Not What I Expected

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

When I was a kid, I imagined my life differently. While playing with my ‘Kenner Girder and Panel Building Set’®, I fully expected to become an architect. Dropping out of college did not enhance my dream. I never designed nor built any amazing architectural wonders, but I did work in the building trades and learned on-the-job more than I would have likely learned from textbooks. My careers both in Civil Engineering and Architectural Millwork gave me countless opportunities to work with many talented engineers, architects, and designers. And I usually could hold my own with those who possessed much better degrees and pedigrees. Here I was, just a small-town kid from the Midwest who had once played with building blocks making decisions on million-dollar projects. Of course, along the way I had jobs in retail, worked in factories, delivered catalogs, and any number of other jobs just to keep our heads above water. Those jobs taught me humility and patience, but the ‘Kenner Girder and Panel Building Set’® gave me the desire to build some stuff. And given the chance I did.

In the 1960s I loved James Bond movies and ‘The Man from Uncle’ television series. I often imagined someday being an international man of mystery. I had never traveled outside of the Midwest, but I knew given the chance that I could handle a jet-set lifestyle and move easily from one country to another. Years later I was fortunate enough to live and work abroad. It was international and many days were a mystery mainly because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I wasn’t as dashing as 007 but I witnessed things beyond my comprehension, mastered things I didn’t know I was capable of learning, and I am richer for the experience. My work associates often carried me through, and we remain friends to this day.

Parenthood was always part of my plan. I assumed I would be a dad like the ones I saw on T.V. as a kid. Kind of a cross between Ward Clever, Steven Douglas, and Ozzie Nelson. You know, one of those dads who came home from work (although no one ever really knew what he did), put his feet up, and read the newspaper, waited for dinner, and then solved any problems the kids had. I would wrap everything up neatly in 30 minutes. The reality of parenthood has been much more challenging and rewarding. I changed diapers, gave baths, read bedtime stories and said prayers. Later it was helping with homework, scouting, sporting events and the praying continued especially when teaching teenagers how to drive. Sleepless nights worrying about finances were accompanied by weary days of teenage angst and more prayer. As time marched on so did parenthood. There were graduations, college, military service, marriages and grandchildren. So much to worry about. So much to do. So much to celebrate. Ward Clever never seemed as exhausted as I sometimes felt, but I doubt he ever felt the joy and pride that I have thanked God for each day.

Marriage. I remember those movies where the hero would win the girl. He usually would sweep her off her feet. They might start out as adversaries or at least disinterested parties. Sometimes they couldn’t stand each other until some pivotal moment when they magically “fell in love”. It was often a surprise to both of them. How romantic! And I did fall in love, but not in the magical “I hate you but now I love you” movie way. More in the “I like everything about you” way, but mostly in the “I like me better when I’m with you” way. Our marriage is one of two nearly complete opposites who somehow make each other better every day. I never imagined marriage to be like this. I’m all “hurry-hurry let’s get this done” and she’s all “let’s slow down and smell the flowers.” I’m tall. She’s small. I’m impatient. She’s patient (even after all these years). Through the years we have learned that differences are not detrimental to a successful relationship. In fact, just the opposite. My wife and I complement one another. We fill in each other’s voids. We carry one another when necessary. We pray together. And the yoke is easy, and burden is light.

God has blessed me. My life is not what I had expected. It is more; so much more. Filled with adventure and tedium. Filled will joy and sorrow. Filled with certainty and doubt. Filled with achievement and disappointment. Filled with big moments and quiet times. Filled with friends and loneliness. Filled with laughter and tears. But always, always filled with unexpected love.

Peace,

Denis

Put Me in Coach

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Someone once told me that there are three types of people:

  • People who make things happen.
  • People who watch things happen.
  • And people who say, “What happened?”

Too often I have found myself in that third group. Not even aware of what is going on around me. Perhaps my ‘head in the sand’ attitude is a coping mechanism or maybe I’m just obtuse. Either way, it’s not a great way to live. I try to be aware of what’s going on in my community, my country, my world, but I feel sometimes that I am bombarded with information. And sorting truth from fiction is challenging to say the least. Which news source is reliable? Which social media outlet is trustworthy? Which friends and neighbors are well-informed and honest? At times it seems everyone has an agenda, so I shut down and shut it all out and find myself asking, “What happened?”

