A Survivor’s Interlude

30 06 2010

“The difference between school and life? In school, you’re taught a lesson and then given a test. In life, you’re given a test that teaches you a lesson.

Tom Bodett

I haven’t posted in almost three weeks. In the beginning I was posting two to three times each week. It’s a bit of writer’s block, I suppose. I seem to have said most of what I had wanted to say on this subject, plus my life is in a constant state of flux so I’m in the process of thinking through where I want to go from here with this blog.

Photo by Clint Spencer Photography

There are really only so many ways to say that painful experiences have a profound effect on us, and that there are ways we survive and get through them with a new hope. I’m sure I haven’t exhausted them all, but I’ve covered many of the aspects of survival that I had intended for the encouragement of others.

As I’ve stated, we are all survivors, so hopefully readers have been able to identify with some of what they’ve read here.

I started this blog experiment with an explanation of some of the defense mechanisms we survivors use when life hits us with disappointment, disillusionment, and pain. I did this with the hope that fellow survivors would recognize some of these traits in themselves and take some comfort in knowing that many of us go through similar feelings and behaviors.

I also chronicled just a few of my experiences including the end of my ministerial career and first marriage. I’m still working through all of that and probably will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I will always be a survivor. Although I’d like to think that I’m well on my way to thriving rather than merely surviving, I often find myself slipping back into some of those survival instincts. So, I guess you could say I will always be a work in progress, too.

As I’ve mentioned, I believe I’m in pretty good company, biblically speaking. From Abraham to Jeremiah to David and beyond, God used many flawed individuals. They struggled with life around them, getting angry or depressed at times, but in the end, their faith and hope prevailed. That’s where I’ve been and where I am.

One doesn’t have to look far in this world to find struggles and concerns. But also, faith and hope continually rise above it all for those who seek them. “God is in control” is an unchanging fact of our existence, whether it seems that way all of the time or not. And whether we like what we see at times or not.

I am forever changed by some of the events in my life. Surviving and thriving isn’t always about “getting over it.” Sometimes our way of thinking about things is profoundly changed. And that isn’t all bad. It’s part of the personal “growth” that can result from life’s problems.

M.D. Anderson will be scanning my wife for years to come, always looking to see if there are more concerns to deal with. That’s the thing about cancer; it’s always in the shadows. But, we’ve elected to live our lives in victory, always aware, of course, that the monster might step out of the shadows back into the center of our lives.

Nevertheless, victory is always ahead of us. Always.

That’s what true hope is all about.

What do you think?





Playing Tapes

25 05 2010

“Sometimes I lie awake at night, and ask, ‘Where have I gone wrong?’ Then a voice says to me, ‘This is going to take more than one night.’”

Charlie Brown

Photo by Oytun Karadayl

We all replay some of the things we have been repeatedly told or taught. Some were told as children that they would never amount to anything, or that they were not as good as a brother or sister, or that they just didn’t try hard enough, and so forth. Overcoming this kind of parental misguidance and abuse is difficult and can have lasting consequences for our behavior as adults.

When I was in the ministry, I devoted a great deal of time to helping people overcome the lies they hear in their head. However, as a former preacher and a perpetual survivor, I can tell you with absolute confidence that many well-meaning people act according to “tapes” of “truth” they’ve heard all their lives in church of all places, which simply aren’t true. And when they “preach” these tapes to others, usually more harm than good comes of it.

Although there are many such “tapes,” one in particular comes to mind, mainly because I recently witnessed a version of it. It goes something like this: “If your faith and relationship (walk, fellowship) with God is what it should be, then you won’t experience ______________(depression, anxiety, sin, grief, et al).

Nothing could be farther from the truth. When people in their misguided piety say such things to someone who is suffering, they are adding guilt into an already painful situation.

I think there are at least two reasons why this tape is heard and replayed so much. First, it’s a preaching problem. Preachers in their commendable effort to reach people, to evangelize with the “Good News,” promise Christ as a solution to sin and the problems of life. “Confess, come to Christ and leave your troubles behind you” they promise. So, the tape that is heard is “once you are a Christian, you won’t struggle with sin and things like depression.”

