If you have Apple products and use the calendar, you know the holidays have included  Juneteenth every June 19 for some time. I’m so proud of that! And I’m even prouder that the president and vice-president declared Juneteenth a national holiday last week. On Thursday, emails were flying all over the corporate world—company policy moved fast and furiously. Juneteenth—now everybody knows what it means.

Well, I have to admit that I thought I knew the meaning of Juneteenth until a few years ago I learned I had it wrong. Wikipedia is our friend.

I thought Juneteenth was the anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation, abolishing slavery in the United States. No! Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation on September 22, 1862, and it became effective on January 1, 1863, during the fighting of The Civil War. 

The war continued after the proclamation until the truce was declared at Appomattox Courthouse as General Robert E. Lee surrendered on April 9, 1865. The news was suppressed or ignored in the Republic of Texas until very late April. Fighting continued through the surrender of the Army of the Trans-Mississippi and until the Union Army captured Galveston Island on behalf of the United States on June 18, 1865.

The very next day, the General Granger of the Union Army issued “General Order #3” declaring the emancipation of all enslaved peoples throughout the Republic of Texas. Here’s the text of the order:

The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor. The freedmen are advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages. They are informed that they will not be allowed to collect at military posts and that they will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere.

Texas became the first state to recognize Juneteenth as a state holiday in 1980 and most other states followed suit at least with a day of remembrance if not an official holiday except for Hawaii, Montana, and the Dakotas. Now it’s national—it’s official.

Quite obviously, there’s so much work on racism still to do in the US—clearly the Civil Rights movement made progress, but it feels like only just. We haven’t come that far since. Juneteenth is a good reminder.

I think about this all the time. While we have some diversity in our church, what does our church look like going forward? As begin the discernment process starting this summer, how can we be more inclusive, more diverse? How can we be better? What steps could we, should we, be taking? 

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King is well-known for saying: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”

Let’s be thinking and praying on what kind of friends we are. 
There’s so much we can do. 
We cannot be silent!

Grace and peace,
Scott

This Sunday is the first day of summer, June 20, and that’s how much sunlight we’re going to have. 15 hours, 5 minutes, 17 seconds. That’s the longest day of the year for us according to the website I checked. At least that’s true for Lebanon since you can’t get “Fairmount” anywhere, and it’s close enough.
 
Saturday is 15:05:16, and the summer Solstice actually happens around 11:30 on Saturday night, but who’s counting? The longest day is Sunday this year. Then the days start getting shorter by significantly growing numbers of seconds.
 
Between now and then, the days grow longer…like, we’ll have almost a minute longer of sunlight by Sunday than we have today.
 
Why do I care about this? Good question!
 
I’m not exactly sure but having been home in Oklahoma this last week—because of where it is in the globe—the days aren’t quite as long there. Like, first light here is around 4:30am this time of year. It’s almost an hour later back home.
 
I guess I think about it because every year around this time, I think “what are we gonna do with all this extra daylight?”
 
What are we gonna do with the extra minute between now and then?
 
I have a crutch phrase I use all the time, “oh it’ll only take two seconds to do that.” But it usually takes longer—just saying.
 
Like—your whole life can change in two seconds, right? A “New York Minute”. So, what’s a New Jersey Minute? Just asking. Just rambling, actually. Still stuck on what to do with that extra minute…
 
How about this?
 
Let’s pray.
Sure, what else?
I mean what else can you accomplish in under a minute?
 
How about a little prayer time? Seriously!
Why not? Even if you only take two seconds...
“Thank you, God. Amen.”
 
C’mon, you can do it. Say it with me…
 
“Thank you, God. Amen.”

Done!
And it only took two seconds.
 
Grace and peace,
Scott
 

​There’s not going to be a blog or a Fairmount Focus next week because I’m taking a few days off and going home to see my Mom & Dad. I haven’t seen them in a year and a half! I haven’t been in Oklahoma in five years. It will feel good to get “home” even for a few days.
 
COVID-19 obviously has kept us all close to home. And New Jersey is my home now. This is my home.
 
2020 was a really long and hard year for us all.
 
