along with whoever. The studious girl. The one who seems nice, but who usually isn't worth the time investment. She's too quiet. She's too smart. She's too agreeable. She keeps to herself too much. I don't get her.

In high school, I thought I finally hit the jackpot. I made friends with a new girl. Neither of us really had any close friends, so it seemed perfect. We never got to hang out as much as I always imagined one would, with a best friend. I fantasized about having deep, meaningful, philosophical discussions - the kind where you bare your soul: your doubts, your fears, your insecurities, your hopes, your dreams, your life. The kind of conversations where you can talk about anything without judgment, without condemnation, without that nagging sense of worry, because you trust you will be loved and accepted for who you are. You know someone appreciates you for being unapologetically, uniquely you. No strings attached.

I've thought I found that a few times. But I got hurt. I withdrew. I came to the conclusion that it's generally not worth the risk, to be vulnerable. The prospect for pain and disappointment is too great. And so it has been.

That desire for connection is still there. Once in awhile, it rears its head, and it demands to have a seat at the table. It insists on being heard. Most of the time, I can wait it out. I can beat it back down into submission. I can pacify it by throwing myself hard into work, or a video game, or focusing on other people. Occasionally, a little glistening, sparkle of sincerity and candor leaks out in a passing sentence. (Blink and you might miss it.) Sometimes I'll wait. I'll wonder if, this time, someone might pull hard enough on the yarn to unravel the knot around my heart. That yearning is always there, lurking in the depths of my soul, wanting to be seen. Desperate to be understood.

The blog could end here, unceremoniously... hopelessly. Let's turn this around with a couple of takeaways.

If you know me, and you're intrigued and would like to get to know me better... ask. And ask again. Keep asking. Honestly, I love probing questions. I love to think, and sometimes it's fun to get caught off-guard. I want to get to the heart of the matter. As much as I long for you to know me, I also long to know you with a complex, deep, unadulterated intensity that surpasses all surface level conversation and niceties. Let's be real.

Truthfully, it's not going to come easy. It's something I need to work on. You're going to have to really want to get to know me, because I don't crack naturally, and there is a certain amount of patience required. But if we are both willing to put in the time, I believe we can achieve some kind of mutual, transcendental understanding. I would like to get there.

The second takeaway, of course, is that regardless of who you know - you can have this level of deep understanding with Jesus. Even though I crave to have this with other people as well, I already have this kind of relationship with Him. It is a relief to know that however I am feeling - whether it's misunderstood, or hurt, or hollow, or even playful - He already knows, so I can be 100% genuine when I pray to the Lord, because there is nothing I can hide. I hope you have this kind of relationship with Him, too. It's freeing.

So, let's get dinner or coffee or ice cream sometime. Let's just be in each other's presence, without the distraction of technology. Let's meet each other halfway, and be patient. Let's talk. We don't have to try to build Rome in a day... but let's start somewhere and see how far we get.

I am a writer.

I am a writer.

I studied journalism in high school, and some in college. I've mimicked poetry and newspaper headlines. I've written a few stories, both non-fiction and fiction (one story remains unfinished, sadly). I've penned many letters to family and friends. I've typed more heartfelt emails than I can count, and so many lengthy text messages you'd roll your eyes. In January this year, I started writing blog-style posts for the Facebook page of my Bible study group (shameless plug: https://www.facebook.com/TheTableDSM/). So yes, I am a writer. I guess somewhere, deep down, I've always known it... but after 28 years, I am finally admitting it publicly.

I'm not sure yet what I hope to accomplish by starting a blog. Right now, I feel like I'm having an existential crisis. Writing, like so many things, drifted away from me for a time. Life has a way of distracting you and tripping you up. So maybe this is me trying to catch up with a long-lost friend. Maybe it's me throwing honest thoughts into the deep reaches of space and time, with no expectation of anything in return. Maybe it starts some conversations! And maybe it evolves over time to something else entirely.

What I do know, is this: I trust God. This may lead somewhere; it may not. Only He knows. If it doesn't result in an outward change, it may result in an inward one. And that, alone, is worth something.

Regarding the name of the blog - God calls us to speak truth. I can find it in Psalm 15: "Lead blameless lives, do what is right, speak the truth from sincere hearts... such people will stand firm forever." It's also in Ephesians 4:15: "Speak the truth in love, growing in every way more and more like Christ." The truth is not always easy to speak. If I can share some of the truth that I know, or am learning, or is on my mind... then hopefully that helps me, and maybe it helps someone else as well.

Circling back to my opening line: I am a writer. It's in my blood, and I'm starting to think it might be by design. So let's take this journey, one step at a time, and watch what happens.