Kari's Blog

If It Weren’t for Butterflies…

“If it weren’t for change, there wouldn’t be butterflies.”  These were words a camper shared with me when I was a summer camp counselor.  Her home congregation was going through several transitions, and this was wisdom her pastor had shared as a way to encourage them along the way.

To those going through change, however– especially change that they did not seek out or foresee– words like these can sound like little more than the platitude that it is.  Pleasant and true enough, yet devoid of any substance to truly help you in your time of need.

Yet, if we’re willing to sit with whatever discomfort or dis-ease a particular change evokes within us long enough, there is a sense of comfort and peace, and even inspiration and promise, that can emerge related to the words to which that camper had been clinging.  “If it weren’t for change, there wouldn’t be butterflies.”  

I’ve been reflecting on this a lot lately.  At various times throughout the last few weeks and months, I have reminded myself that with change, comes opportunity.  That doesn’t mean figuring out a new sense of normal, or a different way of moving forward, is easy or simple, but it does mean that there are opportunities to grow, to prune what isn’t working ( read Pastor Ben’s devotion about that here), and to make sure we are living according to the values we profess.

When it comes to seeing the beauty and the sense of possibility in change, our family has had quite the opportunity lately.  Family friends of ours have been on vacation, and while they are gone we have had the chance to care for their chrysalises.  When we got them, several were close to emerging, and it has been an incredible experience to watch this change take place.  So far, we have released ten monarchs, and there are several others on their way.

Seeing the monarch emerge and then releasing it into the world is a sight to behold.  It is also a wonderful reminder that God is the author of all that is good, right, and beautiful and has good things in store for us.  And when we feel unnerved by a lack of control at the changes happening around us, it is also a good reminder that what the psalmist wrote in Psalm 27 holds true: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. (So) Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!

Growing Trust

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
    and do not return there until they have watered the earth,

making it bring forth and sprout,
    giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
11 so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
    it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
    and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:10-11

The last several weeks, I have taken great delight in watching my garden grow.  After impatiently waiting for tulips to bloom and the seeds we planted to sprout, it finally looks as though things are taking off and the garden will indeed bear fruit.  I love looking things over and seeing how they are changing.  

I have to be honest and admit that I don’t get to this point effortlessly.  Every year, I eagerly look forward to planting and working in the garden, but I also fret over whether or not the bulbs and plants and vegetables will take off.  I haven’t yet learned to not take it personally when something doesn’t flourish and often question my abilities and methods.  Eventually, I convince myself to take a deep breath and enjoy the process.  And when signs of growth finally become apparent, I am filled with relief, as well as gratitude and thanksgiving. 

It’s not lost on me the connections that this has to my inward spiritual life.  I regularly pray that God will grow me in the fruits of God’s Spirit, help me love as God loves, and be a person of grace in my interactions with others.  Yet it isn’t always easy to see that growth actually taking place.  In fact, the reminders of how frequently I fail to trust God’s provision, to look upon another with friendly eyes, and to turn my concerns over to God are many.  Sometimes I start to wonder if or when I’ll ever change. 

But then, every so often, something will happen that helps me see that I am indeed growing and that God isn’t through with me yet.  And when that happens, I am filled with a deep sense of peace, as well as gratitude and thanksgiving.In thinking of this, I am reminded of the words from Isaiah quoted above.  These words remind us that God is at work in the world, and in us, and that God’s word accomplishes that for which it is sent.  

Although it may not always seem obvious that this is the case, we can trust that God will lead and guide us.  As we ask God to grow us in Christ, we can be confident that our prayers will not return empty.  And when we get frustrated by what seems like slow progress, we can take a deep breath, knowing that God is in control of the process and does not leave us to figure it out on our own.

Searching for Peace

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” –John 14:27

Most days, I get to take our dog for a his midday walk.  It’s not usually a very long one, but especially on those days when I go by myself, I’m grateful for a few moments to be outside and take a few deep breaths without any interruptions.  

