Newstart

Uninvited, my guest was waiting for me when I finally opened my eyes at 7 am. My wife and I celebrated the arrival of the New Year with some friends, so I knew I would sleep a little late. And I knew it was possible for my usual New Year’s Day guest to arrive, but I had pushed the very thought out of my mind, saying, to myself, “Not this year.”

I shuffled into the kitchen for my morning ritual of grinding beans and starting the addictive I.V.-drip of coffee. From the bay window came sufficient light, filtered by the pine trees, to keep me from having to flip on the recessed spots overhead. Then I glanced around, half-smiled to myself, and thought, “Well, you showed up anyway.” Smugly, but lightly dancing on the morning rays was the little sprite Newstart, which before I could blink, leapt and raced along my optic nerve, slipping defiantly into my frontal lobe.

Logically, there’s no reason a change of calendars should elicit resolves to improve or initiate changes. The package of responsibilities, habits, and necessary tasks you set down on December 31 is the exact same load waiting to be shouldered the next morning. And yet, barefooted and unshaven in the kitchen, I actually felt something different. I felt a Newstart within me, and before I could clobber my thoughts with cynicism, I was entertaining a list of goals for the new year. The most disgusting aspect of it all was my reluctant admission that the feeling, full of possibility and hope, had “rightness” written all over it.

With the bitter warmth of the coffee finally pushing me into alertness, I began looking for some compromise. I was determined not to be lured by the tradition list of resolutions, those tramps that smile seductively promising to be your savior right before they morph into spectral stalkers. But something was needed. Newstart had dug in, pinging my synapses with that fresh feeling I could not, and honestly would not, shake off.

So I have resolved that my resolution this year will be to keep Newstart with me. I’m not sure how I will accomplish this, but I plan to greet Newstart in my daily morning rituals. This morning Newstart was my uninvited gift, but I know most mornings, perhaps even tomorrow’s, I’ll have to hunt for her. I have a sense of the places to look, readings and reflections, prayers and perspectives, yoga and yogurt, to name a few. The important thing I suppose, is to own the search. And with practice, maybe I can prompt others to find her as well.

Hit and Run or Not

"We saw your car get hit," were the words that greeted me at the church's Family Night Supper. I had just come out of a meeting and immediately I envisioned my Nitro, which I'd left parked on the street, rear-ended, and felt the adrenaline rush into my blood stream.

Turns out that the couple greeting me with such kindness were nursery workers this past Sunday and watched out the window as an elderly gent pulled in front of my parked car, and backed right into it. He didn't hit it hard, they said, but he never looked back. After he bumped into my front bumper, he pulled forward a bit, parked, got out and went on his way.

It's hard to keep from rushing ahead of the facts when you're hit with the unexpected, but I sure am glad I waited for the rest of the story before dashing out of the Fellowship Hall to "see the damage." Now, if I can just remember to do that when I have hit and runs with personalities!

Small Hinges

At an out of town meeting the other day I briefly encountered a fellow blogger in a group of ministers, and his greeting was even briefer. I remember his smile, but not his words exactly. It was something about the fact that neither he nor I had been blogging during February.

It was just a passing observation, nothing incriminating, nor particularly encouraging. And yet, it was that encounter more than anything that got me back to blogging. Interesting, isn’t it, how things turn on small hinges - chance encounters, an acknowledgment, or the recognition of a fellow pilgrim?

So, I’ve thought about today, not the meetings or conversations, but the brief encounters. I wondered if I left any encouragement in my wake as I passed by. That woman in the hospital elevator who looked so tired. I noted her weary eyes, but mine didn’t reveal anything in response. Blew that one.

But at the quick stop, when I bought the diet sprite, the woman in front of me wanted a pack of cigarettes and then two lottery tickets. The girl checking us out seemed conscious of the small line forming behind me, but we caught eyes and I said, “It’s OK, no rush,” and her eyes did smile back. Could that have been a hinge, maybe?

A New Kind of Resolution

Have you ever moved and a few weeks later gone crazy looking for something? Sure you have. You know. You remember seeing it. You’re sure you knew where it was. But when you go to get it, well, nothing.

That’s basically how it’s been inside my brain these past two weeks. I sit down to write and that idea I just remember seeing cannot be found. I kinda poke around in the clutter and just as I start to get interested in something, another “task” calls me away.

