We had had a wonderful, anointed song service last night at church, and the spirited, substitute pianist was asked to sing a special song before she returned to her seat. When this dear lady sings and plays, all heaven comes down. Lost in the Spirit, she thunders on the keys, her aged body rocking back and forth, and fairly belts out worship songs that make you want to dance in the aisles.
Thankfully, our pastor was sensitive to the Holy Spirit and recognized the congregation’s willingness to yield to Him. “Let’s just all come to the altar to seek God, especially for our upcoming revival,” he entreated. There would be no sermon tonight, but we would hear from heaven. God met with us as many knelt, stood, or worshipped at their seats.
Finally, I rose from the altar where I was praying beside my husband and sat down on the front row. I noticed a young man kneeling alone at the altar, his head buried in his arms in prayer. A newcomer, here on a work assignment from out of state, he had previously expressed gratefulness for finding our church, though different from his own denomination.
Suddenly I felt drawn to go to him, and, uncharacteristically for me, I laid my hand on his shoulder and asked him if he had been baptized in the Holy Spirit. He lifted his head slightly and said he didn’t know. He nodded when I asked if he would like to be filled with the Spirit. Soon he was praying with uplifted hands, tears streaming down his face. I got my husband to come and pray for him, also, and others gathered around joining him as his prayers turned to praise and rejoicing.
Although it wasn’t scheduled for another couple of weeks, revival was here! Pastor asked the young man if he wanted to say anything as he got to his feet a little later.
“I might have told you,” he began, “I used to go to a Pentecostal church when I was in high school. But that was a long time ago. I hadn’t been in that kind of church since, until I came here,” he said, wiping his eyes. “My mother has been praying for me these many years when I haven’t been right with God. She’ll be so happy God has answered her prayers.”
God answered a lot of prayers last night, including my prayer for renewed strength and healing from a physical infirmity I’d had lately. Doctor’s tests the day before hadn’t revealed the cause for my fatigue and weakness, but I am already feeling stronger today, thanks to the faith-renewing touch of God’s Spirit last night!
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The Power Cord
My computer was dead! It went dark right in the middle of the article I was writing! No lights, nothing. No matter how many times I pushed “start”, it wouldn’t. Finally I closed it. When I was certain it was no use, I called my son to toll the funeral bell on my electronic friend. He said it sounded like something electrical, and for me to take it to the repair shop.
The next morning, I half-heartedly pushed buttons one more time, saying a prayer for it to come on. Just as I was about to close the lid, my computer sprang to life! Thank you, Lord! Later, I used it briefly, it shut down, but again, prayer brought it back! It had been resuscitated twice, but it went down for the third time. This time I took it to the computer shop.
It wasn’t dead, it only needed a new power cord! Praise God! I was feeling so bereft without it! The answered prayer had been dramatic, though, and my prayers that I wouldn’t have to get a new computer were answered, too!
Last night at our Bible study, the leader asked his grandmother to share the testimony again that she had given last week when we were absent. She said she would be happy to. Ms. Ruth said a few days before, she had taken a shower, got ready for bed, and suddenly felt very unwell. An awful feeling came over her, and she considered having her grandson take her to the emergency room. Just as she had made up her mind to do just that, she heard God say, “What about Me?”
Upon hearing those words, she thought, okay, I’ll go pray about this. She got into her recliner and began to pray. “Suddenly a feeling of warmth, almost a burning, began to go through me from here to here,” she said, drawing her hand down the middle of her chest and abdomen. “At first, it kind of scared me,” the elderly woman admitted, “but then when it stopped, I felt good, and I’ve been fine ever since!” She gave God glory for healing her, as the rest of us joined her in praise.
Before he started our lesson our leader asked prayer for pain he had been having in his feet and legs. Going on with the lesson, he began to read in Acts 3:2, about the lame man God healed through Peter and John. He read verses 7 and 8, which say, “And he took him by the right hand and lifted him up, and immediately his feet and ankle bones received strength. (8) And he leaping up stood, and walked, and entered into the temple with them, walking, and leaping, and praising God.”
When it was pointed out what he had just read, our instructor began jumping in faith that his feet and legs would be healed! I can’t wait ’til next week to see what God has done!