Then I spend time with my role models, and I realize I can make things happen. Maybe not grand things or important things, but I can be a positive change in my world. A ripple. A moment. A witness.

My grandson plays baseball. He’s one of the smaller kids on his team. He’s not a power hitter. But he plays with so much heart. He gets out there every game and gives it his all. I was always too timid to play sports as a kid. Fear of injury. Fear of failure. Fear of ridicule. But Noah swings that bat with such determination. He fields, he steals bases, he contributes to his team in a positive way. He’s blessed to have a great coach and equally blessed to have parents who remind him to listen to his coach. He gets better with every trip to the plate. And I am reminded that if Noah makes things happen, I can to!

My granddaughter recently made her First Communion. She worked hard this past year to learn about the sacrament and to prepare herself. She had some apprehension on the day she received. I’m not certain if she was afraid of the pomp and circumstance of the day or if she was not sure about the change she might feel after receiving Jesus for the first time. Was she concerned about a misstep or a forgotten word or gesture? Or was it just that her new shoes were a little slippery and wearing a veil and a fancy dress felt a bit overwhelming? Regardless she made it down the aisle and appeared angelic and lit up the church with her smile. It was accomplished. She was received. And for a moment we all shared in that glimpse of heaven before us. I know if Gwen could overcome her fear, I can to!

When I look at these two, I am reminded of the blessings I have received in this life. I’m not gifted. I’m not wealthy. I’m not terribly bright. But I have the ability to make things happen. In my small way, I can be a force for good. I can do the right thing. I can work for justice by voting for persons of integrity. I can volunteer to help those in greater need than my own. I can listen. I can pray. I can act.

And I’m going to keep swinging that bat and walking down that aisle until I get it right.

Who knows? Maybe someday I can make a ripple; have a moment; be a witness.

Peace,

Denis

Really? Me???

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

There have been more than a few times in my life when I have questioned why I have been chosen for something. Some job? Some challenge? Some blessing?

It feels like yesterday that I watched my bride walk down the aisle and I vividly remember thinking it was all too good to be true. I was more than a little afraid that she might turn around and bolt out of the church like some scene in a bad sitcom. It was that mixed feeling of thrill and terror that has often been my companion on this journey of life. Looking at my newborn son with such joy and pride and absolute panic. Turning to my wife, as she held him in her arms in the front seat of our 1977 Pinto, I asked, “What do we do now?” “I don’t know, just drive”, wasn’t exactly the answer I was looking for.

Somehow jumping into the deep end has been a recurring theme for me (us). I don’t necessarily recommend the “just close your eyes and jump” philosophy as a stable or pragmatic life plan but it’s afforded us some adventures along the way.

I’ve had plenty of jobs that required ‘on the job training’ not because the employer offered it, but because I convinced them that my skill set met their demands and then I just faked it until I knew what I was doing. I may have learned that from my father. Speak with confidence. Carry yourself with dignity. And somehow the rest will follow (hopefully). It made my career. Thanks Dad!

I clearly remember 12 years ago, Deb and I sitting in a pub in our village in England and laughing because as couple of small-town Midwestern knuckleheads, “we had no business working and living abroad”. Later I spent years managing a team in Mexico City with a little more than a child’s command of Spanish but gifted with a team who carried me on the most amazing experience (Estaré en deuda contigo para siempre).

So, now I’m a ‘Partner in Mission’ (a lay associate) with the Sisters of the Most Precious Blood of O’Fallon, Missouri. The Sisters are a vowed religious order dedicated to service to God and community. I’m just a guy who struggles with remembering to always say “grace” at meals. Once again, I’m learning on the job. The Sisters and other Partners show me the way.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to be super-holy to be a Partner. I still cuss and lose my temper. And I behave like a jackass from time to time. Many of the Sisters and Partners, I have come to know, are saints in my opinion and they still welcome me. In a world full of narcissists and bullies they are models of humility and kindness that I desperately need.

