Without Love, Where Would You Be Now?


Sermon at New Song Community Church. 9-29-19, on Luke 15 and I John 4:7-12


Yesterday I preached at New Song, our church. I don’t preach there very often, but it’s our home church and I preach there as a part of the body, not as a “guest preacher.” I’ve also preached there, once in a while, for around 15 years now. It is home.

This one was good. I’ve learned that how I feel about a sermon afterward is a limited and often skewed perspective. I felt a little wonky after I preached–yes, that is a technical sermon-assessment term taught in most seminaries)–in no small part because Kim wasn’t there to squeeze my hand and tell me “Good job” or “It’s okay,” as the situation requires, as she has been for about 85% of my sermons.

But the feedback I got afterward, and having a day’s distance to re-evaluate, convinces me that God did a lot more than I realized.

Of course, that’s a laughably massive understatement, in the sense that God always does so much more than I can see, including often working through me in spite of me and my fumblings. God is good and grace is greater.

But I’m also celebrating this one because I’ve been more or less a mess since I moved back from Nicaragua and this felt like I’m finding me. Not “finding me again,” not going back to the me who left for Nicaragua is 2011, nor the shellshocked semi-monk who moved back in 2018, but the me God has been healing and piecing back together and reconstructing through the whole journey. It’s been a messy process for me to figure out how I’m walking with Jesus now. It always is. Jesus is faithful and I’m finding my stride again, as this “me.”

Most importantly, I’m remembering and relearning what it means that Jesus loves me. Hope this helps you know, too.

PS The random laughter you’ll hear came because I was using a music stand for my manuscript and it kept lowering, imperceptibly but determinedly, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how to adjust it. The fourth or fifth time it became pretty funny.

Who Says You Are Not Worthy? God’s Love, Part 1


I’m “supposed to be” (according to me) working on my novel, but this blog post is erupting from my brain and has to happen right now. Possibly because someone needs to see it right now.

First, any thought you have that God cannot or will not love you is a lie. God can and does. Now.

Sin damages us. When we sin, we act against our design and hurt ourselves. If you hyperextend your knee, you’ve bent it the wrong direction, against design, and it hurts. You strain or tear tendons and ligaments. It takes time to recover. It may need surgery. It will hurt for a while. You may walk with a limp.

Sin hurts us. God hates sin because God loves us and God hates to see us damage ourselves. 

I know, some people want to insist that God is so offended by sin that he can’t look on us when we sin.

Jesus seemed very able to “look on” people when they sinned. In fact, Jesus told the story of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15 because the religious leaders got offended with all that “looking on” sinners that Jesus kept doing, eating meals with them, hanging out with them, going to their parties, making them feel loved. It really pissed them off, not to put too fine a point on it.

So Jesus stopped and addressed them. He told them three parables, specifically to address their gross misunderstanding about God.

Everything we know about God that we take from the lost sheep, the lost coin, and especially the lost son (“was lost and is found, was dead and is alive”) we heard because the Pharisees wanted to say, “No, these are shameful people! God can’t stand them! You have no business spending time with them! Come be with us clean, godly people and get away from them!”

Therefore, when I tell you that God loves you right now and any thoughts you have to the contrary are lies, I’m telling you “read Luke 15!” I’m telling you, “The Pharisees are wrong!” I’m telling you, “Don’t agree with the Pharisees about yourself!”

If we focus on how God is “offended” by our sin, we make God into a Pharisee. The Pharisees wanted to do that. Jesus upset them by telling them how wrong they were. If you read carefully, you’ll recognize that the elder brother in the parable looks and sounds an awful lot like..,them.

Sin does not separate us from God. I’m going to write that again.

Sin does notseparate us from God. 

“But Mike, the Bible says…”

Sin damages us. Sin makes us think wrong. When we sin it makes us think God doesn’t want us, or that we would be better off without God. But our sin does not make God go away. And we only go if we choose to.

The Bible says, Jesus says, the Father, who was watching for his son, saw him from a long way off, ran like someone unconcerned about his dignity, threw his arms around his pig feces-smelling child, and held him tight. It says the Father couldn’t wait to listen through his beloved son’s apology/self-rejection. 