A couple of my siblings will be there, too. It will be great to see John and Bonnie. Only my brother Brian will be missing from this trip. The last time we all saw each other was Mom & Dad’s 60th Wedding Anniversary celebration in Denver—early November, 2019. That seems like a lifetime ago!
 
It was.
It was a lifetime ago…
 
I know many of you are going through some of the same things right now. Safely reconnecting with family and hugging each other again. Getting the vaccine. God bless us all!
 
COVID-19 has sucked for me. I’m a hugger! So hard to connect with people in a mask and from 6 feet away. Like you, I’m suffering through it.
 
I do feel like this is the beginning of the end. We’re starting to relax the COVID restrictions as we come to worship together. We’re not checking IDs at the door, but masks are optional in worship now if you’ve been vaccinated and you’re welcome to keep wearing your mask if you are more comfortable with it. No judgement ever, no problem!
 
I understand that our church has always been a “come as you are” place. Thank God! We’re never going to stop broadcasting our worship on Facebook Live or some other digital platform because this is what church looks like now.
 
Nevertheless, come to church this Sunday for Youth Sunday! Our students will be leading most of worship and I look forward to seeing them. I look forward to seeing you.
 
Let’s keep meeting each other wherever and however we can. Wherever and however we come home, Jesus meets us right where we are. Just as we are.
 
Fairmount’s not going anywhere. Come home any time.
 
Grace and peace,
Scott
 

I can’t believe it’s been a year since the tragic murder of George Floyd.
 
I grew up in Tulsa, Oklahoma—and this weekend also marks the 100th anniversary of one of the nation’s worst race riots in our country’s history. Maybe the very worst as it turns out now with the recent discovery of a massive, unmarked gravesite in Tulsa.
 
Memorial Day weekend in Tulsa, 1921. May 31-June 1.
 
A young black man, Dick Rowland, is falsely accused of assaulting a young white girl, Sarah Page, an elevator operator in the Drexel office building. Rumors of his arrest and threat of lynching spark the riot. Hundreds of angry white people, many of whom deputized and armed by the local police, descend upon the Greenwood District, also known at the time as the Black Wall Street.
 
No one really knows how many people died, but it is hundreds. 10,000 black people are  left homeless. Businesses looted and destroyed. The Oklahoma National Guard declares martial law at noon on June 1—the massacre is ended.
 
And the silence begins.
For decades.
 
This entire event is buried from local and state historical accounts. It is not in the history curriculum of the Tulsa Public Schools, not even when I come through in the 70’s. Every attempt is made not just to cover it up, but to ignore it, to hide it.
 
There is an excellent Wikipedia article:
 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tulsa_race_massacre
 
And another from this week’s New York Times:
 
https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/05/24/us/tulsa-race-massacre.html?action=click&module=Top%20Stories&pgtype=Homepage
 
I am fortunate enough to have Eddie Faye Gates as my high school history teacher. Mrs. Gates is Black and has dedicated most of her life to collecting, writing, and teaching about the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921. She was able to collect the oral histories of a number of victims of the riot before they died. She has been nominated for a Pulitzer writing several volumes about the riot. Mrs. Gates turns 87 this year and she taught us everything she could about the riots and the black experience in the United States.
 
It all comes flooding back to me every time there is violence against any person of color other than white.
 
“What hurts one, hurts us all.” This is a quote true of all people of color, and it is true of white folks, too. What hurts one, hurts us all. All of us. All children of God.
 
Please don’t say to yourself “this is not who we are” because this is exactly who we are.
 
George Floyd’s murder may prove to be a significant tipping point in the story of racism in America. The conviction of former Minneapolis police officer Dereck Chauvin on charges of second-degree unintentional murder, third-degree murder, and second-degree manslaughter may not be justice, but it is accountability. Finally.
 
I am ashamed that there are so many other names before George Floyd and after him, too. So many victims and families whose attackers—perpetrators who have not been, nor will be held accountable. So many other names that get forgotten, dismissed, shuffled through the news cycle. Add to them the names of the victims and families of violence against Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders—glaring recent witnesses to the depth and breadth of our problems.
 