The next morning, I half-heartedly pushed buttons one more time, saying a prayer for it to come on. Just as I was about to close the lid, my computer sprang to life! Thank you, Lord! Later, I used it briefly, it shut down, but again, prayer brought it back! It had been resuscitated twice, but it went down for the third time. This time I took it to the computer shop.
It wasn’t dead, it only needed a new power cord! Praise God! I was feeling so bereft without it! The answered prayer had been dramatic, though, and my prayers that I wouldn’t have to get a new computer were answered, too!
Last night at our Bible study, the leader asked his grandmother to share the testimony again that she had given last week when we were absent. She said she would be happy to. Ms. Ruth said a few days before, she had taken a shower, got ready for bed, and suddenly felt very unwell. An awful feeling came over her, and she considered having her grandson take her to the emergency room. Just as she had made up her mind to do just that, she heard God say, “What about Me?”
Upon hearing those words, she thought, okay, I’ll go pray about this. She got into her recliner and began to pray. “Suddenly a feeling of warmth, almost a burning, began to go through me from here to here,” she said, drawing her hand down the middle of her chest and abdomen. “At first, it kind of scared me,” the elderly woman admitted, “but then when it stopped, I felt good, and I’ve been fine ever since!” She gave God glory for healing her, as the rest of us joined her in praise.
Before he started our lesson our leader asked prayer for pain he had been having in his feet and legs. Going on with the lesson, he began to read in Acts 3:2, about the lame man God healed through Peter and John. He read verses 7 and 8, which say, “And he took him by the right hand and lifted him up, and immediately his feet and ankle bones received strength. (8) And he leaping up stood, and walked, and entered into the temple with them, walking, and leaping, and praising God.”
When it was pointed out what he had just read, our instructor began jumping in faith that his feet and legs would be healed! I can’t wait ’til next week to see what God has done!
Monday, October 10, 2011
Jehovah Jirah, My Provider
Yesterday our pastor was preaching about God’s provision, referencing scriptures such as Genesis 45:21, when Joseph gave his brothers provision for their journey as they returned to Canaan to rescue their father’s house in the time of famine. Not only did he send resources to take back to their father, he also took care of their travel expenses and needs. The sermon emphasis was that not only will we have Heaven as our reward, but God also takes care of us in this life.
Last week one of our precious daughters, Amy, and two of our sweet grandchildren, Corrin and Rachel, flew out to visit us from Georgia. Our time together would be all too short, so I put a lot of planning into the days they would be here, knowing the kids, especially, would not be content to sit around the house and visit.
The first day, we went on a lovely walking tour through Cann Gardens to enjoy the beautiful fall flowers and scenic grounds. After a burger/milkshake lunch at Happy Days, which Corrin had requested, we took the kids to a private showing of A Dolphin’s Tale (since the local schools were not on Fall break, we were the only ones at the matinee).
I had a special dinner planned, and even though I had forgotten a few things, my family helped gather everything from goat cheese to dried cranberries in a dash to the supermarket. We would have salmon in puffed pastry, and cheese, cranberry and walnut salad with lemon/maple vinaigrette. I had just set the table with my prettiest dishes and was taking the entrée from the oven, when the electricity in the dining room went out. We could figure it out later, but right now, dinner was served and the room was dark!
I had two candlesticks on the table flanking a seasonal arrangement, but that wouldn’t make enough light. (The salmon rested on a yellow rice base and was topped with spinach, making a lovely contrast of colors when cut through, which couldn’t be appreciated in half-light.) Then I remembered a veritable inferno of grouped pillar candles on the fireplace mantel. I had bought them at Ikea in Houston earlier this year, and they had never been used. Our table was lit up brilliantly!
Thank you, Lord, for working everything out! He knew there would be a time when I needed those candles! I saw His hand in the details throughout their visit, from Amy’s appreciative comments about the smooth sheets and pretty bed covering, their enjoyment of our porch and their compliments on the meals, to their awe of the prairie dogs and eagles in the country. The best part was their safe arrival and safe return home. God had given them (and us) provision for their journey.
Last week one of our precious daughters, Amy, and two of our sweet grandchildren, Corrin and Rachel, flew out to visit us from Georgia. Our time together would be all too short, so I put a lot of planning into the days they would be here, knowing the kids, especially, would not be content to sit around the house and visit.
