It was supposed to rain for today’s ocean baptism, so we had different kinds of contingency plans … A group of us gathered last night to pray and asked God for weather mercies.  When we woke up this morning, it was amazing weather – overcast most of the time – not a drop of rain. So awesome!

We gathered first for a time of worship, testimonies, and gleaning from the word…. then moved into our friend Yuko’s baptism… then a bbq… then a farewell party for our dear friend Tobi.  It was a lot  — a lot of planning, thought, prayer, emotions.  It has been really great to plan this day with some of our amazing team, and I felt so proud of Eric as he led throughout this day.  This was his first ocean baptism…. his first one in Japanese….. and he did amazing– really guided, I believe, by God.

But it was so not about us- it was about a really special community that God has been weaving together.  We often experience the amazing qualities of God-ordained community when there are tragedies and sorrow.  In many ways this group was formed as a result of the awfulness of the disasters two years ago.  But today was a chance to see a community in full blossom – celebrating with joy what God is doing in our midst.  I have never been part of – or even attended — a baptism with so much joy!

When I talked with Yuko tonight after we had all returned home, she mentioned the special perspective Eric, she and I had as we walked out into the ocean and looked back at the beachside.  What an amazing sight!  What an amazing community all gathered to witness God’s work in the life of someone we have all come to love!  As Eric brought her out of the water, we all popped streamers as a tangible way of showing our joy at what God has done.

As Yuko shared her story before we went down to the beach, I was stunned.  There were no details that I did not know, but the sum total of her life before this past year is pretty horrible.  Numerous times when she had wished her life to end.  

And she talked about the day that she and I met one year ago, on May 19th.  We were at a festival – Be One was there with numerous other organizations.   (She and Eric corrected one part of the story I have gotten wrong – she and her three daughters were standing in line waiting for popcorn, not shave ice!)

As she shared today, she looked into my eyes and said I was the first person she met who really cared about her and her story.  I still remember how my heart ached that hot morning as she told me of her many losses. I cried a lot  that day.   Tonight I went back and read the blog post I had written that night — having little idea what God would do over the course of one year.  At the end of the blog post, I wrote,

She had to leave with her fussy little one, and I had to attend to mine.  She started to walk away, and then ran back again for a hug.  I whispered in her ear, “You are not alone.  There is hope.”  Pray that I/we are able to back this up with real actions, real love, real opportunities to bring hope.

It was a good reminder of the continual need to listen to God’s promptings.  I feel so busy, so often. Many times I am trying to check off a long list of to dos and sometimes I am afraid that I miss the nudging of the Holy Spirit to really see  the silent pleas of those around me. I don’t want to miss those who are around me so are so in need of hope.

After Yuko’s testimony, I shared that last week we had a volunteer here from Singapore.  She had come last fall, as well, and spent some time with Yuko.  She didn’t recognize Yuko this time – she is so glowing and hope-filled now.  God has done an amazing transforming work over this past year. It has not been an easy process.  And it has very much been a two-way street of receiving and giving love.  I remember the hot summer days before the Nozomi Project started when Yuko would come over and hang laundry for me.  And the times when I was sick and this single mom with three little ones brought meals over me.  God has knitted us together and grown us both up in love.  Her growth has also come from many in the community who have loved on her and received love from her.  Thank you to so many who have prayed, written, and loved on her!

I have been reminded this past week that discipleship is a process. It did not begin today, nor did it end today.  The process of transformation will continue – in all of our lives.  But today was one amazing step forward for  Living Hope in Ishinomaki, the very kind that does not disappoint.

I have to admit that there are times in which I find myself doubting the power of the Word to really transform lives, especially when we are working in an area that is completely ignorant about the Bible. After sharing about the birth of Jesus last December with the Nozomi staff, I remember the complete shock on one of the Nozomi staff faces as she exclaimed, “So Jesus wasn’t American?”  

This week has served to put any of my doubts to shame.  

Last Tuesday our friend Jonathan Wilson was coming through Ishinomaki and wanted to stop by the Nozomi Project.  One of the staff drove back to the home of Y., who hasn’t been able to come to work for six weeks or so because of a very sick family member and her own panic attacks and depression since the tsunami.  Y. and several other Nozomi staff had been hosted by the Wilsons’ church earlier this spring  Y. really wanted to see him – so she came into the Nozomi house. 