This time however, I’ve got one by the hind legs. It’s just a simple thought, but I’m not letting it go. It will be written, given an amateur taxidermist treatment and mounted on this blog.

It has to do with resolutions. This is the time to write about that, isn’t it? Well, ever notice that nearly all resolutions are self-directed? We resolve in one way or another to improve ourselves. Lot of good in that, even if they’re only kept for a short while. But, what if you’re tired of working on yourself and you want to try something new?

This year, my resolutions are not designed to improve myself at all. This year I’m going to improve others! Yep. It’s time to put my energy where it will make a difference. I figure if I make those around me a little better, I’ll enjoy my world a whole lot more. It’s like the saying, “the rising tide raises all the ships.”

The benefits of re-directing your resolutions are amazing. It doesn’t take nearly as much personal effort, so you’re less likely to give up on it. And, if the improvements don’t show up as you expect, well, you really can’t lay the blame on yourself. After all, you’ve done what you could with what you had to work with.

There’s only one glitch. If my friends really do improve themselves, they might want a new friend, maybe even one who isn’t a pain in the resolutions. Oh well.

.

Man sleeping on tracks hit, killed

The following brief online article caught my eye, and then my heart while I ate lunch. And so I wrote in response...



An unidentified man was struck and killed by a train about 6:30 Thursday night near South Washington Street, according to Kylie Strange, a Greenville County deputy coroner. Strange said the train engineer saw a man sleeping on the tracks and tried to stop. However, the train ran over the man, she said. Strange said there is no reason at this point to suspect foul play. An autopsy will be performed today, she said. By Nan Lundeen, Greenville News Staff Writer, 19 December 2008


Those Who Sleep on Tracks

Christmas will still be the same without you.
But that’s something you probably knew all along.
It didn’t really matter where you were,
Or if you were, for us to sing our Silent Night.

But someone will remember, the conductor perhaps:
A sleeping body, the sighting, and particularly the impotence,
To stop the rolling steel of heedless freight cars -
Much less the growing egomania of heedless hearts.

Oblivious to the warning of the train’s blasting horn,
We’ll stumble in a stupor along the tracks of ease
Celebrating the Christ-child’s coming as always we’ve done;
Never realizing he was lying there beside you, to keep you warm.

.

Show Some Respect, How 'Bout It

So, this is not a sports blog obviously, but the news yesterday of Coach Tommy Bowden “stepping down” as the head coach of our Clemson Tigers was welcomed by me. Aside from the discussions of Bowden’s strengths and weaknesses as a head coach, it has looked all this season as though his heart was no longer in what he was doing. His pre-game statements set the stage for under-achievement, and post-game, win or lose, he seemed passive.

Apparently when confronted by Athletic Dir. Terry Don Phillips, he offered to resign (with his buyout in tack of course) and left with a positive, grateful statement about Clemson. I applaud his class act in his departure.

Now on to the public statement by quarterback, Cullen Harper, who stated, “He got what he deserved.” This should have been written off as an immature statement by a player who had just been benched, instead of being included in most of the sports columns. But glancing through some of the column comments, a lot of us have the same immaturity in making snap judgments about others.
Who knows what Coach Bowden deserves or doesn’t deserve? And who knows what QB Harper deserves or doesn’t deserve? Yea, head coaches (and professional athletes) are way-overpaid, so that sets them up for comments about whether they “deserve” their rewards or not. But when it comes to measuring up what happens to people, there’s a lot we don’t know and the best we can do is show respect to one another. In leaving, Coach Bowden showed respect to Clemson. We should to him, and move on.

Kids Take You at Your Word

Early this week I did the chapel for our Day School. I printed a "Lost Dog" poster and took it as my prop. I talked about how we go looking for a lost pet because we love it. I talked about Jesus' story of the shepherd looking for the lost sheep and how God loves us and goes looking for us.

Last night a mom of one of the three-year olds told me she was pleased to report that the children really listen in chapel (something I honestly wasn't sure actually was happening.) She took her kids to the fair and told them they had to stay close to her so they wouldn't get lost. The three-year old said, "It's OK mommy, Rev. Taylor said that if I get lost, God will come looking for me."