The first day, we went on a lovely walking tour through Cann Gardens to enjoy the beautiful fall flowers and scenic grounds. After a burger/milkshake lunch at Happy Days, which Corrin had requested, we took the kids to a private showing of A Dolphin’s Tale (since the local schools were not on Fall break, we were the only ones at the matinee).
I had a special dinner planned, and even though I had forgotten a few things, my family helped gather everything from goat cheese to dried cranberries in a dash to the supermarket. We would have salmon in puffed pastry, and cheese, cranberry and walnut salad with lemon/maple vinaigrette. I had just set the table with my prettiest dishes and was taking the entrée from the oven, when the electricity in the dining room went out. We could figure it out later, but right now, dinner was served and the room was dark!
I had two candlesticks on the table flanking a seasonal arrangement, but that wouldn’t make enough light. (The salmon rested on a yellow rice base and was topped with spinach, making a lovely contrast of colors when cut through, which couldn’t be appreciated in half-light.) Then I remembered a veritable inferno of grouped pillar candles on the fireplace mantel. I had bought them at Ikea in Houston earlier this year, and they had never been used. Our table was lit up brilliantly!
Thank you, Lord, for working everything out! He knew there would be a time when I needed those candles! I saw His hand in the details throughout their visit, from Amy’s appreciative comments about the smooth sheets and pretty bed covering, their enjoyment of our porch and their compliments on the meals, to their awe of the prairie dogs and eagles in the country. The best part was their safe arrival and safe return home. God had given them (and us) provision for their journey.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The Right Place at the Right Time
“Stop the car, Howard!” I cried, “That looks like a lost child!” We had just let our visiting daughter and her kids out at Walmart and were planning to circle or park, when I saw the little girl with a panicky, terrified expression on her face standing on the curb at the front of the store. She was crying, and no one was noticing, though several shoppers were coming out around her.
Releasing my seatbelt, I jumped out of the car almost without thinking.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked as I touched her shoulder.
“I lost my daddy! I lost my daddy!” she sobbed. I asked her what he looked like, and the color of his hair. Looking around, the only man I saw was of another race walking across the parking lot.
“Let’s go in and find your daddy!” I said as I took her hand. She wasn’t much over four years old.
“Not my daddy! My granny!” she clarified fervently. I told her we would go in to the “office” and they would find her granny. She calmed and trustingly held my hand as we entered the store.
“I have a lost child,” I said to the first employee I saw, a greeter. He looked very flustered, but told me to take her to customer service. Suddenly that seemed far away as I hurried past a bank, a money center, and maybe a game room. My heart was moved at the thought of this little child, maybe the age of my next-youngest granddaughter, innocently depending on a complete stranger to take her to safety.
Just as we entered the customer service area, an elderly woman standing at the counter turned around from her shopping cart and said, “Why, there she is right now!” as the little girl buried her face against the woman’s skirts. “She was just here a minute ago!” the woman exclaimed. Evidently she hadn’t realized right away that the child was missing, because she’d had time to get outside where I found her looking searchingly over the parking lot.
The clerk came around from around the counter, and in a lecturing tone, said, “Now if that ever happens again, you must come right to this area,” she told the little girl. And how would she find this area? I thought, putting myself in her place, less than 40 inches tall, unable to read, her thoughts a jumbled confusion in the crush of shoppers and bright lights?
I was just glad I had seen her. Anything might have happened to her, from stepping in front of a car to going with the wrong person. Thank you, God, that I hadn’t gone into the store with my daughter, that we hadn’t gone to Walmart earlier as we had planned, but I was, in this small window of time, able to save a little one from possible harm. It felt good to be part of something that I have no doubt was divinely orchestrated.
Releasing my seatbelt, I jumped out of the car almost without thinking.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked as I touched her shoulder.
“I lost my daddy! I lost my daddy!” she sobbed. I asked her what he looked like, and the color of his hair. Looking around, the only man I saw was of another race walking across the parking lot.
“Let’s go in and find your daddy!” I said as I took her hand. She wasn’t much over four years old.