My dog and I don’t always take the same route, but regardless of where we go or how long we are out, Blaze is eager to sniff everything he can get his nose on.  The other day, when I thought for sure he was leading me into a grassy area in order to do his business, it turned out he was just sniffing his whole way through.

This reminded me of something a friend reflected on in college.  He said some people, when trying to find their direction in life, decide right away and get to it.  Others, he said, are more like a dog who has to check out several places before finding just the right spot to lie down.  

Lately I’ve been thinking about this analogy not only in relation to Blaze, but in regards to my thoughts and how wandering they have been.  Especially when I think about the words Jesus shares the night before his death in the gospel of John, it’s no wonder that I have a hard time experiencing the peace of God when I I flit from worry to worry or fret about one hypothetical situation after another.  In contrast, when I pause and submit those cares to God, that is when I am more able to rest in the abiding presence of Jesus and trust that no matter what happens, God will provide.

This reminds me of how important it is during these days–when so much uncertainty still exists regarding COVID-19, its long-term effects, and what that means for our daily living– to take some time each day to rest in the promise of God’s love and care– for me, and for all of God’s creation.  When I do, I’m reminded that I don’t need to carry the burdens of the world on my shoulders; I don’t need to have the answers to the many perplexing questions that linger.

There’s no doubt in my mind that God has given each of us a role in caring for our neighbors and serving those in need, but the truth is that none of us is tasked with taking care of all of it on our own.  In John 14, Jesus promises his disciples that he will send them another advocate who will help and guide them.  This means that both Jesus and the Spirit continue to be at work in our lives.  In John 15, he tells them that it is by staying connected to the vine that they can do the work he has entrusted them to do and that their joy will be complete.  He wants them to know that dwelling in his love is what will give the strength they need for all that lies ahead.

Today, Jesus speaks these same promises to us.  He invites each of us to draw close to him, to settle back in his loving arms, and in so doing, to experience the peace of God–something only God can give– and that surpasses all understanding (Phil 4:7).

More than Conquerers

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? 36 As it is written,

“For your sake we are being killed all day long;
    we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.”

37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:35-39)

Like many others I know, my heart has been heavy with grief instead.  I’ve been grieving: The number of people who have died from COVID and all the ways it has impacted our lives.

I’ve been grieving the death of George Floyd, for friends of mine who live in the neighborhood that burned down last week in Minneapolis, and all the resulting violence, destruction, and acts that, quite frankly, distract from the change that is needed in our world.

And I’ve been grieving where we are as a nation, for how divided we have become, and for the politicians who have been inclined to make excuses for George Floyd’s unnecessary death, to rationalize the systems that continue to keep some people on top and others on the bottom, and to deflect from the problems that exist.

Yet it is precisely because of all that has been happening and all the brokenness in our world that I have had to cling to the promise that we hear in the book of Romans.

The promise that we are more than conquerors.  That Christ has won the victory.  And that there is nothing that can separate us– or any of God’s children, for that matter– from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

When the world appears as though it is out of control, these aren’t the easiest things to remember.  And yes, like I said in the connect time, there are altogether too many examples that prove the world is not the way God intended it to be and that the Kingdom of God is not yet fully realized.  But it is so important that we do.

Because if we aren’t intentional about remembering that death and violence and destruction will not win, and that cruelty, hatred, and fear will not prevail, we might be tempted to throw in the towel and think what’s the use?  Or we might surrender to the grief and the pain and the hurt and think that all is lost.

But the thing is, we, and our community, our nation, and our world need to hear the good news, now more than ever, that all is not lost.  That “a light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.”They need us to continue to choose to believe that there is good in the world, and to take a stand against injustice and oppression and work for lasting change.

Because it is only when we do that we will be able to truly experience the fullness of life and victory that God desires for us.  As Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.”

That’s why, in the midst of all the pain and hurt and grief lately, I am so grateful for the reminders that have come my way this week that the world is not out of control; that God’s goodness will overcome; and that, as it says in the book of Isaiah, “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.”

Getting to this point certainly doesn’t come quickly.  It requires us to get our hands dirty.  It will likely even require us to give up things and systems and opinions we hold dear.  

