If they say no you can't-shock them

Interestingly the last one was recorded three times...

Mark tells us today about the the healing of the blind man on the road to Jericho.  Mark actually gave him a name - Bartimaeus.  Some many who were healed were  nameless.  This healing is so important all three synoptics record it.  He was in a hurry again...He was on the road to Jericho...an interesting town...the walls fell down...a prostitute hid spies and thereby saving her whole  family...It is on the way to Jerusalem.  His destination.  This is his last miracle recorded before the Passion.  And it involved of all things: blindness. 

I imagine that blindness would not have been my top choice for healings if I were a healer.  I think I would have driven out alot of demons into pigs.  I think I would have cured a lot of leprosy, given my own  susceptibility to horrid poison ivy and various rashes and skin disorders of all kinds.  And while it is not a healing miracle, I am sure I would changed a lot of water into wine.  Like maybe the whole sea of Galilee.  Just saying.  Apparently he made great wine.   But blindness had a special place in his heart.  I am  not sure he thought much about making a metaphorical point to the disciples that day.  He had Jerusalem on his mind.   I am not sure he thought much about making a point that an entire nation had missed seeing him. He knew they already had and he had Jerusalem on his mind.  I am not sure he thought much about trying to prophetically point out the Temple's spiritual blindness. They seemed to be a lost cause as all systems of power and establishment tend to be.  They usually have to collapse first before they begin to see.  Personally,  I think he just wanted Bartimeaus to see the trees. 

Bartimaeus apparently was just hanging out on the road to Jericho.  Just begging.  It is what the blind did.  They begged.  But he wasn't any ordinary blind person seeking healing. His name  meant son of a blind man. Kind of hard to live above a name like that.  I am sure he had been told over and over Jesus couldn't do it or wouldn't do it.  I am sure he had been told over and over, "Look dude it just ain't happening for you.  There are far other greater concerns Jesus has.  After all he is trying to get this whole messiah thing off the ground." In fact the crowd was rebuking them that day.   He had been blind his entire life.  Many artists render him as old.  What was old back then? 33?  At any rate, he could not see and had never seen and had been told over and over he would never see. 

Obviously, he did not believe that.  It is probably the most important point of the story.  He did not believe he was the person others told him was.  He did not define himself by others.  Apparently he yelled loud too.  Apparently just like my voice at ballgames, it could be heard over the masses. Apparently  he was trying to prove a point.  And I try to do that at ballgames too..you know prove a point...usually to the umpires but sometimes I have been known to get frustrated at the crowd.  Davis tells me just to be mad at them in my head and not say anything. He says actions speak louder in words and in baseball he has a point.

He demanded it,  "Jesus, son of David have mercy on me."  He said it more than  once. And often I wonder just how long did he wait on Jesus to come by?  Does it matter really how long you wait for your miracle? Does it matter really  how long you believe in your best self?  Does it matter really how long it takes to get to the other side just as long as you do?  And that is just what Bartimaeus did.  He stayed the course.  When everyone said he could not or it would not happen, he just shocked them.  He just shocked them.  It is the easiest way to prove who you really are.  Just shock them.  Faith in God probably does not get you very far if you don't have faith in yourself.

And Jesus moved by his faith did what Jesus did best...made him see....

I often wonder how often I give into the no.  I often wonder and pray I am teaching my son never  give in...just shock them.  You don't need to do anything else...just continue forward in the journey...Don't stop...Don't let them define you...Don't let the world say you can't...

JUST SHOCK THEM.

Grateful for seeing all the budding trees today...

Kathleen

PS I am also seriously considering linking this to the folks I know I have just plain shocked.  But I think that might lapse into that whole revenge thing.  But  I am thinking. 

You Do You

I just love Peter.  I really do.  He is so unashamedly human.  And he is so defensive.  And he is so ready to take on a fight even if it is with Jesus. He is so much like me I just laugh out loud when I re read his stories.  Apparently in today's gospel reading, Jesus was taking a day trip.  Don't you just love day trips?  I took one yesterday to Stratford Road.  Spent the morning at a garden (more next week on how it really all began and ended in a garden). 