Another reason this tape is heard by so many is a misunderstanding of biblical joy. We are told repeatedly that as people of faith, we have “joy.” And, indeed, Jesus promised us his “joy.”

We tend to automatically associate “joy” with a euphoric feeling, and since depression or worry seem to be the polar opposites of “joy,” a person who is struggling must not have the “joy” he is supposed to have. That, in turn, means something surely must be wrong with his relationship to the giver of joy.

A related tape is this idea that the Christian witness to the world is to show that we are different because we have something others don’t. One major way we are to demonstrate this is by being happy (joyful) in circumstances that would have others in stress or tears. Therefore, in order to be a dutifully good witness for Christ, we try to smile and “be strong” in the face of cancer, the death of a loved one, and so on.

Photo by MBPHOTO, Inc.

This denies people the reality of their feelings as they experience the issues of life. Instead, they try to act and look like the “joyful” tapes they’ve heard even when they don’t feel it. No wonder there is so much dysfunction in many of our churches.

Having said that, there is definitely a peace that people of faith experience in the midst of hard times. But that peace is a calm assurance way down inside that God is ultimately in control, and it does not necessarily mean that we have to act like we have no struggles.

The truth is that it is possible to rejoice in living in the hope and purpose of God without necessarily feeling exuberant over how life is going at present. Christ had joy in the cross, but I doubt he was giddy about it.

Faith is a wonderful yet mysterious thing. It takes you where you couldn’t go otherwise. It provides a sense of hope and purpose about all things, good and bad, which happen to us. Faith is the bridge from surviving to thriving. But it isn’t some sort of magic transport from pain and sorrow to a life that is impervious to tears. [i]

I’ve cried rivers of tears over the years—sin (my own and others), death, hardship, suffering take their toll. I’ve been depressed or angry at times because of the same things. And, frankly, there have been times when those issues affected my “fellowship” with God.

I am human—a flawed one at that. Thanks to men like Abraham, David, and Jeremiah, (to name just a few) biblically I’m in pretty good company. Not so much so in some churches.

It seems that I’ve thrown away the tape player and the mask that goes with it. I won’t be the most popular guy at some church picnics, but I think that’s okay. I’ll be honest about my pain and I believe God is pleased with that… even if a few of his loyal followers aren’t.


[i] Psalm 42:3; Lamentations 3:19; John 11:35





When Does Surviving End?

6 05 2010

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched, but are felt in the heart.”

Helen Keller

(Copied from nurses’ station board at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center, Houston, Texas)

The short answer to the question, “When does surviving end?” is that it never ends. Not completely. However, we can reach a point when we begin moving on with our lives in a positive, healthier manner.

If surviving is a state-of-mind, at what point are we actually moving on? I believe it begins when we start to really care about something or someone besides our own issues and ourselves. Otherwise, we are just going through various shades of surviving. Caring is a huge move up from the self defense mechanisms of surviving.

Consider, however, that it is quite possible to demonstrate some caring behavior out of habit even when we are merely surviving. In other words, caring behavior and actually caring is not necessarily the same thing.

For example, you might give to your favorite charity or the church just as you always have but without that inner spirit of caring. It’s habit or a perceived duty. But, when you are truly touched within to do something outside of yourself and your situation, you are beginning to move on.

The key is a crack in The Fortress wall—a small opening in your defenses that can lead to caring again.

Photo by Ricardo Bissaco

In time, you might actually find that your life is somehow enriched by your experiences rather than constantly burdened by them. Suffering colors our lives with its own distinctive palate. And that’s not all bad. We can become a different person with a different outlook. Perhaps we might give to that favorite charity or even volunteer with a strong new feeling of compassion rather than out of a sense of duty.

I’m not sure this caring—the crack in the wall—is something you can put on your “to do” list and plan for. In fact, it is not something you “do” at all. But when it happens, when you start caring, you can know that God is using your own experiences to do a work within you.

If you’ve been following this blog, you might remember that a turning point for me was when I met someone whose situation shook me out of my personal issues. I knew something was different the minute I was touched by a woman I met who had cancer. Little did I know at the time that she would be my future wife. I had an unexplainable and powerful touch of compassion when I met Jane. For several years, I hadn’t cared much about anything, and suddenly a total stranger with cancer moved me. I wasn’t looking for it. I wasn’t trying to care. But it happened.