She has not been well – barely walking.  She laid down on the sofa as Jonathan began sharing with her from the Word.  I left them alone and went next door. I came back an hour later and Y. was standing in the kitchen.  Her first words to me?  “Sue – the Bible is so powerful!  It revived my heart!  I’m so glad that I came here!”

Jonathan is an awesome evangelist and Bible teacher, but it wasn’t about him really – I’m sure he would agree.  The power of the Word!

Today we were in house church.  One of the younger members of our group suggested a passage on his heart:  Philippians 4:4-8.  We read it together a few times, then in silence, allowing the Holy Spirit to speak to us.  I was so convicted of verse four – “let your gentleness be made known to all.”  I have been frustrated this weekend about some grumblings at Nozomi and was ready at our next staff meeting to march in and make things right.  I was nudged by the Word that there are much better ways to do things — to allow gentleness to flow through and from me.  This is what will change people.  So thankful for this beautiful reminder of how God wants me to lead!  

And as we shared in small groups today, one of the moms who has been coming with her daughters for a few months caught me up on the challenges of her junior high daughter N.  N. has been verbally abused by her sports’ club coach.  It got so bad that for the past week she has not been able to go to school.  But on Friday, N and her mom studied the Bible, and the command to forgive your enemies.  N. gathered up all of her courage and with the assistant coach by her side went in and shared her heart with the abusive coach.  N’s mom said, “we knew that forgiveness was the only way out.”

I really do not need to fear sharing the Word – even with those who have no background.  It can stand on its own.  I really do love the Bible.

It has been an exciting week as we have moved in the new Nozomi house next door to our new home!  Asian Access leaders, some awesome carpenters, many volunteers and others have helped to make this a reality.  There have been some bumps in the road in moving in, which I guess should be expected. You can pray that God will give us wisdom in settling things and helping each staff feel comfortable and figure out what they need to make the new location a good place for them to be.  (And would you pray that God would provide parking for us?  We haven’t been able to find a nearby parking lot that we can rent, which has caused a lot of anxiety for some of the staff).

Recently I have been interviewed for magazine articles about the Nozomi Project.  If I am honest it was fun, and it makes me excited for what God is wanting to do at NP.  But I have also felt really uncomfortable.  Really.  I wanted those writers – and you who are reading this — to know my thoughts.  This is similar to what I shared  with them in writing after the interview:

I am on the plane right now, somewhere high above my lives and my loves.  It has been a full, rich week of hanging out with my dad and sisters and a few friends thrown in…even a chance to have lunch with family friends from Sanda who were visiting nearby.  I cannot swallow fully when I think about how hard it is to say goodbye to each sister, and my Dad, each last time.  We never really know when the next time will be, so we milk the moments as we can. 

With my dad, this visit seemed to be filled with everyday sorts of things — like him sharing odd tidbits about the origin of the name of a street (most likely, he thinks, named after the doctor who led one of the Delanco tent meetings in the nearby town – my Dad sang in a choir with his daughter); or telling me about the flower bed he plans to make using the dried seeds from two rare varieties he finally has growing out in the back.  We visited a retirement community where he and his wife Mickey are hoping to get into this fall.  He is worried that his sometimes-memory struggles will keep him from getting in;  I look at him and hope I have half his memory at the age of 85.  I am sure that for however long he is able to live there he will bring more life and love and cheer to that place than he will be given back.

My three sisters and I spent the first day and a half of my time on retreat – catching up, window-shopping, sharing about our lives and our families over leisurely meals.  Several times we teared up;  our evening walk around a pond ended with all four of us on the ground in stitches, unable to stand.  A nearby six year-old wandered over to ask us what was so funny – there were no words but we asked him to take our picture with my iphone and he then felt a part of things.

Near the end of the week I met a high school friend, Pam, at Starbucks.  We had helped each other through different honors classes – and both ended up studying literature post high school because of the influence of a few amazing teachers.  We lost track of each other during college, so when we met at the newish Starbucks in our old town it had been 32 years!  So much to hear of each other’s lives;  so amazing to experience the richness of friendship.

Part of my solitary airplane time I have spent combing through and deleting too-many photos on my laptop and iphone.  I refuse to write the number of photos on my computer – it is simply unimaginable.  It’s only been eight days but I have felt such a longing to be with my children and husband again! I cannot wait to see them and hear about their weeks and share the caramels and mint nonpareils and orzo that I am bringing back.  I want to hear about each of Eric’s days and be able to carry his joys and frustrations again.