We have normalized this and I pray that George Floyd’s legacy be the beginning of the end of this normalcy. I pray that we stop congratulating ourselves about how far we’ve come since the Civil Rights Movement and start owning our systemic racist issues and do our part to root them out. Each one of us.
 
I pray that George Floyd’s legacy and the legacy of each and every one of these victims and families falls on you and me. It’s only been a year, but what have we done about it?
 
Seriously, what would Jesus do?
 
Love God. Love your neighbor.
 
It’s on us to think globally and act locally. It’s on us to be good actors, locally, in our neighborhoods, municipalities, boroughs, and country hollows.
 
The beginning of the end can only start here. Right here. Right now. With you and me.
 
It’s on us.
 
Grace & peace,
Scott

​Do you remember when you learned to swim? Were you afraid of the water? Afraid of deep water?
 
I wasn’t. Not a bit. What an idiot!
 
I think I was about 8. Summer of ’69. Some kid at the neighborhood wading pool teaches me to swim underwater in 3 feet of water and I think I’m on top of the world! I can do anything now! Swimming? I’ve got this!
 
Fast forward, I go visit my grandma in another town and she drops me off at their neighborhood pool (you could do that back in the day). This pool was the bomb! Diving boards, and even a HIGH dive. I was on fire!
 
As soon as she drives away, of course I make a beeline for the high dive. I don’t even bother to get wet first. Just up the steps and here we go!  I’ve always loved this pool! And now, I’m the master of the domain from high atop the HIGH DIVE!
 
I’m sure you sniffed this out. I hit the water in a pretty loud bellyflop and my underwater swimming skill set isn’t going to do much good with the wind knocked out of the me. The lifeguard pulls me out and while my name is Scotty, he doesn’t look anything like Wendy Peffercorn! You’re killing me, Smalls!
 
At least they are cool about it and don’t kick me out of the pool. I spend the rest of the day working on that underwater thing in the shallow end. And everything turns out okay. Grandma picks me up, “So? How’d it go?” I lie, of course. She would never let me go back!
 
I got grounded. Not by Grandma, not that kind of grounded, but I got grounded, for sure.
 
I hope we all have a yearning for the deep end. For the challenge. For adventure.
 
But I also wonder if we look to God to guide us there. Do we wait for the Spirit to show up? Do we wait for Jesus to lead us?
 
Or do we just head for the high dive in the deep end?
 
I’m reminded of all of this from one little line in a prayer by John Philip Newell that I read yesterday morning. It’s not even really directly related, but it sent my mind spinning off…yes, maybe into what is deepest.

For everything that emerges from the earth
thanks be to you, O God.
Holy Root of being
Sacred Sap that rises
Full-bodied Fragrance of earth’s unfolding form.
May we know that we are of You
may we know that we are in You
may we know that we are on with You
Together one.
Guide us as nations to what is deepest
Open us as peoples to what is first
Lead us as a world to what is dearest
that we may know the holiness of wholeness
that we may learn the strength of humility
that together we may live close to the earth
and grow in grounded glory.
 
--J. Philip Newell in Praying with the Earth

​If you’re interested, I’m happy to loan you my copy of the book. Mask up, and stop by the office any time.
 
C’mon in, the water’s fine!
 
Grace and Peace,
Scott

Welcome to end of the high Holy Month of Ramadan. I’ll never forget my first Ramadan Iftar. I was invited to the breaking of the fast with a friend from college and his Muslim community at Oklahoma State back in the day. So much fun! And great food! Good times!
 
Wednesday (May 12) at sunset, the Holy Month of Ramadan ends. The holiday in the 9th month of the Islamic calendar. Like our Easter and Lent, the date moves around because their calendar is 11 days shorter than ours.
 
It’s similar in a lot of ways to Lent but their traditions are stricter than ours. For example, for our fast we “give up something for Lent” to be reminded of Jesus’ fasting in the desert for his 40 days.
 