Retro 70's

Leaving the hospital at the end of the day yesterday it felt like a 70's flashback as I drove home. Every gas station had long, some extremely long lines for gas. I suddenly wondered if there had been something abnormal on the news, like a terriorist attack again.

What was it? Storm panic. With Hurricane Ike headed into the refinery dense Texas gulf coast, I guess everyone expected a jump in prices, or gap in supply. I heard talk at the JV football game last night that gas prices today would be over $5.00. Customers were limited to 10 gallons of gas and some stations had already raised prices for basic unleaded by 50 cents a gallon. Apparently the panic was centered in Sumter, but did spread to Columbia by evening.

Ah, human nature. Maybe the churches should announce a potential shortage of grace.

Buzzcut

Time for a haircut and I've got a decision to make. Do I keep the buzz cut or let it grow back out? Here's how I got in this situation. Right before our vacation I needed a haircut and was using my beard trimmer to just take a little off around the ears. We bald guys pay attention to what little hair we have.

Cynthia offered to use the trimmer and touch up the back of my head. Great. She took the spacer off the trimmer to clean it and when she put it back on she inadvertently set it to the lowest level - buzz cut. Then she made a swipe right up the back of my head, giving me a reverse Mohawk. Her frantic gasp is what told me something was wrong.

After trying to "patch it up," the girls finally just buzzed the rest of my head. It felt weird for several days, like I was back in the third grade. But it was also nice on vacation because I really didn't have to ever worry about combing my hair. Such a convenience does not go unnoticed with me.

So, Cynthia says she likes it, it's less trouble, and I've found that at my age a chance to feel like a third-grader isn't bad either. Where's the trimmer?

The August Report

OK, who stole August? While I was busy, someone sneaked in and took it. To those who check my blog occasionally, I apologize for the dreary picture of Solzhenitsyn greeting you there for nearly a month!

We did fit in a family vacation - another Taylor adventure for sure with the four of us finding our way around Puerto Rico for a week. Basically stayed in a lovely little beach town called Loquillo where the excitement of the day was playing a Scrabble-like game called Bananagram In other words we sat on the beach or sat in the shade and chilled for several days.

But it wasn't all fun and games. We had to explore a little, which meant hiking to the waterfalls in the rain forest there, and wandering the narrow cobblestone streets of old San Juan. Actually I think what the girls enjoyed was wandering in and out of all the shops.

Then it was back to the rush of things and the laptop has only been used for emails. That is, up until two days ago. That's when my high school senior (hey, how did that happen!) sat down and set me up a Facebook account. I now have social networking identity - I must be a virtually real person. Right now just figuring out the friend connections, so if you Facebook, don't expect a lot of postings from me. Besides, first got to get this blog rolling along again.

So this is Home

Haven't posted in a while. Have thought of things to write, but being on the road and with other stuff to do, just didn't get around to it. Have been at Emory, teaching at the Course of Study again. Great class. We're having a lot of laughs as we look at Worship and the Sacraments.

Got home last night and today moved the last stuff from the old parsonage, mainly plants and outdoor stuff. That's it. It was a good place to live and many things about it, especially the neighborhood, I will miss. So I guess this new place is home, for the time being. I started to write, "being a Methodist minister" it's only temporary, but truth is, it's temporary simply because I'm human.

The good news it that in this depressed housing market we have a buyer for the old parsonage. I was afraid it might stay on the market for months, like many other homes in the old historic district. But someone else will make it their home on August 1st. Would love to go back and see if they can figure a different way to arrange the furniture in that den.

Preached a couple of times this past week in the Cannon Chapel. For one of the services I wrote a "Prayer for our Bodies." The different stanzas were read by different persons throughout the congregation. I'm posting in on my Checked Baggage blog in case anyone is interested - you can link to it here.

Another week of lectures and grading papers ahead and then finally the special events and conferences are over for this year. We do have a week of vacation coming up early August - one I am definitely looking forward to. We planned it out of the country (Puerto Rico) so we can just sit on the beach, read, play Scrabble, sleep, and do nothing for a whole week, without any way to come back for a funeral or whatever!

My Brain is Non-functioning

Sometime last week during the move, my brain ceased to function. I realize that many of my "friends" will immediately respond, "So, how could you tell?" But actually I'm not talking about the one encased in my skull. No, it's more important than that. My brain is my PDA, a Tungsten E2.