Something had changed. I was less defensive and concerned about what I had been through, and more concerned about this new friend and her fight against cancer. For some reason, which I attribute to the work of God, I wanted to go with her in her struggles. The feeling was made more intense as I got to know her and God began to use her to encourage me. Now isn’t that something! Here was a woman with a rare and deadly form of cancer encouraging me.

I’ll confess to you, however, that the almost two years of dealing with her cancer have caused my survival instincts to stay very active. The whole cancer thing lends itself to survival mode.

Now that Jane has had the major surgery recommended by her oncologist, and her latest scans are still clear, we have to actually start thinking about life without cancer. What a change!

Of course, she will have more scans every three months for the next couple of years and there is always the possibility of a recurrence, God forbid. Plus, the cancer left its marks—physically on her and emotionally on the two of us. But for a sweet time we are living without the cancer and all the treatments and issues that surround it.

The truth is that I am so used to living at some level of survival mode, that my mind and body are still working on instinct rather than reality. I have to somehow train them to see that everything is all right. Back off on the knee-jerk reactions to everything and live. Live fully. Abundantly. That’s what moving on to thriving is all about.





It is what it is, and it isn’t what it should be.

29 04 2010

“Some days even my lucky rocketship underpants won’t help.”

Calvin (Calvin & Hobbes)

Photo by the Author

It is what it is. I’ve said it many times; usually as a response to someone’s complaint when something doesn’t seem right but I’m powerless do anything about it.

“This traffic isn’t even moving!” It is what it is.

“Can you believe how high this bill is?” It is what it is.

“I’m about to lose my job because of this economy…” It is what it is.

“Your scan shows that you have a tumor…” It is what it is.

Let’s just be honest about it. We can look around at many of the circumstances in life and sigh. It is what it is.

We then toughen up and live with it. Job, economy, politics, health, and just about anything else at one time or another just doesn’t seem right, not quite what it should be.

Survivors have lost the bliss of innocence. We look at life and constantly see this little twist of imperfection everywhere. A young child, on the other hand, typically doesn’t care about the traffic, the electric bill, or the economy. And he doesn’t yet understand the implications of a tumor.

But neither does a child appreciate the joy of driving through downtown Houston with no traffic or living and working in a good economy! It’s this imperfect bent about life that provides contrast and keeps us from taking the beauty in life for granted. And, yes, I hate tumors and the thought of death, but they do have a way of making me appreciate life and living.

It’s the way of things since the beginning. Adam and Eve looked around like innocent children. They were innocent children. They couldn’t appreciate what they had until they lost it. Then they became survivors. And ever since, the sons and daughters of Adam look around and see that things aren’t quite what they should be.

It’s that very trait of things not being quite right that touches us with the hope of Heaven—that something deep within us that wants to live right here, right now, but with a longing for another time and place.

Surviving doesn’t really care about the rightness of things. Survivors know things aren’t right in this world and are coping with it one day at a time. Thriving, though, moves us beyond that to look around at circumstances and sigh that it is what it is…

But know with certainty that it isn’t what it will be.





Connecting the Dots

23 04 2010

“Sometimes life hits you in the face with a brick. Keep the faith.”

Steve Jobs

I just viewed (a couple of times) a video of Steve Jobs making the 2005 commencement address at Stanford. My thanks to Jane Friedman, who posted it on her blog where I first saw it.

Believe it or not, Steve Jobs is a survivor. He’s a successful one to be sure, but a survivor nonetheless. He was a college dropout, fired from his own company (Apple), and diagnosed with pancreatic cancer (which he later learned was a rare operable form, which is why he is still alive).

Among his comments in the speech was that you couldn’t connect the dots (about life) looking forward. You can only connect the dots looking backward.

I especially like the way Jane Friedman summarizes his point in her blog post: “Life can only be lived forward, and understood backward.”

If there were ever a mantra for survivors moving from surviving to thriving, that would be it.





Cancer on the Big Screen and the 18th at Augusta

12 04 2010

Cancer was front and center in our household again over the weekend, but in a very positive way. On Saturday evening, Jane and I went to see a movie called “Letters to God” (Possibility Pictures), and on Sunday we watched Phil Mickelson win an exciting victory at the Masters followed by a very touching embrace between Phil and his cancer-stricken wife, Amy.

