on teleportation. among other things.

My friends who know me well know that I have at least two irrational desires.

The first irrational desire is to have a pet pegasus. Now, I realize that all scientific and historical evidence appears to suggest that these magnificent creatures are in fact mythical; however, this is precisely why I would want one. I would be the only person in the universe [to my knowledge] to own one. I would have an adventurous (albeit windy) mode of transportation, and a beautiful animal for a friend.

The second irrational desire is to be able to teleport. I cannot even describe to you how many times I have wished this power for myself on a regular basis. After an absurdly late night downtown, I would often wish to teleport so I would not have to make the half an hour drive from downtown Orlando to my house all the way in the boondocks. I would have instant access to anywhere in the world at the snap of a finger. I wouldn't have to deal with train tickets, bad airplane food or jetlag.

In addition to many ongoing conversations in the past of our superpowers and what they would be, Jeanne and I would frequently realized how handy this superpower would have been in Australia. In fact, if we were still able to teleport, I would probably teleport myself right now for some hot surfers, a decent cappuccino, some vintage shopping, maybe a Hillsong service or two and some serious beach time. Then at the end of a glorious Sydney spring day, I could teleport myself back to the comfort of my American bed.

While we were in Australia, we would frequently dream of the ability to teleport to America. We'd blink and in a momentary flash, surprise our friends by teleporting ourselves into Backbooth for 80s night on a random Friday, or maybe to Chickfila for some much-needed sweet tea or chicken nuggets, and definitely back in time for my mom's graduation or an impromptu family reunion.

I remember road-tripping through Australia with Walt and Jeanne. Once we left Sydney after our initial 12-day stay there, we hopped in a car and drove south of Sydney. That first day of driving turned out to have its own series of misadventures, since neither Walt nor Jeanne had ever driven on the left side of the road. Not to mention the right side of the car. I'm pretty sure we got lost multiple times, trying to find the Princes Highway which would eventually lead us south through Wollongong and on through to our first memorable stop of the Pacific Coast road-trip: a tiny town of Bermagui. Population: 220.

On our way to Bermagui, we stopped at several places along the way. Whenever we saw a seven-mile beach or set of cliffs or read about some sight (tessellated rocks, anyone?) to see in the guide book, we'd instantly pull the car over and have a look. I loved the utter freedom to simply revel in creation, to be immersed in the vastness of the world, to feel swallowed up in it. Even when sights turned out to be not-so-glorious (note to future Lonely Planet travelers: the blowhole at Kiama is not all its cracked up to be), many times, it's the unexpected that becomes glorious. Like the time the night sky caught us by surprise and showed off for us as we stopped our car on a bridge in the middle of nowhere just to look up at the stars. I could have sworn the stars were reflected in the glassy, dark water that surrounded us.

I've been contemplating the word "fear" in the Bible. The Greeks have three words for fear. Many times, the word fear can mean come from the Greek deilia, which means timidity or cowardice. The kind of fear bred from insecurity, mistrust and anxiety.

However, many times, when that word appears in Scripture, it comes from the Greek word eulabeia which means to be in utter awe at the reality of something. The "fear of God" is not a Bible-thumping, judgmental, white-bearded, wrinkled old man shaking his finger at us: rather, the fear of God is a response to a sweeping, breathtaking panorama, an all-consuming, glimpse into Something that is Truth. Something that is real. Something that makes our souls come alive at the sound, sight and the very hint of Its presence. Scripture says that "angels long to look into these things." I heard pastor Tim Keller of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in NYC describe this "longing" as being equivalent with "obsession." The gospel is so complex, compelling and at once incomprehensible that angels are obsessing over it, wondering at the marvel and mystery of it, and utterly unable to grasp it in its entirety.

That's the kind of awe I feel when I crane my neck up to look at the myriad of stars over Bermagui one night. Or the time when I am sitting on a balcony of a raucous hostel in Cairns on Anzac Day with two friends, deeply moved by uncensored words and intimate revelation of self.

As much as I ardently wish for teleportation, I am realizing more and more how necessary are the detours, the unexpected and the silent, despairing moments when I'm left wondering if I'm worth anything or any good to anyone. It is within these moments that I can truly know the extent of someone's love. Or Someone's love. One kind of fear (the awe, which, is actually the only appropriate response to Love) negates the other. My identity and purpose, my very soul's source is rooted in perfect Love. If only I could consciously grasp that on a daily basis...