“I’m not worthy to be–“

“Bring the robe and the ring and the sandals right now!Prepare the party! We are celebrating this boy!” 

You know who wouldn’t be around that young man? The elder brother.

“Now you listen to me, Father! All I’ve ever done is slave for you, I never got even a pathetic goat-roast party with my friends, and when this son of yours comes back from his whoring ways after devouring our fortune, you welcome him! I’m not coming in to his party! I’m offended at him and you! I can’t even look at him!” 

Get that? I’m paraphrasing, but I believe I’m accurately conveying the tone and attitude. It’s the elder brother, not the father, who can’t look, who turns away, who wants to hold us to our shame. The hardest thing in the world was for the younger son to come back. Do you think it got harder or easier once he arrived? Why?

Of course it got easier. The son knew the father wanted him home, welcomed him home, rejoiced in his return. I can’t think of any way he could have made that more clear, including confronting the brother who wanted to reject him.

Yes, I get a lot of my theology from Jesus. I’m supposed to. Jesus is God. I’m consciously christocentric and trinitarian. Jesus is the full revelation of God. Don’t read Jesus through Paul. Read all the rest of the Bible through Jesus. God is one, and God is consistent. If God loves you, then God loves you, not this part of God loves you but that other part rejects you.

And you know what? 

God loves you.

Back to us and our shame.

You may have done some bad things, some things you feel horrible about, maybe even some things you hope no one ever finds out about. 

Maybe these were things someone did to you. Maybe they are thoughts you have. Maybe they’re things you’re still doing and still hiding.

I’m not trying to out you. Being outed is just another version of being shamed. Being outed is violence.

The Bible says “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” I John 1:9

I’m telling you: God loves you right now, knowing what you’ve done, knowing what you’re doing, and you have neither alienated God nor made yourself unlovable. I’m telling you that shame you may feel is how you feel about yourself, nothow God feels about you. Ever. I’m telling you the lie is that your feeling toward yourself equals God’s feeling toward you. 

The lost son believed he was no longer worthy to be his father’s son. He was wrong. He wasn’t wrong that he felt that way–he did feel that way. He was wrong that it was a true, objective fact. He was wrong that his father felt that way about him. Ever. He was wrong that his father wanted to punish him and would take him up on “Yes, let’s humiliate you by making you my servant and you can sleep in the servants’ quarters and wait on your elder brother every day.” Guess who would have been satisfied with that judgment? The elder brother would have come to a “Let’s abase and mortify my (disowned) younger brother” party. 

Think about this for a moment. I know I’ve got my tongue in cheek a little here, but honestly, the brother who would not come to welcome his younger brother home, would he have attended a ceremony to punish and debase him? I’m almost certain he would have come in from the fields for that. Or just a good old informal reckoning where his shame and guilt were shouted out and he was stripped of everything (as if he had anything left to be stripped of)?

If you think that’s how God feels about you, you have the wrong picture of God.  If that’s how you feel about yourself….you have the wrong picture of God. What do I mean by that? God is not the elder brother. God gets the last word about you, not you. Otherwise you’re God. God decides if you are still worthy of being called “child.” Just as the father decided about his returning son.

God says “Yes.”

Post-script: After I wrote this post, I realized it was the sermon for Sunday. It became the first half. So I didn’t post this until after church. Part two will be the second half.

Light in the Darkness


This is the darkest time in U.S. politics I’ve yet lived through. What do I do in response?

I’ve tried different things. I’ve gotten angry. I’ve gotten depressed. I’ve cussed a lot.

I tried to ignore what’s going on. I’ve immersed myself in the news. I’ve read the news from varying political positions. I’ve read international news on what’s happening here.

The last three days, I got to help some friends move by driving from Burbank, CA back to Wenatchee, WA. In doing so, I got to spend a ton of time with one of the best people I know. I’m not saying he’s one of the best people in the whole world, just one of the best people I know personally. He and my friends who were moving (his son and daughter-in-law) thanked me profusely and repeatedly, as well as feeding me well and putting me up in luxury accommodations. Don’t tell them, but I might have paid for two days of getting to hang out with this guy.*

As you might imagine, we talked about everything under the sun, though primarily sports and following Jesus. Not in that order.