“Letters to God” is a movie—filmed in part at the Arnold Palmer Hospital for Children in Orlando—about a 10-year-old boy with terminal cancer who writes letters to God during his illness. His spirit provides the redemptive path for numerous people in the movie including the mailman, but the most fascinating part of the movie to me, were the letters themselves.

His letters reveal how this kid copes with his imminent death and how that might impact his friends and family. It is humbling to watch no matter your circumstances.

The movie was a little “churchy” for my taste, but I was shedding tears along with everyone else in the audience. I identified with much of what happened in the movie. Mostly with the frustrated and angry mom and brother (Robyn Lively and Michael Bolten). Both reach a point in the story where the weight is just too heavy to bear and they lose it. At one point, Mom rebukes her own mother’s attempt to console her with Bible verses. I could sure relate to that.

The boy, Tyler (Tanner Maguire), and his young friend, a girl named Sam (Bailee Madison), are heartwarming. And the boy’s letters are amazing. No wonder Jesus said that unless we become like a child, we couldn’t enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I don’t think he had whiney, screaming childishness in mind when he said that. As you hear the letters of the dying 10-year-old, you will get a pretty good idea of what he does have in mind.

It would be hard for me to watch any movie about cancer without identifying with much of it. It’s the life Jane and I have been living for almost two years. The hurt, the anger, the doubting and pouting, I’ve been through it all. Little Tyler thrills me as he demonstrates faith with a sublime innocence. It makes me want to have that sweet and simple childlike faith again. I’m not sure I can find it. I think it’s in a box stashed away somewhere behind my collection of disappointments.

And then there is my wife Jane, who has awed me as she has faced down this cancer thing over and over again—tumor after tumor, surgery after surgery, chemo after chemo, radiation after radiation—with a faith that has a certain quality that’s rare and exquisite.

And that brings me to the Masters. Last year, Amy Mickelson was diagnosed with cancer and evidently underwent surgery in the summer. I don’t know much more about it than that, because it’s a private affair and I don’t really trust much of what I read about it on the Internet. Whatever she’s been through, it isn’t over. She was too weak to follow Phil in person during his play at the Masters and appeared only as he finished his last hole on the way to victory.

Evidently he was surprised to see her as he walked off the eighteenth green and embraced and kissed her in a very touching moment that couldn’t be hidden from the television cameras.

I was shedding a few tears as I watched the scene and sensed the rush of emotion go through them as they stood there holding on to one another. Perhaps only someone who has been where they have been could fully appreciate that that moment wasn’t about winning the Masters.

Go Phil. Go Amy. You da man!





Easter

4 04 2010

[NOTE: The following post is a devotional that I wrote for Easter, 2001. What a message for going from surviving 2 thriving! A blessed Easter to all!]

As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “Your are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’”[i]

On that first Easter, the women went looking for Jesus in the tomb. They were “alarmed” to discover that the tomb was empty and became afraid. The disciples had the same experience.

What’s this, an empty tomb? Peter looked where the body of Jesus was supposed to be and went away wondering to himself what had happened. Shortly after that, he was locked away in a room with the other disciples who were hiding out in fear.

The tomb many believe was where the body of Jesus was placed

Then came a life-changing event—they encountered the risen Lord Jesus and received the promised Holy Spirit. Their doubt and fear was replaced by hope and power. Instead of hiding from the Jews and wondering what had happened to Jesus, they went right up to them and fearlessly announced, “We cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.”[ii]

I think that many people today are like those disciples on that first Easter morning. Something inside of us sees only an empty tomb while we scratch our heads and wonder what happened. Until by faith we get past the empty tomb and encounter the risen Christ, we will not live as though He lives. When Christ lives, really lives, everything changes. Boldness and power replace alarm and fear. Confidence and hope replace doubt and bewilderment. When we know Christ lives, we live every day accordingly. That means he is Lord. He is calling the shots. His purpose is our purpose. If He lives, then His Word is true and obedience is not optional.