“Not my daddy! My granny!” she clarified fervently. I told her we would go in to the “office” and they would find her granny. She calmed and trustingly held my hand as we entered the store.
“I have a lost child,” I said to the first employee I saw, a greeter. He looked very flustered, but told me to take her to customer service. Suddenly that seemed far away as I hurried past a bank, a money center, and maybe a game room. My heart was moved at the thought of this little child, maybe the age of my next-youngest granddaughter, innocently depending on a complete stranger to take her to safety.
Just as we entered the customer service area, an elderly woman standing at the counter turned around from her shopping cart and said, “Why, there she is right now!” as the little girl buried her face against the woman’s skirts. “She was just here a minute ago!” the woman exclaimed. Evidently she hadn’t realized right away that the child was missing, because she’d had time to get outside where I found her looking searchingly over the parking lot.
The clerk came around from around the counter, and in a lecturing tone, said, “Now if that ever happens again, you must come right to this area,” she told the little girl. And how would she find this area? I thought, putting myself in her place, less than 40 inches tall, unable to read, her thoughts a jumbled confusion in the crush of shoppers and bright lights?
I was just glad I had seen her. Anything might have happened to her, from stepping in front of a car to going with the wrong person. Thank you, God, that I hadn’t gone into the store with my daughter, that we hadn’t gone to Walmart earlier as we had planned, but I was, in this small window of time, able to save a little one from possible harm. It felt good to be part of something that I have no doubt was divinely orchestrated.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
The Winning Word
I found a Deluxe Edition Scrabble CrossWord Game at an estate sale. That means I paid a couple bucks for a $30-$50 game! The kind I’ve always wanted with a turntable and recessed squares to hold tiles. It’s in perfect condition, and I thought, never used, until today when I found a pad of “Official Score Sheets” in a recessed area in the bottom of the box. The three on top had been meticulously filled in, and the penciled date was recorded as 7/7/90.
The columns were neatly marked with scores of Gene, Dad, Mom and Tonya for two games on the first sheet. Tonya was the consistently high scorer except for once when Gene and Tonya played a couple of games with Lynn and Dale, and Lynn emerged the winner. Tonya was ahead on a game that was obviously interrupted as evidenced by a half-filled sheet. Maybe because the kids wanted to play, judging from the names of Katie, Anne and Mary in childish print beside their (lower) scores on the next sheet.
I was reminded of our church’s “game night” that we had every Friday in Mississippi when people were encouraged to bring their board games for an evening of fun and fellowship. My favorite was Scrabble, played on a unique-looking, revolving board treasured by a youngish, fun-filled lady who had inherited it from someone in her family. I remember the board sitting on an octagonal base, with sloped sides for each player, letter trays resting discreetly out of the view of other players at the bottom. Janell always carefully packed and put it away in the huge box at the end of the evening.
The major competitor for Scrabble was a game of Mexican Dominoes, presided over by a sprightly octogenarian who gave all participants a run for their money (figuratively speaking). Her crown of white curls bobbed in excitement as she won almost every game, her delighted laugh cackling above the howls of mock disappointment from her gentlemen opponents.
Both the domino expert and the vintage game board owner are gone now. My Mississippi friends have finished their game of life; their scores have been tallied, with any discrepancies paid in full by the blood of Jesus. The anonymous people recorded on the score sheet in my box are more than 20 years older now, possibly still in the midst of life’s game, or even having gone on.
Thankfully, our scores don’t have to be winning ones to obtain eternal life. We only have to come to saving faith in Jesus. Like Paul, may we say, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.” II Timothy 4:7-8.
The columns were neatly marked with scores of Gene, Dad, Mom and Tonya for two games on the first sheet. Tonya was the consistently high scorer except for once when Gene and Tonya played a couple of games with Lynn and Dale, and Lynn emerged the winner. Tonya was ahead on a game that was obviously interrupted as evidenced by a half-filled sheet. Maybe because the kids wanted to play, judging from the names of Katie, Anne and Mary in childish print beside their (lower) scores on the next sheet.