We talked a lot about the grace series I just completed and our discussion drove home this one fact: now is the time to share more light.

The news is horrible and gets worse every day. Ignoring it feels unfaithful and following it depresses me.** I’ve given serious consideration to developing a new addiction. “Ooh, Mike, that’s dark humor and insensitive to those who deal with addictions.” Yeah, it would be if I were kidding. I decided I have enough challenges without that.

But what people need, always and especially now, is hope. Encouragement. Kindness. Reminders that they are loved.

You are loved.

Right now, in this moment, reading this blog post, you are loved. I don’t just believe that, I know that, with absolute certainty. Not that you will be loved when you make yourself lovable, stop doing the bad things you’ve been doing, or finally start doing the right things. Not when you have the correct views on politics or an accurate understanding of the world. Not when you get people to treat you better or more respectfully or as you deserve. You are loved right now.

YOU. Are loved. Right freaking NOW.

That’s the light.

How can I convince you of that? I can’t. I don’t have that power.

But I’ve realized I plan to do this with my one wild and precious life:

God, Jesus who is Christ, the Great and Holy Spirit that flows through all things, loves you more than you will ever know and more, perhaps, than you will grasp in an eternity with God.

For those keeping score, that’s one God, not three (Trinity and all that jazz) who does not have conflicting views on you. God isn’t angry with you and taking it out on Jesus while the Spirit tries to win Him over. God isn’t biologically male, either, though Jesus was as a human and God incarnate. But that’s just my best understanding and if that throws you off or pisses you off, don’t let it sidetrack you. The point is, God loves you. You don’t need a perfect understanding of who or how or why; you need to know it’s true. You need to know it’s real. Being loved and knowing you are loved changes us. Maybe not instantly–though sometimes it does–but inexorably, i.e. “in a way that is impossible to stop or prevent.”

That’s pretty cool.

“Yeah, but–“

Believe me, I have “Yabuts” about God’s love, too. Again, I can’t convince you. What I can tell you is this: in my fifty years of life it’s the one constant I’ve known. God redeems. God heals. God loves.

You know why that guy is one of the best people I know? He’s been hanging out with God for sixty-some years. He told me he’s never felt closer to God or been more excited about God than he does and is right now. He started out with a theology that did not focus on God’s love. At all. It gave him guilt and shame. Lots of rules. Plus, a clear message that anyone who didn’t believe right, meaning exactly like his church did, would burn in hell for eternity.

But God’s love? Inexorable.

This many years of hanging out with God and he exudes God’s love. Even when he’s making fun of me (not so hard to do), I feel loved. How would you not want to spend time with a guy like that?

Cuz you know what that really means? I spent 1200 miles being reminded that God loves me. Talking baseball and theology and singing along to Bob Seger and Bad Company and The Doobies and, underlying it all, that constant reminder. God does love me. It was a great way for me to spend three days.

I wish the same for you. Maybe not sitting in a car for twenty-one hours over two days, but to that same depth.

This doesn’t magically solve the feces storm we’re in right now. I’m not claiming it does. It doesn’t instantly heal depression or take away our responsibility to fight injustice happening all around us. For that last one, quite the opposite.

But this is the light we need to remember so we can keep going through this darkness. It’s the light that reminds us the whole world isn’t darkness. In fact, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)

There are people given over to evil doing evil things and many other people whom I believe have good hearts who are going along with it. I can’t explain this and it grieves me to my solar plexus. Discourages the hell out of me. Makes me want to scream. Tempts me to give up on humanity.

But the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not and will not and cannot overcome it.

God’s love shines through this evil. God’s love shines through my darkness. God, astoundingly, loves those people given over to doing evil. God loves those people who are going along with it.

Most astoundingly to me, God loves me.***

Therefore, now is the time to shine.

The next series will be on God’s love for us and how that love changes us.

*Certainly don’t tell him that, or he’ll start charging me to hang out.

**That’s for me. You decide the faithful balance for you.

***I’m not being facetious. I know me better than I know them and I know more clearly what is (to me) unlovable in me.

Eighth-Day grace


Today, I’m flying to Burbank to help my friend Tim’s son, Joe, move up to Washington. I’m in Sea-Tac airport right now.