So Jesus and company are on a day trip, I am sure Mark's gospel tells us where they were running off to, but to be honest I didn't read that far.  I pretty much stick to the daily gospel reading and don't delve much further.  I have found that keeps my head full enough and gives my heart more than enough to dwell on.  So I don't know where they were going, but I do know what happened on the trip.  This dude runs (the gospel says he ran...good to know...since rarely do I ever find myself running up to God...I am more the kind who waits for God to bop me on top of the head), and he asks Jesus a question.  Clearly this guy thought Jesus would have the answer given that  he chased him down and all.  Or maybe and I suspect this be the case, he was so hoping GOD would agree with his answer.  And why are like that?  Why do we assault God with our questions in prayer hoping he will agree with us?  It has been my experience that in those instances God rarely does.   Ann Lamott said, "It is safe to assume you have created God in your own image when God hates all the same people you do."  How true.  How true.

Another good point from today's lesson is this...the next time you ask God a question and demand an answer make sure you are ready to hear it.  Chances are if you are really honest, you are not.  So this dude wants to know what it takes to be saved?  I am guessing, judging from his response, he thought he was.  Funny thing about salvation...it is not just a moment in time.  And here is where my Wesley scholar friend could help explain that very complex theology but for today I am keeping it simple.  It is best to realize that every moment you are being saved again and again and it is best to keep in mind what exactly is saving you and from what you are being saved.  Clearly this dude was a little cloudy about the whole deal.  Personally, I am the kind of character that needs saving again and again and again and again...and generally speaking it is saving from myself that I need saving from and isn't it great that God specializes in just that.  Saving us from ourselves.  True be told we would pretty much would be lost permanently if left to our own devices...and thank God, God does not. 

Jesus had a lot of different answers about the question regarding salvation.  Usually the answers boiled down to two, maybe three things...PRAY...GIVE AWAY YOUR MONEY...BE KIND...It just really doesn't take a whole lot to please Jesus, but like alot of us most of the time, this dude got hung up on one of the three.  Mark tells he  prayed and was a pretty nice guy...his problem...he didn't want to give up his money.  Truth be told I am so glad Jesus has not asked me yet to give up my white blouses or nice Italian leather shoes or manicures because on days like today...I would probably run away grieving too...just like that dude...he ran away....I have often wondered did he ever come back?  I suspect he did.  We usually find our way back when we have made such a mess of things that we come running back.  And isn't neat how Jesus usually just says this..."OK...you have made a mess...Now clean it up and come inside and have milk and cookies."

What made me laugh out loud about this story in Mark's gospel (and by the way, I think next year we get to read John and I like that story so much more...), is Peter.  Peter always makes me laugh. I can always count on Peter for a good laugh.  Peter pretty much gets in Jesus's face and says, "Now look, why are you telling us this again?  We get it.  WE GAVE UP EVERYTHING TO FOLLOW YOU."  And here is where I think Jesus gives one of the best lessons..."Peter, I am not talking about you. This is not your highlight reel.  I am saving that for hurricanes, fishing disasters and early morning rooster calls." 

And here is an important life lesson to remember and write it down and say it to yourself every day....more than once if necessary...Rarely and I mean very rarely is it about you.  And never are some one's mistakes about you.  Never.  Jesus basically tells Peter..."Peter how about YOU do YOU and not worry about anyone else.  Believe me Peter that alone will keep your hands full." 

Praying that for at least the next eight hours I only try to do me...that is a job in itself...

Kathleen

The Way We Were (and need to be again)...

"Before we had stifled the cross into a symbol, before we have softened grace into a sentiment, before we had systematized power and the mystery of God's greatest revelation of Himself into a set a dogmas, were children..." - Rich Mullins

And we need to become children again...

And don't you remember when we were those kids?  We believed every stable was sacred because Christ had been born in a stable... and every star we saw shining in the night sky was that star...and every bush could burst into flames at any moment...and giants could be slayed with five little rocks...and there was always more than enough bread to share...always 12 loaves left over...and we loved hugs because Jesus did...and lilies were our favorite flower and we loved picking the flower heads right off and carrying them into the house to Mom...and the trees had hands to clap and the mountains had voices...and angels really sang and we could hear it and sing with right along...and love was irrepressible...and we cut and pasted for the sheer joy of it...and we made mud pies because He could make people see with just spit and mud...and we ran for the love of running and we laughed so hard till our sides hurt...and we got scared and we saw the world as a REAL place full of REAL dangers, with REAL beauty and REAL rights and wrongs...and we prayed powerful, profound prayers...