Being a Partner isn’t all rosaries and quiet contemplation. It’s not some mysterious club that requires knowledge beyond my ability. It’s action. It’s example. It’s involvement. It’s joy. It’s life! My simple prayers work. My weak attempts at being a better person suffice. Knowing that there is plenty room for self-improvement, I’m once again ‘jumping into the deep end’ with the secure knowledge that someone will throw me a line (if needed). And a little bit of ‘why me?’ surfaces from time to time to just to keep things interesting.

Peace,

Denis

Anna’s Star Shines

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

I would like to tell you that my granddaughter is growing up too fast but that wouldn’t be true. She’s growing up as she should. I’m the one struggling to keep up. It seems like just yesterday Anna was born, but in reality, it was nearly 16 years ago that she arrived and changed my world forever.

I’m an easy mark because her three-year-old cousin Charlise had already captured me, body and soul, so I wasn’t sure how Anna was going to fit into my life. But there she was all wrinkly and pink and wet with tears (and other stuff). She carved a spot in my heart that only she can fill. And she still fills it every time I see her face or hear her voice. I am madly, deeply in love with this beautiful creature, who when I first took her tiny hand in mine, completely wrapped me around her little finger.

I’ve had the honor of standing on the sidelines or watching from the audience as she fills the room or field or gym or theater with her style, grace and charm. I’ve shared quiet moments enthralled with her ability to capture and embrace the subtlety and the majesty of God’s creation. I’ve often been afforded a front row seat in her transformation from a questioning child full of wonder and delight to a “Woman of The Word” with a steadfast commitment to making this world a better place for each of us. Her effervescence, her joyfulness and her playful spirit are only matched by her intelligence, her determination, and her courage. It’s easy to say that she is beautiful, because indeed she is. But her beauty is more than what we see on the outside. She radiates a kind of beauty that comes from an old soul. Anna feels deeply; gives freely; loves unconditionally.

I sometimes reminisce about baby Anna or preschool Anna or middle school Anna and those are warm, tender memories, but the Anna that I know today is one that lets me see into the future. Her vision, her strength and her compassion are far beyond her years.

I have no doubt that she will be successful in all that she chooses to do. The fact that she is an honor student and leader in her school community is a preview of what her adult life will hold. Her ability to embrace new challenges and turn them into opportunities is a testament to her character. After enduring multiple surgeries a few years ago, she has now excelled at climbing and fearlessly scales walls, mountains and hillsides with aplomb. Anna is a faith-filled and giving young woman who serves others with joy, grace and humility.

My prayer is that I can stick around long enough to see how the rest of world will be changed by her, while I bask in the delight of knowing that my world has already been changed. I also pray that she occasionally looks back and remembers wrapping my hand and heart around that little finger…

Peace & (Love),

Denis (Granddad)

Offer It Up

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When I was a kid, and I had an ache or pain or was dealing with some perceived injustice, my mom would tell me to, “Offer it up for the poor souls in purgatory”. Those weren’t exactly the words of comfort that I was hoping for. Regardless of what she was saying, I often heard, “Suck it up, buttercup.” And I’m not certain that the poor souls in purgatory ever received any relief from my prayers of self-pity.

Mom was probably just tired of hearing complaints from all of us, but she taught me three things with her wisdom: First – pray; prayer always helps. Second – quit whining; nobody likes a bellyacher. Third – There is always someone in this world dealing with more pain than I am/was.

I often still find myself grumbling about something/someone/sometime that I must endure. Some disappointment. Some irritation. Some burden. When I find myself in those situations, I can clearly hear Mom’s voice: “Offer it up!” And I try. And try again. And again.

Usually, it’s my friends on this journey of life who make me realize how ridiculous my bitching and moaning is compared to their circumstances. So, after a few moments (days) of self-pity I remember to pray and thank God for the gifts I have and the witness of these friends with which I am blessed.

A dear friend is recovering from a post-operative infection which has slowed her recovery and sidelined her work life but has not diminished her spirit. An indefatigable young mother who I know is battling cancer. She is the strongest and most positive person I know and is using her own battle as a model for others. A friend of nearly 50 years takes her struggle with MS in stride (literally – as each step is painful) and she continually gives to others until it hurts. These are my heroes.