This past week, we had two separate house guests, Adrien and Ari, each of whom gave us what many would consider minimal (or even insufficient) notice that they were coming. I say “notice” rather than “request” because I would welcome each if them if they gave me ten minutes’ notice and our house were on fire. To be clear, I had given previous–and evidently successful–open door policy to both. Ari dropped me at the airport this morning as she continued on with her travels. I know some people have busier and less flexible lives than we do. But after seven years living in a place where we could rarely see some of the people we dearly love, I consider it a privilege to hear “Hey, I might be at your house in eight hours to stay for a few days. That okay?” It’s more than okay.

Friends are grace.

I don’t deserve my friends. In more cases than I care to describe, I have given my friends reason to give up on me. They haven’t.

Today, I get to help Tim, who has been faithful and supportive when others have been blasé, indifferent, or plain rejected me and us. This isn’t “payback.” This is getting to love a friend who has loved me when I needed it most.

True friends are grace.

I love having friends who live very different lives than I do. I love being part of their lives, even when I can’t always understand their lives. I love getting to live vicariously through their adventures. My friends make my life bigger and more real. My friends help me see the world I’m living in. Of our two friends who just stayed with us, Adrien is an artist and Ari is…an artist, in a very different way. All my friends are artists take it slow.

When I recently posted a humorous comment that I am not an adult, another of my friends, Jake, jumped in and debated, as he tends to, arguing that I am one of the most adult people he knows–as no one has ever argued before. Now the arguments that I’m not-so-very adult are easy to make and involve things like organization and punctuality and willingness to answer the telephone…or own a telephone. When I pick on myself this way, I’m being self-deprecating and taking easy shots at myself. I’m also talking about things I dislike about myself which, were I doing that to someone else, you would call “cruel.”

But, you know, self-cruelty is funny. Right?

This friend argued that “adult” is more about character.

I’m not going to wade further into whether I’m an adult or not. My friend swept aside my self-mocking to call attention to positive and empowering characteristics he recognizes that I offer the world.

Friends. Are. Grace.

I’m not trying to teach you any new insights about friends or friendship with this post. Maybe that will be another series. I’m about to board the plane. Today, I’m reminding you of this simple truth that we “know” but take for granted most days. I’m not taking it for granted today.

Most of what I’ve experienced of God’s love, I’ve experienced through other people.*

Friends are grace.

*I always thought Anne Lamott said that, but I’ve never been able to find the quote…so maybe I said that. If you know the original source, let me know.

Sunday grace


Sunday grace is the grace of rest.

I had planned on leaving it at that and concluding with a seven-word post.

But there is at least one other thing to be said about rest: not all resting is equally restful. Not all down time is equally restorative. We can “take time off” and end up more tired and emotionally drained than when we began.

There is a big difference between resting, escaping, and numbing. (There’s also a big difference between dead and mostly dead. I’ll address that another time.) I suspect this varies with each person, so I will just describe it for myself. There are times when I am tired and what I need most in the world is exercise. I need for my body to move and my mind to stop spinning. Those are not times for me to “rest” by getting online and checking out the latest political happenings. Or I need to move in order to reflect and let God speak. Those are not the times to binge on the latest Netflix offering.

To “recreate” is to re-create. That makes “recreation” much more important than mere “down time.” How do we re-create ourselves? How do we let God re-create us? When we are torn down, when we are dulled down, when we are stomped down, we need re-creation. What re-creates you?

We have to find our own recreation. I love to hike. I love to be in mountains, where I see God, where God speaks to me and reminds me that I was made for more than hunching over a computer.

Sunday grace.

By the seventh day, God rested. God did. God had completed the work of creation and God made that day holy with rest.

A day of rest is holy. Rest is grace.

God commands us to rest. Rest is grace.

What allows you to rest? What do you have to turn off to rest? Do you know when you need to re-create for deeper rest?

Why does God make a specific day holy and say “Come, rest with me?”

Do we receive that grace?