Prayers so direct and wonderfully candid and we are embarrassed now when we remember them...we knew they went straight to God and we gave in to faith...when we were little...we knew we could meet God and Jesus was in our hearts...and we didn't understand, but we do not understand it anymore now than we did then..and then we grew up and...

We became big and heavy with thinking and burdened with worry  and we gave into doubt and dreariness and we rose above our own understanding and we learned to be afraid of ourselves...

So if the we believe the cross (and thank God it is) to be more than symbol...if we believe God's grace is more than sentimentality (and it is)...and we if believe God is not the product of some human imagination (and God is not)... then what choice do we have but to become kids again...

To see every star as a promises already fulfilled...to see every stable as a temple...to see every flower as guarantees that we do not need to worry...to see the birds as evidence that all are needs are already met...to know we are beloved children of God...to run hard...to laugh long..to dance because God delights in dancing...to give ourselves over to faith...and we will have come home again to the God's Kingdom and we will know it is our home and we will know that God delights in us...and we will be those children once more...

"of such is the Kingdom of Heaven..."

Grateful today for Grace  in every moment...  in sharing jellybeans with little boys...in hugging boys after ballgames...in walking in gardens...and eating lunch outside...in the sunshine...in the blooming dogwoods...in the flowers that are dancing...in the trees clapping their hands...it is all grace...

Kathleen

Pray Me Home

When they drove up...you could almost see the prayers. Almost touch them.  As we porch sat, beach walked, WORD shared, talked, laughed (and blessed G.), cried, slept, ate, stretched, played, ate more, laughed more, colored, cut, pasted, ate more, laughed more, WORD shared more, sang, WORD shared more,  you could touch the prayers...and I never knew this till now...

you can be prayed home...you can be prayed home...and thank goodness friends will pray you home...mothers will pray you home...sisters will pray you home...stangers will pray you home and here's the rub...home might not be where you thought it was or used to be or want it to be...but thank God...

You can be prayed home...just make sure you realize when you get there...and stay for a bit...stay for a bit..

Laying on a song

We all brought something.  Well,  mostly I just waited for everyone to get there so I could eat. She came in carrying the Word under that bright blue sky kissed by sunshine. She came in carrying Pilates Mats and Mexican Trains and arms full of hugs for everyone.  She also had so tootsie pops and Twizzlers.   She came with a wounded eye, her sense of humor and her loving presence but mostly she brought the song.  She brought the song.

It was Sunday morning.  Our last morning of our women's fellowship retreat.  It was epic.  That all I can of thinkof to say.  It was epic. My son would be so proud of me using the word epic in the vernacular.  We were gathering for porch church and invited the couple across the street, but I think they thought we were going to have an offering, so they declined.  We were going to have an offering just not the kind where they scan your twenties.  (One of the many, many useful things I learned this weekend is that this is apparently a common practice at CVS at Christmas).

She brought the song.  She carried that song in her heart all the way from her roots in the mountains of NC.  I did not knowshe was a song carrier.  But I do now. 

My daddy was a member of a southern gospel quartet and he said when you laid on a song,  you gathered around the bed of the sick or depressed and you sang to them.  Those lovely soulful songs. Those old spirituals with very simple melodies and complex harmonies. He said it healed them. My dad said you sang loud and you sang with your heart.  He hoped you would sign all four verses. He also hoped you could carry a tune but he often said that God didn't really care if you could or not,  God just plain liked singing.  Very loud singing.  

My dad loved to sing.  He knew all the verses in the church hymnal and all the tunes.  He knew every single one of them.  You just never knew which words to which tune he might choose to sing.  You might be singing Precious Lord, Take My Hand and change in the middle to Just Closer Walk to Thee.  One time in church, he was leading the singing, and we started out signing Guide Me Thou O Great Jehovah, and somewhere along the third verse we started singing Saviour Like a Shepherd Lead Us. He made up some words. He sang lead with his quartet, so you can just imagine.  He said it was fine if you forgot words and just starting humming in the middle and pick up when the words came to you.  It didn't matter much to my dad as long as that song was sung well and loud, very loud with all your heart.  Daddy also had some very peculiar, strong feelings about what to do with hymnals but that is another story for another day.  Oh, I forgot to mention.  My dad was the worship leader in church when I was growing up.  Daddy would also make the congregation do repeats if we didn't sing loud or well enough.  He would stand up and say, "Church, we gotta redo that one."