I love what Lander posted in his blog here about progress. He exhorted readers to: "Hold onto the progress you have made." Progress does not allow for an instant gratification culture that sometimes feels like it is on a trajectory to teleportation. Progress has brilliant moments of insight and beauty and wonder. But it also includes difficult moments of doubt, it is in those moments where I have to flee from the allure of emotions and perception and cling to truths that I know, visions I remember, and dreams that are sealed up in my memory. These things cannot be truly learned or grasped in an instantaneous moment of teleportation.

So yeah, I'm pretty sure even teleportation is overrated.

But not the pegasus.

leavin' las Oz

Tonight, Jeanne and I had a three-way Skype conversation with Alexey, our Russian friend from the land Down Under. We've had several missed calls to each other over the past month and haven't had much of a chance to catch up with him. He caught us up on all the things he's been up to: he finished his class, he got his motorbike license, he picked up the violin, which he hasn't played since he was a young boy. I suddenly remembered all of the bits of Australia that I had unknowingly discarded. It was as if they were bright and shiny souvenirs that I had discarded, but suddenly discovered tucked away safely in a forgotten shoebox.

It's really strange how the memories of a place can be wrapped up in the friendship with one person. And it isn't until you're around that friend that you unlock all the memories you have of a place, of a time.

I remembered how fast and crazily Alexey swerves and parks his car, defying all laws of physics when doing so. I remembered how his bird Petrovich can speak five languages. I remember him telling us stories about growing up in Russia and how it wasn't cool to play a violin, and Russian boys think it's better to pick up a gun than a four-stringed instrument. I remembered when he took us to his "favorite spot" at Maroubra Beach on a windy Sydney winter night and we shared sandwiches and split a beer while the wind bit our noses and whipped around our feet.

For some reason, I suddenly remembered our last bittersweet weekend in Australia, when Jeanne and I decided to drink every last drop of Sydney, splurging and renting a car, visiting the Northern Beaches, down to Watson's Bay and the South Head, wandering one more time through Bondi Beach and its fabulous market, going to three Hillsong services, eating a Lebanese feast with Dave and Bec, and amazing flourless chocolate cake in some restaurant in Glebe.

Every moment was cherished. Every conversation we knew would be our last. Every moment of music we drank in, greedily.

Jeanne just wrote a blog which I found to be very thought provoking. She quotes the lovely Brothers Karamazov, a certain question between two Russian brothers. She wrote about this idea of leaving and saying good-bye. And how we let good-byes shape the way we treat people. The way we treat life.

A dear friend of mine is wrestling with some severe health issues. She seems so aware of her fragility, her mortality, these days.

"I could die."

Without warning, this thought suddenly shot through my heart as I sat there listening to her: We all could die. We're all an inch away from death, in many ways. A slip in the bathtub, unexpected cancer, a wreck on the highway. Death, I imagine, is a lot closer then we would like to pretend. The possibility of death hovers around us constantly whether we realize it or not. Maybe not a grotesque caricature like the Grim Reaper, but certainly as an unwelcome, unpredictable guest.

This afternoon, I sat in stand-still rush hour traffic in the pouring Florida rain and decided to sync my iPod with my Macbook. Probably not the smartest thing to do in traffic. The thought occurred to me that I could probably die doing that as well.

I wonder if we could truly wrap our minds around how close we were to death at any given moment, would we realize how close we also are to life? The same inch that separates us from death is the same inch that so often separates us from truly experiencing life with freedom and purpose.

I've just spent the last five months traveling throughout a country where many people dream all their lives of going. I quit my job for an adventure and I found one. I [literally] hiked through canyons, road-tripped through a coastal highway, went skydiving, swam in the Great Barrier Reef [one eye infection later], slept under the stars of the outback. Surely I, the world-traveler, would have a firmer grasp on living life to the fullest?

I don't. In fact, I'm learning more and more how much I have to learn, how inadequate I am, how I so often fail at loving people the way Christ loved people. Just because I've loved a beautiful country to the fullest extreme doesn't mean I've learned how to love people in the same way. I am learning--by God's grace--I am learning. I have learned about faith, hope and love from a beautiful church community in Sydney. I have learned about saunas and exuberance from a crazy Russian. I learned about family from a Polish Puerto Rican and about friendship from a Irish Georgian. I have learned from families and hostels and houses and memories scattered all across Oz's rugged terrain.