And I think how planes and callings separate us from people who we love so much that it tears our heart to be separated so far.  Sisters should be together much more often.  I long for continued daily visits with my Dad, and wish that my growing children could just hang out with him.  I want my little nephew Jackson to choose to come and snuggle in my bed when he wakes up in the early morning… but he doesn’t see me enough to do that. 

Photos and memories will help.  So will Skype and email and messaging.  Amy Carmichael wrote about separation from loved ones — that it is the wounded hands of Jesus that hold us each when we are far apart.  I choose to believe that – it is the only thing that makes these partings bearable. 

It has been quite a week to process. Here are a few of the things I’ve been learning –

–Continued Grief & Trauma: The day after 3/11, five of the Nozomi staff were absent… still themselves, or their family members, recovering emotionally from the difficult two-year anniversary of the disasters. During our staff meeting, I asked if it was a relief to them to have it behind them. I was met with puzzled stares. And they explained – it isn’t over. Every day now they are remembering what it was like two years ago on that day – the day after the day after that… Y. shared that her mother woke up that morning crying, remembering going out to look for her in all of the debris. One of the other members can barely handle remembering the not knowing for the next month if her son was alive or not, and then finding out he had died. So this week has continued to be somber for the women as they continue to remember.

I think that I’ve realized that the complete shocking nature of the tsunami (even after the warning sirens went off, most didn’t think it would really happen- all previous ones in recent memory had been false alarms), the extremely cold temperatures of both the air outside as well as the dirty tsunami water; the inability to prepare well or to contact people or to protect one’s family from these terrible conditions…. All of these factors serve to heighten the amount of PTSD and lengthen the grief and shock and pain that the people of Tohoku are suffering through. It really will be a long time….

–My own Inability to cope with things much lighter: This week our things from Sanda were supposed to arrive by truck to finally be unloaded into our new home! Even though the house inspection had been delayed a week or so, we were excited to get our things and get those things unpacked and ready for us to move in. We found out on Wednesday that you can’t move furniture into homes until the inspection is done (scheduled right now for March 26)…. So we will need to have the movers put everything into the unfinished house next door and then after the inspection carry it all out and into our home.

For some reason this news sent me into a tailspin. Now it just feels like one more setback; but at the time it felt beyond me. I had told a friend that there have been parts of this year where I have felt like a rubber band being pulled further and further apart; for a day or so this week I wondered if it might be snapping time. I was emotionally drained from four intense days around 3/11, from other issues going on in recent months; from “temporary living” and the energy it takes to create a new kind of normal for our family… We had started boxing up our current home about a month ago, and for those couple of days I just wanted NORMAL!

I could only see the next week ahead; not the long-term great realities of moving into an amazing home. I was missing perspective, and down on myself about it all.

That next evening, our friends Chad and Jennifer, sensing (not too hard to read!) my anxiety, took our kids for the night so Eric and I could get out for the evening. They brought our kids back and got them in bed, cleaning up our kitchen in the process. But what brought the rubber band back from its tight stretch was the hug as we were leaving, the mutual tears, and the exact words of encouragement that I had so needed to hear over those two days. I felt loved and overstood – even in the midst of feeling so bad for overreacting. The Japanese proverb: “A kind word can warm three winter months” was proven true on Thursday evening.

–THE NEW HOUSE: The house is looking amazing. Really. We are blown away by the details and final touches going into it. We will post photos soon! Those who have been coordinating this have done so with no pain and many many headaches. Their work has been an amazing gift to us.

–I got a request a month ago or so from friends of Be One who were interested in coming up and making a video of the Nozomi Project. I had never met them and worried how the staff would perceive this. What I loved was their sensitivity and listening hearts as they came and became a part of what God is doing. They released the video a few days ago. I watched it the first time really embarrassed that I was in it so much! But I couldn’t believe the beauty and honesty of several of the staff who are interviewed; and in the midst of struggles to see an overview perspective of what God is doing was really wonderful. Here is a link if you’ve seen it yet:

http://youtu.be/lqcKje6do3I

Thank you, Joseph and Amy! You are so gifted; so gentle. You inspire us.