The disciples were able to encounter the risen Jesus face-to-face. Thy touched him and ate with him. However, it is those of us who believe without seeing him who are considered “blessed.”[iii]

And so we look out with the blessed eyes of faith to encounter the Lord Jesus—our living hope and our hope for living. When we see Him, when we know that He lives, our hearts leap with joy, and we simply cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.


[i] Mark 16:5-7

[ii] Acts 4:20

[iii] John 20:29





In it for the long haul

19 03 2010

“Remember, a dead fish can float downstream, but it takes a live one to swim upstream.”

W. C. Fields

Is he in it for the long haul?

From first dates to hiring interviews to allies in war, we want to know the answer to the question. It’s important to know before we invest too much into a relationship. If the answer is “no,” that might be perfectly acceptable in some circumstances, but it is something we want to know now, not later. Am I right?

I’ve observed that online dating sites, by their nature, tend to work against the long haul relationship, no matter what they claim. Think about it. Online matching sites have created a “shopping mall” approach to dating. When we shop at a mall, we look around until we find items that look appealing, try on a bunch of stuff, toss some back on the rack, and finally make a purchase. Then, if we decide we don’t like what we purchased, we return it and move on.

Isn’t that the way dating sites work? Men and women browse around looking at the “merchandise,” find someone that looks interesting, try them on for size, and then they drop out of the relationship as easily as they got into it, often the same way they got into it, by e-mail. It’s too easy. If I meet her online, I can drop her online goes the subliminal thinking.

As long as you are good with that, and you know it going in, then fine. But if you are looking for someone who is in it for the long haul, you will have to lower your expectations of any individual you meet and be very patient in the process, knowing that you might get exchanged at any moment. The system itself is working against you.

It’s not just in the dating process, of course, but in every aspect of life, we want to know if the people we invest in are in it for the long haul. On a national level, it should be obvious that we don’t want allies bailing out when the firefight begins.

Likewise, a business doesn’t want a new hire to leave right after he reaches the point of productivity. Unfortunately, the reverse doesn’t seem to be true in most cases. That is, many companies demonstrate that they aren’t in it for the long haul with their staff. They start laying people off as soon as the going gets tough.

Survivors need people who are in it for the long haul. For that matter, everyone does.

Let me mention, again, one of my life’s theme verses of Scripture.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.[1]

God is in it for the long haul. You don’t have to wonder about it. No matter how bad the choices we make, or what life throws at us, God is hanging in with us.

That is something we can hold on to. It keeps us living with hope. Even when life seems to toss us aside like some unwanted garment.


[1] Romans 8:28





Surviving With or Without God

1 03 2010

A couple of weeks ago I was somewhat saddened to learn that one of my very first subscribers (who I didn’t know) had unsubscribed. Horrors! Was it something I said? Later that day, however, I got a new subscriber (who I also didn’t know). All was well again in Blog Land.

My analytical mind was trying to figure out why the one person dropped the subscription. Obviously, this blog doesn’t appeal to everyone. It was never intended to. Yet, this particular subscriber waited quite some time before letting go of it. Why? I asked myself.

If I had thousands of readers, I wouldn’t have ever noticed that one left. But that isn’t the case. Every reader is precious to me, if for no other reason than each and every post is a little piece of my soul, so there is at least a smidgeon of intimacy in the post and read transaction.

There is obviously no way I could know the real reason that the reader decided this blog was no longer of interest. It could be something as simple as not having enough time to fool with it. Maybe it stopped meeting a need and it disappeared off the priority reading list. Perhaps I wasn’t talking about a specific topic enough, like divorce for example. Or, the reader could have simply decided she didn’t like it, perish the thought.

I think, however, it might have something to do with the transition I made into writing about the role of God and faith in our surviving. If you go back and read the earlier posts, you’ll see that God doesn’t really make an entrance in the beginning.

There is a reason for that. There are survivors who have faith and survivors who don’t. To assume that one must have faith in order to survive painful experiences is to deny the human resilience given to us by our Creator. Plus, there are some common threads shared by most all survivors, and I want to explore those.

As I reveal in some of my posts, I have gone through times when I didn’t want a devotional. I didn’t want a sermon. I didn’t want a verse of Scripture. Even though I knew that all of those things were important. My hope is that this project will meet   people where they are at any level of surviving, whether they are walking with God, or whether they are angry, depressed, and struggling with faith.