I needn’t look much further to find other friends, neighbors and acquaintances dealing with any number of challenges. The pain from accidents, illness, violence, unemployment, and grief can be overwhelming and can potentially destroy our spirits. Still, these individuals carry on. They pick up the pieces and make the best of what life has handed them. More heroes.

I know that some pain cannot be prayed or wished away. I realize that none of us can be truly prepared for what the future holds. There will likely be heartache and unbearable sadness but there will also always be a shoulder to lean on. There will always be a hand to hold. There will always be someone to dry your tears. There will always be love.

And perhaps the best way to “offer up” my pain/my disappointment/my bad day is to be the shoulder, the hand holder, tear-dryer, and the lover when I can.

Peace,

Denis

For it is in giving that we receive – Francis of Assisi

Catholic Sisters Week

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We’ve all heard the stories (some of us have told them) about when a nun hit some innocent across the knuckles with a ruler in a classroom. We’ve heard about Sisters who were stern. Sisters who were mysterious and terrifying. Of course, in the 1940’s, 1950’s and 1960’s public school kids were getting thumped by their teachers, too. So, I take those stories with a grain of salt. I’m not condoning abuse. I’m just saying it was not unique to Catholic Schools and some of the stories may have little to do with reality. On the other hand, if I had 45 kids in one classroom…

Many of us grew up with almost cartoonish images of Catholic Sisters. Who doesn’t remember the television show “The Flying Nun”? Sally Fields careening through the skies because her bizarre headgear could make her airborne in order to save the day (in a comedic way, of course). And the movies: “The Singing Nun” about the nun who recorded the chart-topping song “Dominique” as played by Debbie Reynolds (try to get that song out of your head); “Sister Act” gives us a disguised nightclub performer Whoopie Goldberg who saves the church and the community; Mary Tyler Moore in “Change of Habit” was no more believable as a nun than Elvis was as the doctor with whom she was smitten. My personal favorite is Rosalind Russell as the tough but loving Mother Superior in “The Trouble with Angels”. The list goes on…

On my Aunt Gene’s lap – a happy place to be.

As charming as some of those shows may have been, they have nothing to do with my reality of Catholic Sisters. I was blessed to be born into a family of Catholic Sisters. My great aunt, three of my aunts, and seven of my Mom’s cousins were Sisters. Most of them were Sisters of the Most Precious Blood of which I am a proud lay member today. As a child, my aunts loved me and will remain in my heart forever. They were women who embraced lives of service to others while being role models to their many nieces and nephews. As a student, the Sisters who taught me, encouraged me to reach beyond my limited capabilities. Sister Fidesta was at times my adversary, but she never gave up on me. She made me do better, when adequate would have been enough for me. I will never forget wild and crazy Sister Thecla who inspired my love of drafting and architecture which enabled me in my career.

Catholic Sisters Week has been celebrated in March for the last ten years during Women’s History Month. We honor religious Catholic women and remember Catholic sisters that have passed away. Today as a Partner in Mission with the Most Precious Blood Sisters, I have experienced firsthand the love, the service and the dedication of the Sisters. My Sister friends and fellow Partners in Mission continually model compassion, patience, and forgiveness. I’m still a work in progress.

This week while you’re scrolling through countless social media posts about politics or the Oscars or politics at the Oscars, I encourage you to google Catholic Sisters Week. If you are blessed to have a friend or a member of your family or a teacher that is or was a Catholic Sister, thank them and thank God for them.

Peace,

Denis

Renewal

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We’re in the process of having the interior of our house painted. It’s time for a refresh; a redo; a renewal. The change will be subtle. Most folks won’t even notice the change. Just another shade of gray in my color-blind world. But it will be fresher, brighter, and encourage other changes. Newly painted walls will likely require some new artwork, and possibly some new furniture and home decor.

Funny how life is like that. Not funny to my bank account but funny how one simple change sparks many additional changes as well. Lent is a time for renewal, too. I can fast and pray and do penance but most of the change, like our new paint job, will be subtle and likely unnoticed by others. Still, it’s good a time for me to refresh my shades of gray. And doing it without unnecessary attention is exactly as it’s meant to be. I can accept the changes in my heart and spirit, however modest they may be, and I can embrace the requirements that accompany those changes. Even if they are imperceptible. Maybe especially because they are imperceptible.