But it certainly is strange, after all this traveling, to have been returned to a place of unknowing at the very place I started at. And so many of the lessons I learned unexpectedly over the past few months are being put through the fire. To the test. Repeatedly.

I don't want to have to leave a place in order to love it. And I don't want to have to miss [or lose] people before I love and appreciate and know them as they are.

looking up at you from the flat of my back

This past weekend, I drove with Mim and Jeanne to attend the Hillsong United Encounter event in Miami.

To be honest, I have had a lot of trouble over the past few weeks adjusting to life back in Orlando. Don't get me wrong: I've much enjoyed re-connecting with family and friends. I enjoy $2.50 movies and cheap books and ChickFila and quality salads and good Mexican food. I love late nights with with friends on front porches and not having to explain what LOST is to an Aussie for the millionth time.

But over the past couple of weeks, the sharp contrast between American and Australian culture has simply irritated me. Depressed me, even. America just feels the annoying neighbor that's just loud and flashy and rude. I've also felt creatively dry. Every time I've sit in front of my piano or with my guitar or in front of a computer screen, I feel like I am forcing myself to be profound and interesting, and have simply turned up dry. I haven't been blogging because I quite honestly do not feel like I have a whole lot to say, or at least anything that people will find remotely interesting.

I love my church community here in Status, but sometimes I feel like the the significant attitude and paradigm shifts that I felt like I was beginning to catch a glimpse of while in Australia have simply slipped away, swallowed up once again by a cynical, let's-hold-God-at-an-intellectual-arms-length-so-we-can-be-simultaneously-being-cool-and-articulate-mindset (wow, that's a lot of hyphens). The vibrancy of the hopeful, believing, life-changing attitude that seems to pervade the entire Hillsong Church--and it really is infectious--seemed to dissipate within a few weeks of being back home.

In essence, the very thing I was afraid of since coming back to Orlando was coming true.

On top of that, I still have no job. There are a few prospects that are promising, but since I have been looking for a job since June, the strain of uncertainty and unemployment has begun to wear on me. And it shows. I've felt emotionally fragile. I've sobbed. I've overanalyzed. I've become anxious.

I had a moment earlier this week when I felt refreshed and I was secretly grateful that this moment came prior to going to Hillsong Encounter. I did not want to rely on an event or a program to lift my spirits or give me an "emotional high." In His own way, God reminded me that He is still sovereign.

But by the time Friday hit, I was ready for Hillsong.

Going to Miami this weekend felt like I was momentarily teleported to Sydney. Seeing leaders like Brian and Bobbie Houston and the Hillsong United team, it was like being back at the City campus in downtown Sydney. There was something comforting about Aussie accents and even hearing them talk about the city and church in such a familiar way. I attended all the worship sessions and even attended a couple of breakout sessions, one on songwriting with Joel Houston, Brooke Ligertwood and Matt Crocker, and the other with Jad Gillies (worship leader of the Hills campus) and the entire Hillsong United team for an in-depth discussion on worship leading.

Saturday night, they closed the event out with an intense three-and-a-half hour session of praise and worship and a message by Scott "Sanga" Samways, who absolutely KILLED it. He preached with such passion and authority on the significance and power of the blood and sacrifice of Jesus.

Saturday night was basically a Hillsong United "Greatest Hits" love fest. If you have never been to a Hillsong United concert or event, let me warn you: it involves hopping. Lots and lots of hopping. And punching the air with your first.

Superficially, at least.

It also involves God knocking you on to the flat of your back.

Take Saturday night. They played all of the really high-energy, fist-pumping songs like "No Reason to Hide" and "Your Name High." They also did the epic songs like "Tear Down the Walls" and "With Everything", songs that have become personal favorites and anthems over the past couple of months. Hillsong also did well-known faves like "Mighty to Save" and "Hosanna."

Toward the second half of the set, they started playing "From the Inside Out."

This song has been shelved recently in my iPod playlist, mostly because it's an earlier song and because there are lots of new songs to be excited about. I kind of forgot it used to be one of my favorites, along with "Hosanna." So when they re-introduced the song, complete with a funky new riff, it came as a surprise.