The Islamic fast is every day, and no food or drink of any kind from sunrise to sunset for the 29 or 30 days of Ramadan. Every day! The symbolism of the fast allows them to understand the suffering of others. They spend their time (just as we might in Lent) focused on Spiritual reflection, prayer, good deeds, time with family and friends, and reading the Qur’an.
 
They wake with the “Suhoor” or morning meal before sunrise. Then, fast all day and break the fast after sunset with the “Iftar” meal. Two meals a day for a month. Typically, the Iftar is a time to celebrate with friends and family and community which they often do during the holiday.
 
There are exemptions to the fasting ritual. It’s obligatory but there’s slack for children and the elderly, those who are sick, women who are pregnant or nursing babies, and if you’re traveling a long distance. If you’re sick during Ramadan, you’re obligated to make up the fasting at later time.
 
Just like our Lent, Ramadan is a time for Muslims to commit themselves to their faith and more to God.
 
The end of the holiday comes at first sight of the new moon in the sky—just like Easter is the first Sunday after the full moon after the Spring Equinox. And, Muslims all over the world observe the end of Ramadan with a big festival called Eid al-Ritr—“The Breaking of the Fast.” Family and friends gather to thank Allah (God) for the blessing, support, and strength during the month of fasting. The custom is to give alms at Eid, that is: donate to the poor and those in the margins.
 
If you have any Muslim friends, wish them a happy break to the fast. It’s been a tough, long month for them. They get up early to eat before first light, they skip lunch every day, and no dinner until after sunset. It’s way more intense than Lent, for sure!
 
*Eid Mubarak,
Scott
 
*Happy Eid!

Cinco de Mayo is one of those holidays blown up by beer companies to sell Mexican beer and food. It’s not like a big national holiday in Mexico. It’s not like Mexican independence from Spain which comes on September 16, 1810. 16 de Septiembre is as big of a day for Mexico as the 4th of July for the USA.
 
Almost 20 years ago, I worked at a Mexican radio station selling advertising and I learned a lot more about the culture than I did in Spanish class back in school. The 5th of May is the anniversary of the Mexican Army’s victory over French forces during a skirmish in 1862 in the state of Puebla. The holiday is still celebrated in Mexico, but mostly in Puebla—not so much everywhere else. My Mexican co-workers were happy to tell me that Cinco de Mayo in the USA is all about selling beer and food to the blancos.
 
I can’t believe all that time has passed.
 
Time flies! Even in COVID-19, the time has passed so fast! Last year at this time we were in full-on lockdown! We weren’t even worshipping in person anymore. The bars and restaurants were closed except for take-out. You couldn’t find toilet paper anywhere. We were making our own masks. The virus was raging! People were dying. So much loss and little did we understand, there was so much more to come.
 
Yet here we are, a year later, looking at opening the Sanctuary again for church this weekend and celebrating another holiday created by American business—nevertheless, a nice holiday to recognize—Mother’s Day! And maybe with the declining COVID numbers and increased vaccinations, we’re going to be celebrating Mother’s Day more like we usually do. Bring it on!
 
I read something this week in one of my ham radio publications that was buried in the midst of a technical article on the electronics of a piece of gear. But the author (who is a retired minister from the UK it turns out…) talks about the Greek two-fold understanding of time.
 
Chronos, or chronology, which is a basic linear sequential understanding of time: one thing happens, and then the next, and the next, and so on as time passes.
 
Kairos, on the other hand, is the opportune nature of time. Think of kairos like good timing for action, or the sense of time we lose track of when we’re caught up in the moments. We’re having a good time, or having a good conversation, or into a book or movies or series we’re binge-watching. That is when we lose track of time.
 
So, I love to write, I love to read, and I especially love to read good writing. And when I read good writing, I notice that I feel the Kairos sense of time. Time flies. I get lost in the moments. I lose track of time.
 
No doubt, even as the moments of COVID lock-down kept dragging by through the tragedies of our losses, missed birthdays, family holiday traditions interrupted, hugs not given—as horrible as all that is—even as we’ve lost track of the time—I pray that we can remember the chronology.
 