I was reminded of our church’s “game night” that we had every Friday in Mississippi when people were encouraged to bring their board games for an evening of fun and fellowship. My favorite was Scrabble, played on a unique-looking, revolving board treasured by a youngish, fun-filled lady who had inherited it from someone in her family. I remember the board sitting on an octagonal base, with sloped sides for each player, letter trays resting discreetly out of the view of other players at the bottom. Janell always carefully packed and put it away in the huge box at the end of the evening.
The major competitor for Scrabble was a game of Mexican Dominoes, presided over by a sprightly octogenarian who gave all participants a run for their money (figuratively speaking). Her crown of white curls bobbed in excitement as she won almost every game, her delighted laugh cackling above the howls of mock disappointment from her gentlemen opponents.
Both the domino expert and the vintage game board owner are gone now. My Mississippi friends have finished their game of life; their scores have been tallied, with any discrepancies paid in full by the blood of Jesus. The anonymous people recorded on the score sheet in my box are more than 20 years older now, possibly still in the midst of life’s game, or even having gone on.
Thankfully, our scores don’t have to be winning ones to obtain eternal life. We only have to come to saving faith in Jesus. Like Paul, may we say, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.” II Timothy 4:7-8.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Wait and See
We have a lot of older people in our church, and Sunday the soloist sang something dealing with “life’s setting sun”. Later, when he was taking the prayer requests, he commented on the song. “You know,” Tom said, “when I was singing that I thought about several of us that could apply to.” He went on, “I know my sun is setting.” Wow! He’s only a few years older than me, I thought, and I don’t feel like that!
“I had a friend,” the thin, sprightly man continued, “who was told he had only a few months to live and to get his affairs in order. He did that, planning his funeral and lining up his pall bearers. Six months went by, then a year, plus another year, and he was still living, Finally, all his pall bearers died,” he finished with a chuckle.
Then the pastor, who had come along side Tom standing at the altar, told a story. “Friday night wife and I went to the football game with Tom and Sophie to see their grandson play,” he began. “But at half time, when the score was Visitors 12 and Home 3, we decided to call it a night and go home,” he said, shaking his head. Then, turning to Tom, he asked, “Now what was the final score, Tom?” to which Tom answered, “Visitors 13, Home 36!” The pastor concluded, “It’s not over ’til it’s over!” On that encouraging note, they received the prayer requests.
Life is unpredictable. Also unpredictable are the things that come from children’s mouths. Our son wrote that their four-year-old daughter has spent most of her church time in the nursery, but she sat with them this past Sunday, which was communion Sunday. When Anne-Marie saw what was going on, she exclaimed, “Oh, we get a snack! And something to drink, too!” I doubt Tammy, her mom, could explain everything right then, but I’m sure there was a teaching moment later.
When Anne-Marie’s father was about her age or a little older, I heard him singing as we left the church one Sunday, “No, you’re not, No, you’re not, You’re not the temple,” misinterpreting the words of a hymn that say, “Know ye not, Know ye not, Ye are the temple. Ye are the temple of the Holy Ghost.”
As long as we have grandchildren’s football games to attend and kids’ funny sayings to make us laugh, we will at least feel young and have to admit that “It’s not over ’til it’s over.” Besides which, I got a new lease on life today at lunch out, when the cashier asked my husband and me if either of us might be over 55 to qualify for the seniors' discount!
“I had a friend,” the thin, sprightly man continued, “who was told he had only a few months to live and to get his affairs in order. He did that, planning his funeral and lining up his pall bearers. Six months went by, then a year, plus another year, and he was still living, Finally, all his pall bearers died,” he finished with a chuckle.
Then the pastor, who had come along side Tom standing at the altar, told a story. “Friday night wife and I went to the football game with Tom and Sophie to see their grandson play,” he began. “But at half time, when the score was Visitors 12 and Home 3, we decided to call it a night and go home,” he said, shaking his head. Then, turning to Tom, he asked, “Now what was the final score, Tom?” to which Tom answered, “Visitors 13, Home 36!” The pastor concluded, “It’s not over ’til it’s over!” On that encouraging note, they received the prayer requests.
Life is unpredictable. Also unpredictable are the things that come from children’s mouths. Our son wrote that their four-year-old daughter has spent most of her church time in the nursery, but she sat with them this past Sunday, which was communion Sunday. When Anne-Marie saw what was going on, she exclaimed, “Oh, we get a snack! And something to drink, too!” I doubt Tammy, her mom, could explain everything right then, but I’m sure there was a teaching moment later.