I was not prepared for what happened in the next few moments.

It was as if all the uncertainty and disappointment and emotion of the past few weeks came crashing down on me during the song. The lyrics took on a whole different meaning for me as I stood there next to Jeanne and Tiff, underneath the brightly colored lights.

The lyrics, which I have heard dozens and dozens of times before, go like this:

A thousand times I've failed, still Your mercy remains
Should I stumble again, still I'm caught in Your grace

A thought suddenly struck me. Although I felt like I was experiencing a fantastic--even exhilarating time this weekend, something within me was unsettled, unhappy with my own attitude, knowing something needed to shift. In this moment, I felt my attitude completely stripped down. I became intensely aware of my flaws and weaknesses and insecurities, the reality of which has been laid heavily upon my soul lately. I constantly see my selfishness play out, a sharp contrast to the selflessness and life of service I believing the Spirit of God is continually molding me toward. Combine this with the fact that I had just heard Sanga preach passionately about the sacrifice of Jesus, I felt like a new believer again: in wondrous amazement that I could ever be included in anything significant and redemptive that the Lord was doing in the world. I have felt the suffocating, stomach-turning weight of failure, and I realized for the thousandth time, how much I am in need of grace that can only come from God.

Your will above all else, my purpose remains
The art of losing myself in bringing You praise

One of the major things I came away with from Australia was a call to re-enter the worship leading sphere, this time with more focus and purpose. Over the weekend, I have become intensely aware of my need to learn. Listening to Brooke and Jad and Joel and the rest of the team speak about their experiences and perspective, I realized that despite all of my experience and knowledge and background, I have so much to learn musically and spiritually. I sensed the Spirit once again returning me to a place of humility and unknowing. I feel completely inadequate and completely in touch with the extent of my brokenness.

Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades
Neverending, Your glory goes beyond all fame

By the time we sung these words, I was absolutely bawling. And although I have cried a few times in the past few weeks, I absolutely cannot remember the last time I have been in utter tears while singing to God, and BELIEVING what I'm singing to Him.

These words suddenly seemed alive and pregnant with meaning. They seemed to articulate all of the struggles I've had recently with remembering Australia, holding on to the things I've learned, and being worried that I wouldn't change. Or the truths that I've become so confident and sure of would simply fade away in time, leaving no real mark upon my life.

For the past few weeks, I have struggled immensely with the idea of leaving Australia--particularly Hillsong Church--behind. I remember even a couple of weeks ago, Jeanne expressed to me that she missed Australia. I casually shrugged and said I didn't miss it. And I didn't. At the moment anyway. Because I wasn't thinking about it. Or maybe I was trying not to think about it.

But since then, I've realized I have become so attached to the way I see faith expressed and lived out in the hearts and lives of the people I met and observed. The atmosphere there is absolutely charged with belief in transformation. I've had many conversations lately with a few close friends on the possibility of transformation. In Orlando, it's harder to believe that change is possible because a spirit of doubt and cynicism seems to prevail here sometimes.

I sense God doing something powerful and miraculous in the midst of the church in Sydney. I have become so inspired by and attached to the positivity, the vision, the vibrancy, that I forget that the purposes and glory of God far outweighs cultural differences and preferences. Even hearing Brian and Sanga and others talk this week, I see how passionately committed they are to the community in Sydney. The deep love and commitment they have for the church back home is so incredibly apparent.

Those lyrics instantaneously made me remember that the glory of God far outweighs and exceeds even Hillsong Church. I have been relying so much on this church for a sense of purpose and connectedness to God. The hope and vision and perspective imparted to me on a consistent basis really did help elevate my awareness of the Lord. I realized the fallacy of my thinking in letting Australia and Hillsong fade from my memory, from my grasp. The glory and fame of God far outweighs the platform and reach of even Hillsong Church. As far-reaching and influential as that church is, it pales in comparison to the power and possibility in God. In a sense, God stripped even Hillsong Church away from me in this moment, and overwhelmed me with the magnitude of His presence that is eternal and steadfast and infinite and beautiful.