–our friend Hiroshi from Sanda is with us this weekend to help us move… We aren’t moving yet, but it’s been a special gift to have him help with the prep and be part of our lives.
–AN UNEXPECTED GIFT – I wrote on facebook that Friday was the 24^th anniversary of my mom’s death. I shared how thankful I am for the different women God has brought into my life since then, and for my amazing three sisters. On Saturday when I had a meeting with my friend and coworker Yuko, she showed up with a beautiful bouquet of flowers…. Just to say that she was thankful for my Mom too because she brought me into the world and she’s thankful for my friendship. Another amazing, unexpected gift.

Today, 3/11, we have felt the burden and the privilege of walking with our Ishinomaki friends through the remembrance and the pain of two years ago.  We are thankful for so many who have joined across the world to pray with us.  We posted messages and photos today up on the wall for everyone to see — amazing reminders that Ishinomaki is not alone!

It has been a really special time of having a continually-running 24 hour prayer event going on here, while at the same time most of today (and continuing into this evening) having an open area where community friends could come for company, prayer, or to just have a safe place to be.

I have spent several hours yesterday and today being with Nozomi friends.  Whereas last night there was a time for some laughter and lightness, today has felt entirely different.  Heaviness.  Waiting.  Dread. Around 2:30 those of us all meeting together formed a circle, prayed, and sang several songs, stopping at 2:46 pm for a minute of silence to remember the long moment when all of the horror began.  There were sirens going off across town to remind us not to forget — who could?  Our children’s’ schools had a special assembly in which they did an early minute of silence all together; and then at the end of the school day at the exact time once again remembered together.

This afternoon I had on my heart Chi., one of my Nozomi friends.  Her husband is often away for work, and I know how shaken she had been during the big earthquake scare we had in December.  So Yuko and I decided to briefly visit her at home.  She had just helped her kindergarten daughter fall asleep for a nap;  her fourth grade son wasn’t home yet.  She cried at the door, remembering too vividly two years ago.  They have rebuilt a home in the same place as their previous one that had been washed away.  From their front door, we could see the path where the tsunami had come.  She couldn’t help but remember.

Yuko and Chi wondered how our friend N. might be doing today.  N. had tried in vain to hold onto her mother-in-law’s hand as the tsunami waters ripped them apart;  the water washed away her home and her family member in a swoop. We know the loss of her loved one must be felt more keenly today; her father has recently passed away as well.  Chi shared with us that her next-door-neighbor on that day had tried to hold dearly onto the hand of her fifth-grade son;  she could not. I imagine that a mother can never physically forget the feeling of her son’s hand being pulled away from her own. It is a bitter day for many.

As we parted ways at the car, we looked down and had a laugh at Yuko’s black shoes, with white fancy socks bunching out.

She had gone to the temple that morning with her father to remember her sister and sister’s unborn baby who had died two years ago.  Hurriedly she had dressed to come and join our time of prayer, forgetting to take off her fancy dress socks.  Life up here has a funny way of mixing the pain with the mundane.

Several friends and I had a very early dinner with dear neighbor sisters, who insisted on feeding us, knowing that we were in and out of gatherings and caring for our own children.  I tried to pray for the food and ended up crying;  we ate their delicious food (I never thought I would say boiled radishes and octopus are delicious – but they certainly were!);  and they commented on how their family has swelled to include so many of us in the past two years.  It was a sweet interlude in the midst of this day.

We discovered that a sealed letter had come to Nozomi Project for our friend Yuri.  She had not had a chance to come and meet us this weekend because of their own family commitments.  But when we circled back to the meeting place of prayer, we saw her husband, son and daughter waiting in the car.  I went and hugged them.  Her sixth grade daughter had not slept for the past two nights, unable to forget the memories of two years ago.  The family had spent the last two days at temples and family gatherings, lighting incense for their 3 year old who had been lost in the tsunami. Talking to her on the phone on Saturday, she said the hardest thing is knowing that her three year old is still wandering around trying to find the right path to God and to heaven.  I told her that in the deepest place of my heart I believe that he is with Jesus right now – that God loves the littlest and least and has welcomed him home…

I was so happy to go inside and briefly hug Yuri in person, pray together and pass on this unexpected letter.  It was from a christian american in Osaka who had bought a necklace made by Yuri. He sent her a wonderful letter of hope with some of his handmade postcards.  God’s timing was so sweet in showing such care for her on this particular day!