There are, of course, health concerns of overwork and burnout and stress, studies that show how choosing not to rest can compromise or sabotage our immune systems. We have science to back up our need for rest. God knows.

Sunday grace opens us to all other grace. Without Sunday grace, without rest, we still believe that we earn our worth, our acceptance, our love.

Rest, and believe in grace.

Saturday grace


Saturday grace is beautiful grace. Saturday grace can take your breath away. Sunsets that make you stop whatever you’re doing because, for a moment, taking in their beauty becomes the most important thing. A ranch that takes neglected, abused horses and pairs them with neglected, abused children and somehow both, all, are healed. Saturday grace is the kindness of strangers, especially when we’ve screwed up. Saturday grace is that there are still kind souls in this world.

I started this series because I was seeing too much evil and ugly in this world and I can’t make it go away. I can’t pray it away. I could bury my head in the sand or make myself numb, but doing so wouldn’t solve anything nor help either of us. I can point out where hope remains. I can remind myself why we might hope, in spite of all we see and hear. I can change my focus and look for light instead of darkness. So I decided it was time to talk about grace again.

Mountains and oceans and flowers and birds are grace. Music we love is grace. Dancing can be grace. Practicing your art form and feeling that moment–that moment, when it clicks, when you find the elusive “it”–that is grace, a gift from God-Who-Is-Creator who made us co-creators.

Saturday grace is the unmistakeable grace we still see in the world, the grace that anyone with an open heart, regardless of beliefs, must recognize. When we’ve blown off a friend who, instead of guilt-tripping us, shows us extra understanding and offers their support, this is Saturday grace. We sometimes miss grace because we mistake kindness and generosity for what we have coming to us. Saturday grace is that moment when we know we didn’t have it coming.

Martin Luther wrote, “If you could understand a single grain of wheat, you would die of wonder.”

Saturday grace means seeing the world as full of grace. It means not imagining that this is merely what we deserve–which is the opposite of grace–but grasping that this is how much God loves us and this is the love God wants to show us.

Ephesians 3, The Message:

I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God.

In the end, “grace” is a way to say “God loves you, and God’s love in action looks like this.”

And guess what?

Grace is greater than you think it is.

Friday Grace


Are you curious what grace is Friday’s? I’m going to keep you in suspense.

This has been a weird week. Of course, one could make a compelling argument that every week of mine is weird. I’m writing a series on grace. I’ve gotten encouraging responses, several shares and thanks, and had three people unsubscribe. This week. During the grace series. As ever, who reads this and why remains a mystery I will never solve. Each day has gotten fewer reads. Why? Do people need less grace by the end of the week?

Another odd thing about this week: I’ve blocked two people on Facebook. I rarely block anyone and grace week feels a strange time to have done so. I block people who send me hate mail. They didn’t. I simply reached the end of what I could carry with each of them. I take everything personally–in case you thought I’ve been kidding every time I’ve said that here–and certain types of criticism, delivered in certain tones, eat at me. I can’t let them go. So they end up taking a massive toll on me.

With that confession, we’ve arrived at Friday grace. Friday grace is grace for ourselves. Friday grace is that we accept ourselves, even love ourselves, with our limitations.

How is that grace? How is that biblical?

I am imperfect. I fail and fall short in so many ways. I know Jesus and I have a pretty good idea what love should look like in many contexts. The thing I know I should do I do not do, and the very thing I know I should not do, that I do. Sound familiar from somewhere? (Romans or your life, you pick.)

Here’s the crazy thing about God: God is not angry at me for falling short. God is not angry with me even though I know better. God does not condemn me for my failures. There is now no condemnation in Christ. No, I’m not taking that out of context. This is precisely the context. Romans 7 goes into Romans 8, thanks be to God. When we complete Romans 8 we know nothing–nothing–can separate us from the love of God, but remember we began at Romans 7 with my massive failure to do what I should do, even though I know better.

Friday grace is I don’t have to hate myself for being imperfect. Friday grace is that I can learn to love my imperfect self because God loves my imperfect self. Is God still working in me to perfect me? Absolutely. But not in a pissy, putting-up-with-this-for-now, kind of passive-aggressive, withholding-approval-until-you-get-it-right way. And if you don’t understand that description I just gave, I’m describing every single one of us who struggles to love ourselves.