I pray that we remember what it feels like in the moments. Grief, sorrow, frustration, anger, little victories like finding hand wipes on the shelf, recognition of all the things we take for granted. Yes, time flies. And we get lost in the moments. We lose track of time. And I pray that we remember the chronology even in the Kairos.
 
Whatever it feels like.
 
Reminds me of the Counting Crows song, “Long December:”
 
…It's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass.
 
This Sunday feels like a new beginning. A new marker. The beginning of the end.
 
I’m excited for another Cinco de Mayo, another Mother’s Day, another Sunday. And another, and another, and another.
 
Let’s hold on to these moments as they pass because there’s reason to believe that maybe this year will be better than the last.
 
It just has to be.
 
Grace and peace,
Scott

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had this conversation lately.
 
Commute—(15 second walk to the desk). Zoom all day. Commute. Answer email until late. Sleep (hopefully). Repeat.
Weekends: Crazy too—non-stop, masked-up, still over-programmed, kids/grandkids sports, drama, dance, music—all from a social distance.
And church. Church? Sure, Facebook Live! Yeah, I know, right? One more thing.
 
It never ends.
 
I watched the movie Sound of Metal over the weekend. It’s a great movie. It was up for the Best Picture Oscar won by Nomadland (a worthy winner!) and it’s about a heavy metal rock drummer who loses his hearing and worries about losing his life because of it.
 
One of his teachers tries to get him to embrace his deafness and learn to just “sit.” He says that when you can just sit in the silence, you discover the kingdom of God. Wow!
 
Makes me wonder--
When was the last time you really unplugged?
Like really unplugged.
Turn off the phone. Radio silence. Go dark. No technology.
Nothing.
 
Solitude.
 
It’s one of the Spiritual Disciplines in Richard Foster’s book The Celebration of Discipline. This book is a classic. He gives us a number of Disciplines to try—things to bring clarity to this crazy jacked-up existence. Prayer, Fasting, Meditation, Study, Simplicity, Submission, Service, Confession, Worship, Guidance, Celebration are all chapter headings and good ideas for capturing the Spirit in and around our daily lives. And Solitude is one, too.
 
Solitude.
 
Sit. Be. Repeat.
 
Imagine several days of that!
Full-on hermetic, monastic, cloistral life.
Even for a few hours.
 
Maybe it sounds boring.
Maybe it sounds selfish.
Maybe it sounds divine!
 
Maybe we can capture a moment here or there. I know a lady who can’t find space to be alone except in the coat closet at home. It’s dark, it’s quiet, it’s perfect.
 
If you can’t carve out a few days, maybe you can carve out a few moments. Combine a little solitude with meditation, with prayer.
 
Try this from Thich Nhat Hanh*—use only as directed.
 
Breathing in, I calm my body,
Breathing out, I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment,
I know this is a wonderful moment!
 
Breath in.
Breath out.
Repeat.
 
Again.
 
Again.
 
Again.
 
Again.
 
You’re welcome…
 
Grace & Peace,
Scott
 
Peace Is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life by Thich Nhat Hanh, Bantam, 1991.
 
Richard Foster, The Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth, HarperOne, 2018.
 

​Psalm 23 comes up in the Revised Common Lectionary cycle for church this Sunday. It’s a classic. They’re all classic, but #23 may be the best-known of the Psalms.
 
You may know this trick. Grab any Judeo-Christian Bible. Put your fingers in the middle of the pages in the book and open it. Chances are high, like almost 100%, that you will open the Bible to the Psalms. Right in the middle of the book.
 
Sure, it’s a cute little parlor trick, but it’s also nice to know. The Psalms are ancient songs, poems, laments, petitions, praises, amazing prayers—all ways to talk to God. And all ways to listen for God. It’s kind of like a prayer app. Open to the middle and seek God through the Psalms.
 
Psalm 23 is classic.
 
Sunday School kids for generations have been taught to memorize it and know it by heart. I used to be able to recite the King James Version, but I think my old mind has disconnected from that a little bit over the years. Life, new translations, seminary, and the work have all muddied that water.
 
I can muddle through it, but not like when I was 10—back in the day, I had it down.
 