Eric is at the center now with thirty or so others, meeting and praying with youth from the community and others who could only join in the evening (today was a normal work/school day here).  There were quite a number of high schoolers who have become a part of Be One.  Others from across Ishinomaki continue to stop by – wanting to know that they are not alone today.

I truly believe that greater things are yet to come for this city;  that God does have special plans for these that we love so much.

I was remembering almost exactly ten years ago when i did a pretty crazy thing… i flew from Japan to Los Angeles to defend my PhD dissertation and then flew on to New Jersey- with a two month old baby.  I pretty much had to do the PhD thing;  but the New Jersey part – and flying with our amazingly beautiful little Owen — were not required.  But I flew home to surprise my Dad, who was turning 75 years old.  He came to the Philadelphia Airport – he thought he was picking up my sister Hannah.  I went over to him in baggage claim and asked if he would hold my baby so I could get my luggage off the belt.  He said sure, and put out his hands to hold a stranger’s baby. NO CLUE.  I said, “Dad?” … his legs buckled and my sisters and I all grabbed the baby who almost was dropped in the shock of things. It was an awesome surprise (but I decided not to risk doing it again for fear of a true heart attack!);  we had a really special 75th birthday celebration.

Ten years later, and alas, I was not able to fly home to celebrate this time.  But my two sisters Allison and Beth, and their husbands, did an amazing job last night celebrating a life well-lived.  What was going to be a small dinner party grew to about 25 – people in the area who have been significant to my dad over the years.  I would have loved to be there, but I’m thankful for the video that was made and can’t wait to see it!  I was able to skype in for a short time but it was a bad connection and I didn’t want to pull him away from such a special event.  (Below is one of my favorite pictures of my Dad and my youngest son!  Hilarious!  Taken in Lancaster, PA)

Rather than me trying to write what I love so much about this man, I am going to use excerpts of(without permission!) the letter that my sister Hannah from Montana sent to be read to my dad. She too was unable to get back for the celebration.  I am sharing this to a) to brag about the dad I love so much;  and b) to inspire us all as parents, mentors, and lovers-of-life.  My Dad has such an amazing way of celebrating life and loving people.  My sister says it best.

This summer, I had the privilege of having dinner with two of my father’s students [and a fellow teacher of his]. … Under the big starry sky of my Montana home, I was given the rare opportunity to sit with men who knew my dad in a way I had not really known him before. Story after story came out about my dad as a teacher. How Merry figured out a way to sit in on his class, even though he did not need those credits and would not get credit for it, simply because he wanted to learn from Mr. Plumb. Even in Middle School, these two extra-ordinary students figured out that my dad was an extra-ordinary teacher and sitting under his tutelage meant learning and being challenged and getting prepared for the ivy league schools they would later attend. There were stories about his tests that required more than memorizing answers – they required thinking and learning. And stories about using history lessons to convey the deep faith he had in God. Somehow, my dad wasn’t able to bring these guys into the fold of the Republican party so we had a few laughs at his expense that we imagined he would have enjoyed as a good start to a long discussion that would range from politics to history, religion, and somehow, always, the NY Times. Long into the night, I learned about my dad, the beloved teacher, the green thumb gardener, the colleague and friend. And I was proud in a my-heart-is-filled-up grateful-to-be-his-daughter kind of way.

While John and Merry got to have my dad as their teacher, I got to have him as my mentor. Teaching was something he deliberately chose to do. Mentoring was something I think happened almost without his knowing it. Growing up, my father became that wise and trusted counselor and teacher to me. It happened when I was out in his old beat up Chevy truck hunting for hidden sources of peat moss or firewood. Or the hours I spent with him driving the back roads of S. Jersey, the summer he took a job counting gypsy moths. Days spent in the garden and greenhouse, I learned how life springs from a tiny seed and some care, and how to build compost and grow fruit trees; I discovered how to grow plants from cuttings and watched him turn what we deemed a crazy idea into a boxwood empire. Time spent in the woods of the Poconos, I learned the names of plants and birds and trees. With all the knowledge I received as a kid, I should be a walking field guide [that I am sadly, not.]

Besides the workings of the natural world around me, my dad taught me things that are not written in books or taught in classrooms. They are taught by doing and living and those are the lessons I count most as the gifts I received for being a daughter of Bill Plumb.