And the cry of my heart is to bring You praise
From the inside out, Lord, my heart cries out

With no true, extended amounts of alone time for the past six months, I realized that that has significantly altered my ability re-engage intimately with God. As a result, I haven't approached Him as often or as honestly or relationally as my soul obviously needs Him through continual acts of worship and devotion. It's not simply time clocked in or things I need to do: it's a complete attitude shift. Although things I need to do are clearer: in terms of worship leading and serving and investing in people, I remember over and over again how important it is to stay bathed and immersed in the Source. Every act of love or service I do is rendered meaningless if I am not doing this as a result of intimacy with and worship of God, through Jesus and with a sensitivity to the Spirit.

God did something significant in my own heart the final weeks we were in Sydney. I was reminded this weekend that vision is a long-term thing. Something that will require commitment, perseverance, patience and prayer. So much of the transition back here has been governed by my feelings and preferences, and I have to remember that God's perspective of His kingdom is so much grander and beautiful than my own.

And that these things are possible.

Application Approved!

Queensland Tourism approved my application for the Best Job in the World! Yippeeeee!:)

Jeanne and I are coming in a little bit later in the game, but if you want to help either of us win the Island Caretaker job (ooh sounds like we're applying to be Jacob or Pretty Eye Guy of LOST), please click here and watch the video and rate us. The more viewings and higher ratings, the more we're likely to attract attention and votes.

Thanks for taking the time to rate us!:)

Jeanne and Mel's Island Reef Job application

My dear friend Jeanne and I are applying for The Best Job in the World, hosted by Queensland Tourism in Australia. We are joining 30,000+ people from all over the world who are also applying for this job.

The job? To live in a 3 bedroom house on an island in the Great Barrier Reef. Explore the island, snorkel, swim, hang out on the beach, go hiking. And write and video blog about it.

Oh, and a nice pay check of $100,000.

I know.

This is a long shot, I know since the chances of us beating out other 30,000 people are slim, but seriously, Jeanne and I are already traveling to Australia, leaving in March 2009. The job is slated to last from July-December 2009, about the time we were thinking of moving to Byron Bay or Gold Coast or some other lovely coastal city and finding jobs waiting tables, bartending, or fruit picking with migrant workers. Or sheepherding.

No, really.

This Island Reef job is really a public relations tool to help boost the tourist industry in Australia, which, like the rest of us living in this poor world, is caught up in worldwide recession.

Jeanne and I have been planning this 3-6 month (possibly up to a year!) trip to Australia since August, so we are basically the poster child for Australian tourism. Currently, we are planning to start off in Sydney next month, head to Darwin and Ayers' Rock, then fly back to the southern coast (dip down to Tasmania for a bit) and work our way up the eastern coast, with Cairns and the Great Barrier Reef as our final destinations.

I remember telling Jeanne back when we first heard about this job that when we applied with the video, that all we had to do was just be ourselves. And treat the Australian Tourism Industry like it was some cute guy that we are trying to pick up. Haha;)

There are lots of marine biologists, Xtreme sports people, dolphin trainers, tour guides, etc. applying for this job who probably have a lot more experience than we do. But, I really hope that the fact that we are traveling there anyway to just soak up life and enjoy the beauty and culture of Australia (and actually quit our 9-5 jobs in order to do so!) will speak volumes to them.

Even if we don't get this job, we will be video blogging and writing about our adventures the whole way.

And we will also be looking for our personal "Drovah":



(see: Hugh Jackman in Baz Luhrmann's film "Australia" for further reference).

Anyway, so here is the video. Hope you enjoy. And I will post the link to the website as soon as I receive approval so you guys can start voting for/rating our video!

Cheers!

-Mel

Why I'm Going to Australia. And other Randoms.

I suppose now that I've formally submitted my intention to quit my job, I can now officially blog about the beginnings of this newest adventure of mine.

Yes, the rumors are true. My dear friend Jeanne and I are temporarily moving to Australia as of March 2009. We booked one-way tickets from L.A. to Sydney (by way of Fiji).

A lot of people have been been asking us why we're doing this. Particularly my mom, who just about passed out when I informed her of my decision.

Why am I going? Valid question. If I were you, I'd want to know, too. In my initial attempt to genuinely engage each person I talk to, I've inadvertently and unfortunately come up with a lot of stock answers for this question. You'd be surprised how few people actually ask "Why?" Maybe the coolness factor of Australia precludes any further questioning. As if I need a REASON to travel to Australia and New Zealand, right?;)

But in the off-chance that someone DOES ask and pushes me beyond my usually "Just to travel and see the world" answer, I usually just say joke around and say something along the lines of "Because we can" or "We have an opportunity to" or "We're young, single and unattached" or "I just want an adventure."