At porch church Sunday morning, she brought her song and when it was all sung and done..we had laid on a song...I mean we had really laid on a song...The birds were singing, the clouds swaying, the sunshine bursting, the skies so blue it could pop.  It was a beautiful, glorious day. (And right here, right now, thanks to Dad I am humming the hymn- O Glorious Day).

She opened with song.  "Pass Me  Not O Gentle Saviour."  She brought the melody and the harmony.  I just brought loud. We nailed it .  We sung it so well the birds shut up.  The dogs quit barking.  The clouds swayed.  The sun shone brighter.  The wind applauded and the trees and flowers stood taller.  The ocean clapped with waves.  That's how good it was.  We nailed it.  We laid on a song.

 I am a daughter after her father's own heart and he taught me to sing loud.  I never did quite learn to sing as well or as pretty as Dad.  In fact, I can't carry a tune and sing very flat on any given occasion.  Daddy always wondered how he raised a tone deaf child.  I think the song carrier learned that when she said, "You sing loud."  It made me laugh so very, very hard.  Yep.  I sing loud.  Yep.  I sing all four verses even if I make them up.  Yep. Daddy would have been proud of  porch church and I  wish Daddy could have heard the song carrier and the others.  I wish he could have. 

The song carrier blessed me beyond measure at porch church, Sunday.  Jesus could not have passed us by that morning.  Nope. No way.  I am convinced God stood still that morning and said..."now that...that... is what I call laying on a song".  And I think all the angels in heaven stopped their singing just to hear the song carrier and the rest of us. I think the only thing they said was..."Yes and Amen! We can't wait for the song carrier and her friends to join us.  (Even the loud one). But we are thinking that for now...for now...the song carrier and her friends need to hang out on porches and every  once in a while lay on a song....lay on a song..."

Yes and amen my friends...be grateful for singing and always sing extra loud and always sing an extra verse or two..even if you are making it up as you go along....and never be afraid to sing on porches and invite the neighbors...

Kathleen

The most courageous thing you will ever do...and it will determine how you live...

Three words.  Just three.  And it will be the most courageous thing you will ever do...and it will determine how you live or not...

And they are hard words to say much less mean.  And only the courageous say them.  Only the people of character and strength and integrity ever utter those words.  Ever. Wars can be ended with those words.  Miracles happen with those words.  Life begins with these words.  The only words that ever, ever matter are the ones we live. 

Things didn't start off so well this morning.  Just did not.  And it is ok when your morning does not begin well as long as the day ends well. 

He has the mark of greatness and the humility that always underscores it.  He has integrity.  A character trait that has little value in today's culture.  He knows the miracle is not whether or not you fly in the air, but to walk gently on the earth.  Just walk.

He knows breathing always comes first. 

He knows that being your authentic self is the only way to really live.  Being someone else or atttempting to live up to someone's expectations or standards will always fail miserably.

He knows that we are all in this together for better or worse and shouldn't we just try to make it better.

He knows that living better always trumps living bitter.

He knows it is best to make friends with yourself, live in your own skin, fight your own demons intead of fighting everyone elses. 

He has learned to live fear from the terror of the ghosts of  the "what if's" and "if only's"

And he knows courage and he knows that the war we really fight is in our own souls...

He walks upright...he walks with humbly and he loves mercy...he loves mercy...

And he told me, "I am sorry..."

The three most powerful words in the English language are I am sorry...not I love you...for you can not even say love without being willing to say "I am sorry.." 
And yet we hardly ever utter them sincerely..ever..

But he does.  He does.  And he means it when he does.  He says the most powerful words on the planet...

And I will never forget.  And I am honored to know him. 

And those words cover a mulitude of sins...in fact...covers them all...

Thank you for challenging me and reminding me and blessing me and honoring me with the three most powerful words...

May we all never forget to say them....

All is grace and don't I have the coolest friends on the planet?

Kathleen

What I am WIlling to Do for Chocolate

To be very honest, I don't know if I go to get the eggs or just to see what obstacle will face me at the front door.  The eggs are to die for and I usually starting thinking about them the first of February.  And about the second week, I start planning my strategy on how to obtain these southern culinary delights.  If you have ever lived in Kernersville or have known anyone that has, you know exactly what I am talking about.  Once you have had one, you never forget. 