God loves me more than I love me, and Friday grace is it’s okay to love myself like God loves me, with the same grace that God shows me.

That may not be radical for you, but it really might be, too. “Loving yourself” by demanding more and treating yourself harshly until you produce is not grace, certainly not the grace we want to show others, the grace we say–and believe?–God shows us.

Welcome to Friday grace.

Love your neighbor as yourself. You know the grace you have been called to show your neighbor. (“And who is my neighbor?”) That’s the grace God offers you. That’s the grace God gives you to show yourself. From you, to you. You can forgive yourself because God has forgiven you. You can show yourself grace because Jesus has taken your sin to show you grace.

Friday grace. You can choose.

Thursday Grace


Thursday grace is the grace found in sadness and separation and grief.

Thursday grace is recovery grace.

When you watch someone you love die and their death ends their suffering and you say, “Yes, of course I’m sad, but it’s a mercy,” that’s Thursday grace.

Thursday grace is the grace God gives us in suffering, grace that redeems our suffering and allows us to find joy even in the lightless pit, even in our grief.

Thursday grace is not raging-at-God Monday grace. Thursday grace is that God gives meaning to suffering by transforming us through it, even when we have brought that suffering upon ourselves. That’s why Thursday grace is recovery grace.

Thursday grace may be the most miraculous grace of all, at least to our human eyes, because it allows us to be grateful even for our addictions, even for our deepest brokenness. We are grateful not because these are good in themselves, but we come to realize that through them we know Jesus as we never would have without them.

Thursday grace tells us that God never leaves bad things simply to rot in our lives, but always redeems them. Always. Thursday grace reminds us God is our Redeemer.

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers,  nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 8:38-39

This is Thursday grace.

Wednesday Grace


Wednesday Grace is the grace of new beginnings. Wednesday grace is that even though you have never yet succeeded in making this change, you are trying again. Wednesday grace tells us you can, and you should, because there is hope….

There is still hope.

And there is still hope.

Wednesday grace is God forgiving us again. Wednesday grace is how we are like God when we have already forgiven them four hundred and ninety times and they come to us asking a four hundred ninety-first time…and we forgive.

Wednesday grace tells us God is not tired of us, not sick of forgiving us, not weary with our needing help again.

Wednesday grace is the unbelievable news that “God has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west.”

Wednesday grace is that this unbelievable news is true. It’s truer than what you think about your sin. It’s truer than what you think about other people’s sin.

Wednesday grace tells us that God smiles when we show up, every time we show up, even when we’re beating our chests, even when we can’t bear to raise our eyes, and not because God is casual or unconcerned with our sin, but because God knows we have come to the right place with our sin. At last. Matthew 18:

But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other…

Wednesday grace.

Tuesday Grace


Tuesday grace is the grace of ordinary things.

I recently read, “Sometimes miracles are just good people with kind hearts.” That’s the epitome of Tuesday grace. Good people with kind hearts are shot through with grace, but of the kind we often fail to recognize. “‘Just‘ good people?” Good people with kind hearts are a miracle, a tremendous miracle of grace.

Tuesday grace is coffee in the morning without realizing it’s an extravagance, not a necessity. Tuesday grace is a hot shower, without noticing that running water is a luxury.

Tuesday grace is that your dog loves you more than you deserve every day of your dog’s life, because that’s how dogs are wired.

Tuesday grace is the grace that most of us live by most of the time without noticing.

When we do notice Tuesday grace, we live better. We’ve opened our eyes to appreciate and not take for granted this grace that sustains us.

Mercy is deserving but not receiving punishment. The servant in Matthew 18 who owed the master so much money begged for patience, but his master gave him mercy instead, forgiving the impossible debt.

Grace is deserving something negative but instead being given something positive, deserving the consequence of our sin but instead receiving God’s love.

“For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” The law is you get what you “deserve” and punishment comes when you break the law.  Grace came through Jesus. Grace always comes through Jesus.

Tuesday grace is receiving God’s love in a thousand little ways and not even knowing. Tuesday grace is when someone smiles at you.

Breathe in.


Breathe out.