Yet when we do, I am convinced that is when we will be able to experience the transformation and victory that is ours in Christ most fully.  And when we will experience and see the kingdom of God in our midst.

But I Don’t Want to Wait

I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! Psalm 27:13-14

“But I don’t want to wait.”  Over the last couple of months, perhaps, you too, have heard this refrain numerous times, in response to a variety of things.  It’s not a new phrase, by any means, but everything that has happened (or not happened) recently has given these words a new depth of meaning.

Although you may not have said quite like this, many of you have likely grown tired of waiting since COVID-19 started to impact our lives personally and directly as well.  Whether we are old or young or somewhere in between, when it comes down to it, waiting is rarely easy.  It is all the more difficult when we don’t know exactly when the things we are waiting for will happen.

In thinking about this, I was reminded of the closing words of Psalm 27: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”  This psalm is a song of confidence, expressing faith and trust in God in the midst of the challenges and threats God’s people faced. 

There is comfort and hope to be found within these words, and all the more so when we think of when these words would have been sung.  After all, God’s people were no strangers to waiting.  They knew what it was like to wait without knowing precisely when their waiting would come to an end.

In fact, waiting with expectant hope and trust has been a hallmark trait of God’s people for thousands of years.  With that in mind, even though we do not yet know exactly when we will be able to do a variety of things that we used to do, as we wait, we can be certain that God is with us.  We can be confident that God will not leave us nor forsake us.  And we can trust that God is at work in the meantime: there are a few things we can depend on: creating faith, forgiving sins, bringing life and salvation. 

Like all those who have sung or read or prayed Psalm 27 over the years, we pray you too find strength knowing that God is our help and shield.  May your heart be glad as you trust in the promise of God’s steadfast love and provision.

Tending to Your Heart in the Frenzy of Life

My freshman year of college, I went through a period where I loved Multigrain Cheerios. It was my go-to snack. So when I went to the grocery store one day and found boxes of this cereal on sale, it was like hitting the jackpot; I loved getting a deal on something I was going to buy anyway.

But as I started to put the boxes in my cart, the whole display of cereal boxes started falling down. The display had been set up in one of the biggest aisles, and there was no stopping it once it started to topple. 

I remember watching in dismay as other shoppers passed by me- it was obvious that I was one to blame- yet at the same time I instinctively knew I had a choice about what story I was going to let this experience tell. Was I going to be humiliated by it and hide behind my embarrassment, or was I going to chalk it up to experience and let it be the reason for a good laugh? 

I chose the latter, and though this was a low stakes situation, these days I think back to that grocery store trip fairly often.To me, it’s a mental picture that illustrates what I often feels like as I try to hold the various roles and responsibilities of my life in tension. Between work, school, kids’ activities, finding time to connect with Thomas, meal planning and preparation, and everything else that fills our schedule, there are plenty of days when I feel just one step away from the whole thing tumbling down.

To give you a bit of a background, my husband and I live in Central, MN, with our two kids, a Golden Retriever, and two hamsters.  I’m a full-time Lutheran pastor and my husband is a public accountant. Thomas grew up in the Netherlands until he was nine, when his family emigrated to New Zealand. We were married the same week I graduated from seminary and that my first congregation voted to call me as their pastor.  

My first call was to a small, rural congregation, where I served for four years.  We had about 250 total members and a very small staff. Our daughter was born while serving this congregation. Then, while pregnant with our son, I received a call to serve as associate pastor in a large congregation nearby. This congregation, where I’ve served for nearly eight years, has over 2500 members, a dozen full-time staff, and four weekly worship services.  Our son was born on my only day off between calls.

I remember hearing our Dean of Students in seminary share a statistic about the number of women compared to men in parish ministry. At the time, the number of men and women graduating with a Master of Divinity degree in the ELCA was about equal. Once women started a family, however, many left the ministry because of the challenges that arose and the lack of support that was available in navigating the demands of each calling.