It is a small church in the middle of Kernersville.  I do not know anyone personally who attends there and come to think of it, that is very weird.  I probably know at least one person who attends every church Kernersville, either because I personally know you, my husband knows you or I have taken care of you or a family member or my daddy or mother in law knows you. Kernersville is just that kind of town. 

I have never gotten past the fellowship hall.  NEVER. I think they have a sanctuary but I am really not sure. And  I am starting to think they might sacrifice chickens or something in there or at least handle snakes.  The fellowship hall is your typical small church fellowship hall with a small church kitchen.  If you are from the South, you know what I am talking about.  And personally, my interactions make me think that perhaps the preacher should do just a little more preaching on that whole fellowship concept.  Just saying. 

It all begins Ash Wednesday.  The eggs.  Last year they made 80,000.  I was told this year it would be closer to 87,000.  These confections are about the size of your fist.  Two flavors: peanut butter or coconut.  Hand rolled.  Hand dipped.  Hand wrapped.  These eggs are so famous, they were featured on the cover of North Carolina State magazine last Easter. 

Easter is big in North Carolina, particularly Forsyth county.  The Moravians claim they celebrate it the best and the sunrise service at God's Acre can not be beat.  But nobody can beat these eggs.  Nobody.  I am told the recipe is a tightly guarded secret.  They can't tell you the recipe 'cuz then they would have to shoot you.  And shoot you they would, on the spot, without blinking an eye. Even my mother in law doesn't know the recipe and she knows every single secret worth sharing in Kernersville.  That woman amazes me.  I love  these eggs so much, I have seriously considered hiring my own Black Ops team to storm the building and steal the recipe for me. To be   perfectlyy honest though, I am not sure a Black Ops team would make in and out of the building without suffering mass causalities.  I know on a couple of occasions I didn't know if I was coming out alive. 

Getting to those eggs is something of Herculean feat.  And now that I think of it, Lent is the season of pain and suffering, and spiritual journeying, so maybe there is a metaphor here.  In my lifetime, I am guessing I purchased at least 250 dozen. At least

As soon as you hit the church parking lot you can smell the chocolate.  There is this lovely large wooden painted Easter Egg sign on the front lawn of the church that reads: Eggs are Here!.  Now that I think about it, that egg sign is bigger than the cross out front.  Just saying.

When they first starting making these eggs you could just drop by and buy them.  These really nice people put them in nice white bags and smiled at you.  Things have changed.  Boy have they changed. 

So about 10 years ago, I had made about three trips to buy eggs.  It was Maundy Thrus and  I needed a few more.  The Egg sign was still out.  I pulled into the church parking lot and walked in.  I could see about 50  boxes of eggs.  I asked if I could buy a dozen.  The keeper of the eggs said that they stopped selling eggs on Palm Sunday.  Oh.  I apologized and stared past her at those eggs. She reluctantly gave in and sold me a dozen but chastised me for being late.  She asked me if I realized it was Holy Week?  Yep. She did.  I am not sure of the liturgical significance of these chocolate covered eggs but apparently God does not want you to eat them during Holy Week.

So about 5 ears ago, I dropped by and asked to buy some eggs.  Now mind you, when you walk in, there are table after table of eggs in various preparation stages.  Thousands of eggs.  And the egg makers are hard at work making more.  They make eggs from 9 to 12 every day and wrap eggs from 1 to 4 every day except weekends. 

So I walk in and ask to buy 16 dozen eggs.  The egg lady said, "did you call your order in?"   I said, "No."  She said, "Well if you want more than a dozen you have to call your order in."   I said, "Can I give it to you now and I will come back?"  She said in a not very friendly voice, "No, I will sell you some today, just remember the rule for next year." OK. 

So next year, I call ahead and order about 14 dozen.  Left my order with the not so very nice phone person.  I show up that afternoon only to learn that if you call an order in...it won't be ready till the next day...but since I was there..they would make an exception.  But I was instructed very firmly, and not so nicely by the egg policewoman at the front door, not to drop in at the church fellowship hall without an appointment. I muttered under my breath, well can I come to pray?  Who heard of having to have permission to go to a church?  