“When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.” Matthew 6:5-6

Spring is a time for renewal. The darkness and cold of winter give way to budding flowers and more hours of sunshine. My discouragement and frustrations can be carried more easily when I realize that there is hope in Christ. Lent fits nicely with this time of renewal. It’s a perfect time to be perfected in His love. I can clear away the cobwebs. I can throw open the shutters. I can add a new coat of paint to my weary soul. I can renew my spirit and accept the fact that if I want change in my world it must begin in my own heart.

Peace,

Denis

I Don’t Want To…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

I have a plaque in my office that reads, “LOVE GOD. LOVE OTHERS.” Sometimes it brings me great comfort. It reminds me of the friend who gave it to me, which brings a smile to my heart. It helps me remember to be kind. To love.

But honestly, sometimes it annoys me with its sanguine message. Often it challenges me. I don’t want to love others. Most days, I want to be angry, cynical and self-righteous. Love others? Even that obnoxious checker at The Neighborhood Walmart? The kid next door with the diesel truck rumbling at 5:30 AM? The lady at Mass on Sunday who informed me that she didn’t want any children sitting next to her, as I was trying to usher a family to their pew? My political adversaries? The guy at The Home Depot who couldn’t manage to control his dog from getting too friendly with my backside? Bad drivers? I don’t want to love any of those “others”!

As often happens, I stop and realize how foolish I am. As I reflect on my pride and stubbornness and a God who forgives me, I know that I can and must love others, even those annoying so-and-sos. Because many of them have loved me. And God always loves me even when I fail to love in return.

For years we have laughed about the time our grandson Noah, who was three or four years old, didn’t want to wear a collared shirt because in his tearful words, “I don’t want to be fancy!”. He didn’t want to get dressed up for whatever the occasion. He wanted to stay in his play clothes. He didn’t want to be stifled. He wanted to stay in his comfort zone. Getting “fancy” was going to challenge his very existence. You can’t run or throw a ball or tumble on the ground in a collared shirt. Despite his protests, he indeed wore that shirt and somehow, he survived it all. In truth, I would have caved in and let him wear what he wanted but his parents taught him a lesson that day. One that I am struggling to learn.

So today, I will try again to love others. It’s easy to love my family and friends. It’s easy to love those who share my values and my beliefs. It’s easy to love people in need who I see on the news or on social media. They’re distant and untouchable. It’s easy to love people through donations to charitable organizations. I’m shielded from their pain and suffering.

The tough ones to love are the family across the street who don’t keep their yard tidy; the lady who runs the red light; the Congressman who refuses to answer my emails; the person who pushed in front of me at the checkout counter; the family member who I no longer speak to because of political differences; the woman who loudly used profanity in a very crowded public place. And the man that I sometimes see in the mirror.

“I don’t want to…” But I’m trying. Loving others might make me uncomfortable at times. It certainly will push me out of my comfort zone. Loving those with whom I disagree doesn’t mean I have to abandon my beliefs. It might just free me to love more deeply, even if I shed a few tears in the process.

Thanks for the lesson, Noah.

Peace,

Denis

Remember When Valentine Was a Saint?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Growing up I celebrated Saint Valentine’s Day. Somewhere along the way it just became Valentine’s Day. I’m not sure why, maybe it was a concerted effort to eliminate all that is good and holy from our world or to brainwash us into buying Hallmark® cards. More than likely it’s just a harmless derivative of what once was a Catholic feast day honoring a saint whose very existence is in dispute. Generally, it is believed that Valentinus was a Roman priest martyred during the reign of Claudius II for aiding and marrying Christian couples (hence the romantic connection). But several Valentines are mentioned in early Christian history and many legends surround the name.

St. Valentine

Whether Valentine was a legend, or a saint doesn’t have much bearing on how we celebrate February 14th today. Valentine’s Day is a day for lovers. Whether it’s a new romance or a time-tested marriage; whether it’s the celebration of love between parents and their children or the love we share with our dear friends; it’s a good day to say, “I love you”.

For me, my wife Deb is my Valentine. She’s the one that stands by me through thick and thin. She is my leaning post, my rock, my partner, my inspiration and my joy. She is the one that gives meaning to my life – she is my lifetime Valentine. If some red roses and a romantic meal together will show her how much her love means to me – it’s a small price to pay.