Having said that, one wouldn’t have to read too far to learn that I believe that faith in God, specifically as he is revealed to us in Jesus Christ, is ultimately the key to moving beyond surviving to thriving. We can talk about the psychological impact of painful experiences (and I do so at length), but until we bring God into the mix, it is virtually impossible to find any purpose or hope in them.

So as the writer and director of this surviving 2 thriving experiment, I walk a line between the gut level responses most people have to the pain that life dishes out, and the faith response that looks beyond circumstances to hope and sees a higher purpose in the experiences of life. Thus, I run the risk that people of faith will think I’m not spiritual enough, and others will think I’m too preachy. What’s a man to do?

Truthfully, on the whole, this blog will be much more about faith and hope, than it will be about human determination or psychological explanations (I’m no Dr. Phil). And that’s because the only explanation for my undertaking this project is that it is what God wants me to do. And the reason he wants me to do it, is to give hope to hurting people.

I have been down a rather unusual path, and I believe have a unique perspective on this subject. This blog will not always read like a typical daily devotional. Nor will it frequently seem to read like a pop psychology newsletter. (There are resources available in both of those categories.)

From the beginning to it’s end, whenever that might be, this blog is about facing the hurts and disappointments of life with a raw realness. But doing so with faith that God is with us and for us… no matter how we feel about that on any given day.

So, I win some and lose some (subscribers). No doubt that my writing will not be spiritual enough on some days for some readers and way too “religious” on most days for others. That’s just where I am with this thing. I believe it’s where God wants me. It’s why he told me to do it. I guess I’ll keep writing until I have nothing else to say about it, or until God tells me I’m done.

I hope you will keep reading until he tells you the same.





Surgery update… back to the top on the cancer roller coaster

22 02 2010

I mentioned at some point that I don’t intend for this to be a “journal.” Yet, since I posted about Jane’s major surgery that took place on Friday, I feel that I need to post an update. So many have expressed their concern and prayers for her.

Jane “sailed” through the surgery as she always does. She was in the OR for about 10 hours. Now, she is recovering very well. There is no word yet on when she will be home, but most likely she will be in the hospital for at least a week.

To say that we hope this will be her last surgery would be an understatement. On the other hand, in the cancer world “last surgery” can have more than one meaning. What we hope is that she is through going in for tumor removals and can get on with life as a cancer survivor rather than a cancer patient.

The expression “roller coaster ride” has probably been overused, but it certainly applies to our lives dealing with cancer and probably the lives of most others. The cancer is always at the forefront of life and depending upon the current situation, you are either high or low. When you find out about a tumor, you are low. When you get through another surgery successfully, you are high. When chemo makes you sick, you are low. When you are done with chemo, you are high. The cycle repeats itself, hence the “roller coaster” effect.

It’s difficult, but not impossible, to find an upside to the cancer. If I could change it, if I could make it go away like it never happened, I would do so without hesitation. Having said that, it has had a profound effect on the way Jane and I look at things. So much in life that seemed so damn important at one time just isn’t anymore.

When I observe people around me and the things that are so very upsetting to them, sometimes I just have to chuckle. When I read some of the posts on Facebook complaining about something, I have to resist the urge to comment, “But you don’t have cancer.”

The cancer has also had an effect on my faith—in a way that I can’t quite explain. In the past, I would pray for healing for someone, with cancer for example, and when it didn’t happen, I would accept that as the way it was meant to be and my life would move on as before.

Now, when I pray for healing, and instead Jane gets another tumor, I take it a bit more personally. I can’t tell you how many times after a moving time of prayer, we have said, “How can God not answer that prayer? Then, we get the news of another tumor.

I no longer accept these things simplistically. It’s not as simple as a problem, a prayer, and a God solution (or not). The journey—the roller coaster ride—seems to be part of the plan. God’s answer isn’t always an end result, but rather it is the getting there.

That doesn’t mean I like it. It doesn’t mean I don’t take the “answers” to my prayers personally. But I do have to look at things outside the box we tend to put God into. Otherwise, I would go crazy. So, I try to make sure I’m strapped in for the ride.








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