Over the years, this is something I have thought about often. Because of the blurry lines that exist in ministry between work and family time, I feel the constant struggle of juggling home and work and caring for myself as well as others. I often find myself wondering how much is enough and if I’m doing the right thing, and more often than not, there are no easy answers.

There have been times when I have felt defeated in my efforts, as though at any given moment, I was letting either my family or my congregation down. At times, I’ve also found myself on the verge of burnout, unsure of how I would be able to do this for the long-haul.

In those times when it was much easier to see the ways I was falling short than it was the things I was doing well, I would find myself thinking of that day in the grocery store when the tower of cereal boxes came tumbling down. “That’s my life,” I would start to think. 

Sometimes this feeling made me want to crawl under my covers or stick my head in the sand like an ostrich. But on my best days, I remembered that I had a choice about how I would respond- that rather than shrink behind a feeling of failure, I could lean into the discomfort, smile at myself, and in so doing accept that it wasn’t up to me to keep the whole stack together anyway.

It is those times when I have been able to laugh at myself and cut myself some slack when I have felt God’s grace most strongly and when I have felt most fully alive. Though I have spent too much time over the course of my ministry trying to be who I thought others wanted me to be, when I started to pay attention to what gave me life and what drained me, I was able to not only accept, but embrace, the woman God had created and called me to be- in all my various roles.

My sincere hope is that through sharing some of my own journey, it will provide an opportunity for you to reflect on your own, to listen to what God may be saying, and to be inspired as you take a few moments to tend to your heart in the frenzy of life. 

The Proper Imbalance

Several years ago, I was overdue for some time alone, so I scheduled a massage, squeezing it into the only free hour I could find in my calendar. I couldn’t wait to tune out for a while and not be needed by anyone. That all changed when, fifteen minutes into the massage, I sat up in alarm, realizing that I had completely forgotten to pick up my then preschool-aged daughter. I threw on my clothes and ran out the door as fast as I could. And as I drove to pick her up, I remember thinking what a perfect portrayal of my life this was.

Since becoming a mom, I’ve read countless articles and books about finding work/life balance. This is also a common topic in conversations with other moms. Some are pastors; others work in a variety of professions. Some work full-time, others part-time, and some are stay at home moms. Yet the thing we have in common, is that we are each, in our own way, trying to figure out the answer to this elusive question.

In one book I read, the author said that for her, the trick was to identify five top priorities and to then choose three each day. Another author said she and her husband came up with a list of things that were present when their whole family was at their best, then adjusted their work and kids’ activity schedules to make time for those things more consistently. 

In the ELCA, there is a visual tool called the wholeness wheel that shows multiple areas of wellness and invites the one looking at it to ask themselves if there is an area of well-being that they may have neglected or feel called to focus on.

However, no matter what tool you use to help navigate through the multiple demands and responsibilities that come our way each day, the fact remains that there are all sorts of factors that influence our decisions on a regular basis. Not only that, when it comes to discerning what a balanced life looks like, the answer often changes depending on the particular season or phase of life you happen to be in.

I once attended a conference where there was a brief time of entertainment before each general session. I’ll always remember one of the entertainers more than any of the others. Of all the entertainers, one stuck out to me more than the others. It was a man whose talent was plate spinning, which involved balancing numerous plates on long, wobbly sticks.

He started out with just a couple of sticks, on which he would place a plate and then spin it. As his act continued, he added more plates, one at a time, while at the same time making sure all the others kept spinning as well. The goal was for him to get all the plates spinning on top of the sticks at the same time without any of them falling. I don’t remember this guy’s name, but I do remember this image and how close he was, multiple times, to one of the plates crashing down. I’m often reminded of this visual in my own life. It takes constant energy to keep the balls of life up in the air.

No matter what season of life we are in, there are many things we each need to juggle. On top of that, though there are ups and downs to each phase, and something particularly great and particularly challenging to every season, we live in a world that is drastically different than the one many of us grew up in.

Among other factors, social media, pressure to enroll our kids in activities at an early age, and increasing rates of depression and anxiety in children and adolescents cause many parents today- at least this one- to feel as though the stakes are higher than they ever were before.