So the next year, I call ahead and confirm my pick up day with the instructions that if I did not show up within 24 hours of ordering, my eggs would be returned to the general egg population.  And being so addicted to these eggs, you better believe I was there on time and I thought, this year, this year I will not be called out for some mysterious egg infraction.  And you are so not going to believe this.  I walk in, ask the egg Nazi for my order and she inquires, "did you fill out the on line form, because you are suppose to fill out the on line form for all large orders."  I told her I just called ahead to the church office and they did not inform of the web based ordering system.  She begrudgingly gave me eggs. Rolled her eyes at me. By the way, my egg order was sitting there with my name on it, ready for pick up.

So the following the year, I thought I am up to the test.  I am going to cover every base.  I called ahead.  I arranged my pickup time.  I place the online order.  I arrive at 1202pm.  The egg controller is about to lock the door.  Well, actually she locked the door as I was getting out of my car waving at her ( I was actually smiling and waving) and yes she was looking me dead in the eye.  She opens the door.  She informs me that egg pick up time is from 9 am to 12 noon and they break for lunch (in the fellowship hall with all the eggs) from 12 pm to 1 pm and then they re open for business. Oh. I told her I was not aware of the pick up times and I would just come back in an hour.  I need to mention here that pick up times were not mentioned on the web based order system, not on the larger than a small pasture ornament egg sign sitting right next to the cross on the church front lawn, and the sign on the fellowship hall door that listed operating hours was about 8 by 10 inches with 10 point font.  Seriously.  I needed my reading glasses just to read it.  Gave a whole new meaning to fine print.  She saw my hospice name tag and told me she would go ahead and give me my eggs but to remember next time.  And yes my eggs were in a bag with my name on them and I brought the correct cash. 

So the next year, I am determined to get this right.  Determined.  It is now become not so much about those eggs, but the fight to get them. I have turned this into some type of Lenten act of suffering.  Suffering over obtaining very large quantities of chocolate and peanut butter and coconut. Yep.   I am determined to make these people be nice to me. Need I mention not one has invited me to church yet?  Not that I would go, but I just find it odd.  I am a large volume, frequent, loyal customer.  So I call my egg order in, fill out the web based form, commit to a pick up time, literally drive by the night before pre arranged pick up to double check the fine print on the door.

I go in.  All dressed up in my adult clothes.  I have my pearls on.  My very nice Italian loafers.  My best white blouse and my favorite pink sweater.  My best spring lipstick. I request my pre-approved, prepaid, prearranged pick up order AND you are SO not going to believe this...She asked if I need bags for my 20 dozen eggs and did I want them separated?. Because if I wanted them separated and put in bags, she was going to have to count.  I stood there wondering didn't they have to be counted anyway?  I told her I guess I could carry them out in my arms, but it would take a few trips.  Reluctantly she throw them in a box.  And this time I couldn't resist.  I smiled my biggest southern smile and said "BLESS YOUR HEART."  Now any self respecting southerner knows that we only result to that phrase when we really want to say, "Are you @##$ing kidding me?"

So this year I was ready.  I was ready, but I was going to challenge the system just a bit.  I stopped by.  Yep.  I did a drive by.  I wanted an extra 3 dozen I had not prearranged prepaid order. I walk in at 135 pm.  I had cash.  I had a cross on today.  These egg people were sitting at the table wrapping eggs.  I am guessing they were surrounded by about 20,000.  She asks may I help you?  I said I would like to buy some eggs.  She asked the standard protocol of questions and when she learned I wanted extra, she turned to her egg buddies and said., "Can we sell her any eggs?"  They reluctantly said  "I guess so."  They filled my order and ask if I want bags.  I politely turned them down.  Been down that road before.  And then I asked, "So how many eggs did you make this year?" The answer 87000.  I said 87000.  She said yep.  And we are already starting a waiting list.  So you can't have anymore because we stopped taking orders yesterday.  I turned my biggest smile on and said, Bless your heart.  I guess I am just blessed beyond measure that you graciously gave me 36 of the 87000. 

So, I am all done egg hunting this year. I am seriously considering asking the egg lady if prehaps I could volunteer next year for the egg war effort.  I thought about offering a course on how to be nice or prehaps these are the most stressed church people I have ever met and need some relaxation techniques.  Or perhaps they are distantly related to my bad church date.  I do know one thing- those eggs are a slice of heaven if you have to go through hell to get one.