When Anne-Marie’s father was about her age or a little older, I heard him singing as we left the church one Sunday, “No, you’re not, No, you’re not, You’re not the temple,” misinterpreting the words of a hymn that say, “Know ye not, Know ye not, Ye are the temple. Ye are the temple of the Holy Ghost.”
As long as we have grandchildren’s football games to attend and kids’ funny sayings to make us laugh, we will at least feel young and have to admit that “It’s not over ’til it’s over.” Besides which, I got a new lease on life today at lunch out, when the cashier asked my husband and me if either of us might be over 55 to qualify for the seniors' discount!
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Like Father, Like Son
“Mama, remember that tank you got me for Christmas when I was a kid?” our son, Trevor, said to me over the phone yesterday. I had asked him what our grandson, 11-year-old Bradley, was up to, and, by way of explanation he had brought up the toy.
Of course I remembered! It wasn’t just a toy, but a miniature replica of a real army tank with rolling tracks that carried it realistically around the house, climbing over books, shoes, or anything else in its path. Young Trevor had seen it in a store and coveted it fiercely. If I remember right, it cost more than we usually spent on toys, but it was his special present that year, and he has kept it all this time.
“Well, Bradley wanted it to play with, but something is broken about it,” he went on. “But I found one on Craigslist still in the box, new from 1980 or so. We got it and now all Brad does is play with it!”
A chip off the old block. I could just see my grandson, so like his father with the same red hair, lying on the floor engrossed in imaginative adventures with the fascinating plaything. Trevor had spent countless hours the same way in the timeless world of boyhood, playing with racing sets, a favorite toy called “Chutes Away”, or that tank.
When he left home after college, the tank was a treasured possession that went with him. A couple of times over the years, Trevor has pulled it from his closet and showed it to me in a sentimental moment.. (This is the son who hangs on to a camouflage jacket from 20 years ago and still uses the same faded, paperback Bible from his teen years.)
“Well, you said Bradley is always asking what you did as a boy, so now he knows,” I laughed. Brad is incredulous that his dad survived without Wii games, computers, and video games. But when Trevor spins tales of hunting, fishing, and exploring the woods of his rural childhood, Brad is actually a bit envious.
I am thankful that not only has our son kept his Bible, he has also kept the faith he grew up with. Trevor and Jennifer are instilling in Bradley and his brother, Kyle, a foundation for their futures by attending church as a family and living by godly principles in front of them. Now that is equipping them with something more powerful than a military tank!
Of course I remembered! It wasn’t just a toy, but a miniature replica of a real army tank with rolling tracks that carried it realistically around the house, climbing over books, shoes, or anything else in its path. Young Trevor had seen it in a store and coveted it fiercely. If I remember right, it cost more than we usually spent on toys, but it was his special present that year, and he has kept it all this time.
“Well, Bradley wanted it to play with, but something is broken about it,” he went on. “But I found one on Craigslist still in the box, new from 1980 or so. We got it and now all Brad does is play with it!”
A chip off the old block. I could just see my grandson, so like his father with the same red hair, lying on the floor engrossed in imaginative adventures with the fascinating plaything. Trevor had spent countless hours the same way in the timeless world of boyhood, playing with racing sets, a favorite toy called “Chutes Away”, or that tank.
When he left home after college, the tank was a treasured possession that went with him. A couple of times over the years, Trevor has pulled it from his closet and showed it to me in a sentimental moment.. (This is the son who hangs on to a camouflage jacket from 20 years ago and still uses the same faded, paperback Bible from his teen years.)
“Well, you said Bradley is always asking what you did as a boy, so now he knows,” I laughed. Brad is incredulous that his dad survived without Wii games, computers, and video games. But when Trevor spins tales of hunting, fishing, and exploring the woods of his rural childhood, Brad is actually a bit envious.
I am thankful that not only has our son kept his Bible, he has also kept the faith he grew up with. Trevor and Jennifer are instilling in Bradley and his brother, Kyle, a foundation for their futures by attending church as a family and living by godly principles in front of them. Now that is equipping them with something more powerful than a military tank!
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