It’s because of this reality that I’m often reminded of something I heard my senior year in seminary, when a retired pastor came to talk to one of our classes about his experiences in ministry. My classmates and I were particularly interested in hearing how he had balanced the commitments of work and home. His answer caught us by surprise: “I quickly learned there is no such thing as a balanced life,” he said. “It’s more about figuring out what the proper imbalance is at a given time.”

Hearing those words early in my professional life took away any allusion that a perfect work/life balance was achievable. They helped me grasp the reality that life and ministry would be a perpetual juggling act, something that has held true.

The Need for White Space

When we bought the house we live in now, there wasn’t a lock on the bathroom door. For the first couple of years, this didn’t bother me, and even made sense, because our kids were young and we had rarely locked the bathroom door in our previous house anyway.

Yet a few months ago, it dawned on me that we still didn’t have a lock on the bathroom door, and our kids were now old enough to respect a private moment. So one day, when one of the kids walked in to tell me something they simply couldn’t wait to tell me until I was out of the bathroom, I decided it was time for a change. Shortly after that, we took a family trip to the hardware store to pick out a new door handle, this one with a lock.

This experience got me thinking about how easy it is to feel as though we should always be available, not only for our kids, but often for people in general, and especially in parish ministry. Sometimes, this is because in the past it was necessary for us to be so for a period of time, but sometimes it is also because that is the precedent we have set; the way we have trained people to treat us.

I’ve been known to tell my colleagues, “Just because you have an open space in your day, doesn’t mean it’s free to be taken up by something or someone else.” Yet I frequently need this reminder myself. It is so easy (at least for me) to fall into giving away the time that I might otherwise have taken to exercise, journal, or even work on a sermon.

Over the years, I’ve learned there are several factors related to this tendency. For me, aspects of my personality lend me to be fairly accommodating. Not only that, I am a middle child, and there’s a tendency for middle children to take on a peace-maker role. And then there is the reality that, to a large extent, many of us have grown up with the mentality that it’s somehow selfish to take time for ourselves.

In thinking of this, I’m often reminded of a time shortly into my first call, when I went home one day and told my husband I hadn’t had a chance to go to the bathroom for hours, having spent the day running from one thing to the next. Without skipping a beat he replied, “Lesson one in self-care. Go to the bathroom when you need to go.” It sounds pretty straightforward, but it’s surprising how often I don’t follow through on it, choosing instead to do one more thing or put someone else’s need before my own.

His comment is along the same lines of what anyone who travels by air hears in the opening safety instructions: “In the event of an emergency, put on your own oxygen mask first.” Again, this is pretty straightforward.

Yet, I’ve met plenty of women who get what a challenge heeding it can be. Of course, this tension between tending to our own needs and caring for others isn’t just present for women. But as women, the cultural expectation is that it is our role to put others first, even at the expense of sacrificing our own needs.

We’ve taken comments like one made by Maya Angelou to “never ask of another what we can do ourselves,” to mean that we should be able to do it all. Or that if can’t, there’s something wrong with us. We tell ourselves that someday our kids or our aging parents won’t need us so much or that we won’t have so much to do.

In the process, even though we know it’s important, we put so much effort into saying “yes” to others that we end up saying “no” to ourselves. And eventually, it starts to catch up with us. Because the reality is that there’s a direct correlation between how well we take care of ourselves and the extent to which we’ll be able to experience the fullness of life Jesus desires for us.

I Am

Recently I had the opportunity to reconnect with my ninth grade English teacher, who to this day, is one of my favorite teachers.  It was delightful sitting down with her over a cup of tea, listening to her stories and reminiscing about projects we did in her classroom.

One of the things I will always remember doing in Mrs. Hanzel’s class is writing a poem titled, I Am.  There were prompts for things such as, “I see…I wonder…I pretend…” and we had to fill in the blanks to complete the sentence.  I loved projects like these, where I got to think deeply and express my true self, especially in a time of life when I was trying to figure out who I was and cared too much about fitting in.