My dad never turned away a friend or stranger. I grew up in a home with a revolving door that brought to our table missionaries, long-time military buddies, colleagues, students, pastors, and teachers. Late in the night he was holding the head of the man struggling with an addiction after everyone else went home. Or finding odd jobs around the house to help out the young friend struggling to make ends meet. Offering friendship to the father from Russia who barely spoke English but broke into a smile that spoke it all when he saw my dad. Living under the same roof as Bill Plumb meant Thanksgiving would probably look a lot like that first Thanksgiving with people who didn’t speak the same language. I recall one Thanksgiving in particular when we had a Frenchman, an Italian student, a Japanese couple, and a seminarian from Korea. It was a very quiet meal with a lot of pointing. People mattered in the house I grew up in.

And I learned about integrity from my dad; saying what you mean and meaning what you say. Even more challenging – living it! I learned about generosity and extravagant giving from my dad – I watched him bail out a once-millionaire headed for bankruptcy; offer money to a young man struggling to keep his family together; help me buy land and build a home so I would have a permanent place to live after moving around a lot. I learned what it is to give of your time when my dad would go to the fruit packing plant down the road and pick through the fruits and vegetables they were throwing away. There was so much good food being wasted that, for a man who had been through a war and lived in a third world country, is was about as wrong as any criminal offense out there. Twice a week we would go dig around in the big food bins of discarded food to salvage the good stuff. We would load that old red Chevy with it and drive it into Camden to a few different food banks he had worked with in the past. It was about investing in people and lives and programs because people mattered. The list of those giving lessons goes on.

I could go on but I realize there are others who would like to share what my dad has been to them, or taught them. There are literally hundreds of people walking around in the world today who had my dad as a teacher and I believe are different because of it. They are lucky. But I got to have him as a mentor, as a father, as a living example of the things I would not have learned without his life.

Dad, I have so many things to thank you for today. Thank you that I know the difference between a fir tree and a spruce tree. Thank you that I know the importance of composting and good soil. And that I turn off the water when I brush my teeth because our resources are limited and we are responsible for what we have been given. Thank you that you let me ask questions and have doubts in my faith while always encouraging me to continue seeking and trusting God. Thanks for the debates we will have the rest of our lives because you allowed me to have different opinions – and express them – even when you disagreed. Thank you that I was drawn into the work I do at the youth shelter because you taught me to love people – even broken, seemingly unlovable people – in a way that calls me out of myself and into the lives of others.

I have blogged in previous year about the interesting Valentine’s culture of Japan- on Feb 14th, girls are expected to make/buy chocolates and give to not only their “ooh-la-la” (as my girls call their crushes), but also to many of their friends.  Hence the burden falls on moms here to do a lot of the prep and to help make sure things get delivered… This year we saved small candycanes from Christmas and made hearts filled with white and milk chocolate and covered in sprinkles.  The girls especially loved the sprinkling part!  We wrapped them up (they got very sticky, I have to say) – and gave them out yesterday to friends in the community and to our Nozomi ladies.  Owen, by the way, blushed quite a bit when he received a special package of chocolates and even a cake from one potential ooh-la-la.  Smile.

Two things I loved this year about Valentines Day.  The first was coming home after a long day – in the car just praying that God would give me the energy it would take to give our family a good evening… and walking inside the door to find that my ooh-la-la had made dinner and prepared an amazing bouquet of favorite flowers- tulips and irises.

Eric and i have been seeking to be intentional in building up our marriage, and the absolutely sweetest thing about my day was the note that was attached  (Not sharing that!)

My second favorite thing was a card that Eric received from the Nozomi staff – along with some awesome chocolates!  Because the tradition is for the girls/women to buy for the boys/men, the Nozomi women had prepared special treats for our children but also for the husbands of Be One.  It was so so sweet.  Here is the card that they wrote out for Eric:

Eric has had a special part in the forming of the Nozomi community, and has continued to support the women and the business in a myriad of ways.  He continues to help with cutting the broken pottery, maintenance of the machinery and supplies, but also spiritually encouraging and sharing with the staff.  What one of the women wrote (top left corner) sums up one of the reasons why I am most thankful for my Valentine:

“[From] big body and big heart come very much very much gentleness.  Thank you!”