Some folks might bemoan the fact that the ‘Saint’ has been taken out of Valentine’s Day, but I think that Valentine cards and heart-shaped boxes of candy are as harmless as bunnies at Easter. And maybe, just maybe, it’s better to honor the saints living among us than some saint from antiquity.

We can love one another everyday but I believe that Valentine’s Day is a good day to love a little more. Hug those that are close to you just a little bit tighter. Kiss your partner with a little more passion. Send a note to someone you’ve neglected. Call a friend just to say hello. Put yourself out there. Smile at a stranger. Offer a kind word to someone you meet. Risk your pride. Reach across the aisle. Mend a quarrel. Carry a load. Take a chance. Change your mind. Change your heart. Make peace. Love God. Love others.

Peace (and Love)

Denis

Faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love.          

Aging Gracefully (or At Least Trying)

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

Society seems to be obsessed with youth. Slogans like ‘Sixty Is the New Forty’ attempt to convince us that we are still young regardless of our age. Afterall, if 60 is the new 40, then 80 should be the new 60 and 100 should be 80. We are bombarded with advertisements for anti-aging lotions, hair dye, vegetable supplements, weight loss programs and Botox injections. Not to mention the medication to improve our memory and hearing aids so we can better hear the commercials informing us about what we need to stay young. Aging is inevitable, so why not do it with grace and dignity. I’m trying…

Of course, one could argue that if 60 is the new 40, then 30 is the new 15, which may explain why our neighbors’ 30-something children, who are still living at home, have failed to launch. I remember that I couldn’t wait to reach the milestone ages of 16 and 21 and 30. Even 40 was fun-ish. I look at my neighbors in amazement and think about my life as a 30-year-old: married, three kids, full-time jobs, mortgage debt and car payments, utilities, school tuition, etc., etc. I wouldn’t trade those hectic (borderline manic) years for anything! We didn’t think much about the future back then. Our life was day to day. We survived and our children thrived. We were never rich, but we were never really poor. Our blessings weren’t monetary. Our riches were friendship, faith and family.

I must admit that my physical aches and pains are more frequent as the clock continues to tick. My hair is white. My waistline is expanding. But I don’t feel much different than I did at 40. I have the luxury of a less hectic life now as I contemplate the future. I’m about a year away from 70 and there was a time when that seemed really old. Now I look at my friends who are in their 80’s and 90’s who have so much left to do; so much more to share. I’m personally waiting for the wisdom which is supposed to come with old age because I have some things to accomplish as well. I suppose I must get older because wisdom continues to elude me.

A dear friend shared this scripture with me recently and I’ll admit we shared a chuckle about the loss of hair color:

Rejoice, O youth, while you are young and let your heart be glad in the days of your youth. Follow the ways of your heart, the vision of your eyes. Yet understand regarding all this that God will bring you to judgment. Banish misery from your heart and remove pain from your body, for youth and black hair are fleeting. Ecclesiastes 11:9-10

Youth is fleeting! Embrace life at all ages; let your heart be glad! Sometimes I see my dad’s reflection in the mirror, and it hits me that I really am a senior citizen. Embracing life at this age can be challenging, banishing misery from my heart and removing pain from my body isn’t that easy.

But here’s my solution: Memories. I have a lifetime of memories. Some are melancholy but most are beautiful. Many are sublime. They carry me to precious moments in time. Seeing my bride walk down the aisle; the smell of sweet baby milk-breath on our infant children; watching with pride and uneasiness as our kids grew up and moved on; holding on to our loved ones as they passed from this world to the next. Those memories sustain me. That’s the beauty and grace of growing older. The older we get the more memories we have. The more memories we have, the more grace we are afforded.

I want my grandchildren to follow the ways of their hearts and the vision of their eyes and to create memories that will last their lifetimes. Recently my wife and I were reminiscing about days gone by and I realized it’s truly a gift that the happy memories make the sad ones tolerable. Gratitude outweighs regret. Love conquers all. I’ll take the wrinkles and the white hair and all the rest as long as they are served up with cherished memories while I have my partner at my side. Right here. Right now.

Peace,

Denis