Please forgive the patriarchal language—let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water.  Here’s the New Revised Standard Version:

​A Psalm of David.
1 The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
2     He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
3     he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
    for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
    I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff--
    they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
    my whole life long.

​It works better as poetry if it’s centered, doesn’t it?
It definitely works better as prayer.
Centered.
 
That’s what we do when we pray. Center ourselves in God.
 
I’m asking you to read it again, and center yourself here:

​What does it look like when
“goodness and mercy follow me”?

​I’m just gonna leave it all right here in the middle.  
 
Grace & Peace,
Scott

So, I chuckle as I write that title out because this probably isn’t going in the direction you’re assuming. Not even close. Heaven? Or Hell?
 
Presbyterians. One of the things we don’t do very well, and have never done very well, is talk about our spirituality. We always kinda cache our spirituality in really vague terms. Even when it comes to prayer—the most basic of Christian practices. It’s just not that often you’ll hear someone say, “I need to pray about that.” Or, “I have been praying about…” In practice, it happens for sure. But we don’t hear a lot about it—not that often, anyway.
 
All that said, when it comes to spirituality, I’m actually happy to talk about it. I do talk about it. A lot. It’s kinda my job to talk about it. Promote it. While I’m probably not the gentlest person you know about most things, I do take a gentle approach when it comes to spirituality.
 
I’m sensitive to “Presbyterian spirituality” which is very chill in most cases. It’s so chill that most Presbyterians can bristle at the first blush. This is one of those things you learn early as a Presbyterian minister. You don’t be shy about it, but you gotta be chill about it.
 
And personally, I have a pastor’s sense and care for my own spirituality, for my practices. I have shared before that I have a daily routine. Never fails. Every day. Time with God. It’s how I start my day. Quiet time. I pray for you. I pray for our church. Every. Day. I read the Daily Lectionary Bible verses. Phyllis Tickle. J. Phillip Newell. And I read Richard Rohr.
 
Fr. Richard Rohr is a highly progressive Franciscan priest and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico. If you read any progressive theological articles or books at all, Richard Rohr is often quoted and a highly sought-after conversation partner. Only within the last 4-5 years, I learned he does a daily devotional and I LOVE HIM! Turns out, a number of my colleagues across the denominational lines love him, too.
 
So—he pushes my buttons all the time and a few years ago, he ran a whole series on Heaven and Hell. I have, for at least a decade, theologically agreed with him on the entire concept of Heaven and Hell and it’s simply this:
 
Heaven and Hell aren’t places. They are states. Present current states. Heaven and Hell are here and now. In this life, on this Earth, in our lives. Always in all ways.
 
Here are a couple broad strokes at it:
 
Heaven is heartfelt and found in and among the peaks of light living life as a follower of Jesus Christ. Loving others unconditionally as Jesus loves us. Building community and taking care of our neighbors as described in the early church by actions of the Holy Spirit (in the book of Acts).
 
Hell, on the other hand, is also heartfelt and found in and among the valleys of darkness that surround us. Evil. Heinous acts. Tough times. Hard life events. Loss. Depression. All that is Hell, obviously.
 
Heaven and Hell. Sometimes they are of our own making!
 
Okay, that’s plenty enough to make your brain hurt.
 
Right?
 
A few years ago, RR quotes a poet David Whyte, from the collection Fire in the Earth (Many Rivers Press: 2002).
 
Take a moment and read this—giving yourself pause. Like, read it and sit in the Mystery for a while. Just sit and be. Wow!
 
“The Old Wild Place”
 
After the good earth
where the body knows itself to be real
and the mad flight
where it gives itself to the world,
we give ourselves to the rhythm of love
leaving the breath
to know its way home.
 
And after the first pure fall,
the last letting go, and the calm
breath where we go to rest,
we’ll return again to find it
and feel again the body welcomed,
the body held,
the strong arms of the world,
the water, the waking at dawn
and the thankful, almost forgotten,
curling to sleep with the dark.
 
The old wild place beyond all shame. 
 
Just sit with that for a while.
 
You’re welcome!
 
Grace & Peace,
Scott