This poem is one of the things I have saved from my high school years, and though some of the things I wrote then don’t apply anymore, several of them still ring true.  I can’t help but think that the same would be true for all of us.  

Certainly, there are things about us that change over time, and areas where we all need to grow, but there are also parts of each of us that are intrinsic to who we are and things that make our heart sing.  These are important things to pay attention to, and hold close, especially when there is constant pressure from many places trying to tell us who we are and what we should do. It’s not easy to navigate through all these expectations if we don’t know who we are and to whom we belong.

Because of this reality, it’s important to hold onto the truth that we are created and loved by God and to remember that this is one of those things that doesn’t change about us through our life.  I’m reminded of this when I read Psalm 139- “It was you who created my inmost parts; I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”  

This truth is reiterated to us in our baptism, when we are given the name child of God.  It’s a name that can never be taken away from us, and in a society where our worth seems forever up for grabs based on who we know and what we do, this is good news for all of us.

The fact that we are created and loved by God- a promise that is not dependent on how well or how much we do- is freeing as much as it is comforting.  Knowing who we are in Christ allows us to try new things without worrying about what happens if we fail. It allows us to keep growing and learning, not having to be afraid of change or what people might say if we don’t do something the way we have always done it.  And it allows us to show ourselves- and others- grace and compassion when we or they don’t live up to our expectations.  Today, I invite you to spend some time with God, reflecting on how you would answer the prompts in an I Am poem.  How might you answer the sentence, “I wonder…I dream…I understand…?”  Then, I invite you to sit in that stillness a bit longer, and to remember that, in Christ, you are forgiven; you are loved; you are a child of God.

A Hand Up with Hope

A former professor of mine once had two student volunteers come up front with their backpacks.  The professor asked them both if they thought they could climb a hill while wearing their backpack, to which both responded, yes.  

The professor then placed a large rock in the backpack of one of the students, and then asked them the same question.  Again, the students replied yes. This continued for awhile, with the professor placing another rock in the same student’s backpack each time.  But eventually, the student with the rocks in his backpack had to admit he could no longer lift the backpack, much less carry it up a hill.  

Though I don’t remember everything about the discussion that followed that day, what I do remember is that the point of the illustration was that we don’t all have the same starting point in life.  On the one hand, this is pretty obvious. We all know people who have been born into a family with more, as well as people who were born into a family with less. Yet in plenty of other ways, this reality that we don’t all have the same starting point in life can get overlooked, forgotten, or even disregarded.

As a nation, we’re fond of stories of those who have pulled themselves “up by their bootstraps,” and those with privilege often attribute where they’ve gotten to in life to their hard work.  Certainly, hard work is something to be commended; but we’d be amiss if we thought everyone has access to the same opportunities, networks, and investments that can also make a big difference as well.

That’s why I’m grateful for all the people in our community who work tirelessly and passionately to give a hand up to those who need it.  When I see their work, whether it be paid or volunteer, to help someone else have a healthy, productive life, I’m reminded of God’s call to us in Psalm 82: “Give justice to the weak and the orphan; maintain the right of the lowly and destitute.  Rescue the weak and the needy” (vs. 3-4).  

This is a call that echoes throughout all of scripture, and there are countless stories in the Bible that remind us that it is in coming alongside the little and the least that one encounters Christ.  Whenever we heed this call to work for justice, feed the hungry, and tend the sick, we are not only able to catch a glimpse of God’s kingdom come on earth, we can also trust that we’re a part of what God is up to in the world.  

The kingdom of God is made known through the gospel promise that no matter what our station or economic situation in life, God’s love is for all.  It is not based on how much we have or how well we do. In a culture that prizes wealth, power, and prestige, this can at times be hard to remember.  But it’s good news for all of us.  

It’s good news to those who have plenty, because it reminds them that their worth isn’t based on their bottom line.  And it’s good news to those who are born into poverty, because it reminds them that God has a future in store for them filled with hope.  Though that future is not yet fully realized, when it comes, it will be as it is written in the book of Isaiah: “You shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you will burst into song, and all the trees of the field will clap your hands” (55:12).