There is truth to every single one of these answers. Yet none of these replies seem to fully encompass my true motivation.

Especially amid a struggling economy, and in light of the fact that both of Jeanne's and my job recently gave us major raises and increased responsibility even in the past month, this flight of fantasy around the world probably seems a bit irresponsible. Maybe even ungrateful, at least in light of the financial blessing in a tight economy that God provides through our jobs. And Jeanne and I have both wrestled with the ramifications of that reality recently.

I'll admit, life has shifted around a lot for me over the past five or six months in unexpected ways, since the suggestion of Australia was planted in my brain. A year ago, you would have found me unequivocally longing to ditch Orlando. If it weren't for my band The OaKs and the distinct possibility of a achieving musical success for a time, I admit I probably would have left a long time ago. I was considering seminary, working harder on music, heading north or west or someplace different. 2007, as many of you know, was not the greatest year in my life. And with few personal attachments to Orlando (other than my family and a couple of friends), about a year ago, I was poised to leave for anywhere.

I suppose I've become a bit of a nomad over the years. I tend to become close with people really easily and quickly, mostly because I've adapted to the transience of life. I've had to say good-bye to far too many good friends, likely with the possibility of never seeing them again. And although my introverted self used to want to just shut down and become an independent floater/loner (so much easier that way), I've inexplicably found myself drawn into relationships with certain individuals and groups. And I constantly sense God inviting me into meaningful relationships, with no agenda and or timetable or crazy expectations on my part. Just a freedom to step into communities and relationships and see what develops from there. To learn from other people who see things differently than I do. To completely be where I am. And that sort of journey has been what's defined my relationships with people over the past year, whether through FCC, Southside, work, Status and other spheres within my life.

For someone who is constantly scanning the horizon, this slowing down and living in a state of being and being completely present in the moment has been a HUGE step in personal growth for me. The city that I had been itching to leave for so long has become a city that I love, and one that holds a lot of good memories for me.

Somewhere along the line, this plan to go to Australia coalesced along the way, and I found someone else who is probably as nomadic as me to share the journey with. But I've discovered that over the past 5 or 6 months, my motivations for wanting to travel have changed. And over the past few months, the reality of what it would mean to leave family and friends behind and step into an unknown began to hit me. God has stripped away a lot of my selfish notions and attitude of self-involvement. I even contemplated (and wrestled considerably through much fasting and prayer) if I was to even still go through with this trip.

While my initial reason for wanting to go was merely "wanting to escape," this motivation eventually transformed (and is still transforming) into a desire for inviting in a change of pace, change in comfort, a challenging adventure and a season for reflection, or to be incredibly cliche, a time of soul-searching. I love experimenting, pushing the limits of who I am and seeing how much I can grow within any given context.

I'm not expecting to hear from God any better over in Australia than over here in Florida. That is not the point of this. I am beginning to believe and embrace more and more that God calls us to be exactly where we are. Right now, that's here. And I'm digging in. A few months from now, it'll be the open road Down Under. So I'll dig in there as well.

But this is what I am most anticipating in Australia: stripping life of the routine and predictability and seeing how God speaks into that. Fully expecting Him to, just as He has here in Orlando.

I'm expecting this trip to be exciting, yes, but also incredibly difficult. For the first couple of months anyway, Jeanne and I will be roaming the continent and are not going to have any sort of consistent community. We are fully aware of the issues tied to that and so for those of you who love and know us well, we definitely want to be soliciting your prayers over the next few months here.

We both intend to read and write and create along the way. (I either need to bring a guitar or find one in a pawn shop over in Australia, or else I'm gonna go nuts). The tentative plan is to eventually settle down in the Gold Coast (south of Brisbane) temporarily and find jobs and get connected to a community there. And after that, we've dreamt of everything from London and Tanzania to Italy and South America.

But plans, as you well know, are always up for revision.

I fully realize that it would be the ultimate touch of irony (and humility) if I were to somehow end up back in Orlando after only a few months. And given the community and friends I've been blessed with over the past year, that would actually be an amazing, wonderful thing.

So if that's what's in store, I'll invite that possibility--and a thousand others--with open arms.