My congregation has learned that I depend on the PDA to be my memory. When someone gives me a date for something I've even had them say to me, "Let me see you write it into your PDA, so I'll know you won't forget it."

It took missing during the move and last Friday I located it in my car beside the passenger seat. It wouldn't turn on. I figured it needed charging and so went on a charger hunt. That found, it charged for two days, and still nothing. I did the reset, still nothing. I kicked the tires, still nothing. Charged it again, just in case - nada. I threw it against the wall, still nothing.

And of course, I had not backed it up on my computer in about four months! This one is less than a year old and if I can find the papers on the purchase, maybe it still has a warranty. I love all the technology - when it works! On top of this, the keys on my cellphone have become contrary. Sometimes they work and sometimes they don't (too much text messaging has worn them out, my daughter says). So, I'm wondering, is all this a sign from God that I should finally give in and get a crackberry?

Were You Been Taylor?

I am too tired to do any more packing or work tonight. I realize I haven't posted in a while. So, this is just a mindless update. The movers come early Tuesday morning, and Cynthia leaves tomorrow for a three day meeting at Emory. She has such timing! But she's gotten most of the kitchen stuff done, and yes, a lot of other stuff (that's in case she reads this).

We pack differently. She goes through the items, discards what we haven't used in a while and makes a pile for give-away. I just pile stuff in boxes and haul it over to the new house. I'll have to sort through my stuff as I unpack it. She's a lot smarter than me, but of course that isn't anything new.

The new house the church bought is beautiful and it is going to make a very nice parsonage. Tuesday is also when they recarpet my office at the church. So, most all of my office stuff is sitting in the back of the chapel or out in the hall. I just keep reminding myself that soon we will get settled again.

Went to a nice church dinner at Cynthia's new church today. Met a lot of her members. It seems they are a congregation that likes to have fun together, which is probably a lethal combination with Cynthia's sense of humor.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at our last Conference delegation meeting, preparing for the upcoming Southeastern Jurisdictional Conference. That will take place in a couple of weeks at Lake Junaluska. The big issue is the election of a new bishop. We feel Tim McClendon has an excellent chance of being elected, but who knows how the voting will go until the first ballot results are announced. As a politician once told me, "Not everyone who says they voted for you actually did so." Tim would be a great bishop if elected and I hope others see in him the qualities that led us to nominate him.

In the midst of all this craziness of life, little kindnesses are such energy boosters. I came in tonight and dear member had dropped off sandwiches for us to eat while packing, and another had made my favorite pecan biscotti to munch on. Blessed? Why yes, yes I am.

When life is a mess, and more.

With all that's going on right now - a busy time with our Aldersgate Special Needs Ministry, construction at the church, our Capital Campaign wrapping up, and preparing a new parsonage for moving in and the present one for selling - I walked into my office this morning to find the carpet saturated with oily water! A pipe had not been properly capped off during the replacement of the HVAC plumbing.

Not only that, when the line blew, the water shot up the wall and sprayed all over notebooks and files I had set on a small table to organize by projects. This included a historic album the Archives Committee had brought me to look at! Nothing to do but to call for help, move the furniture into the hall, start wiping up the mess, and send for a water vacuum. Our new secretary said she was impressed that she didn't hear any expletives during all this!

I had thought my church office would be my "sanctuary" of stability during all this moving business. So much for my plans! Today I'll try to sort the essentials into a working cubby until the Trustees get the walls washed down and the carpet replaced. I guess you really can't organize disaster. When life is a mess, you live through it.

Speaking of things in upheaval, this is moving day for pastors in our conference. My prayers today are for these pastors and the churches involved. That group includes my wife, but thankfully, not me. Yet when I got in last night from a late meeting her somber mood reminded me of the difficulty of saying goodby to people you love and with whom you have shared life and ministry. It is tough, and you don't have time to catch your breath, much less grieve. The next day there's a new congregation waiting to greet you.

Next year our Conference moving date will move to the last Wednesday of the month of June, further extending the "lame duck" period. Wish there was a way we could designate the week just before moving as "off duty" for those involved in a move. We could use our Retired Pastors and Lay Speakers to fill the pulpit that last Sunday and handle pastoral emergencies and visits during that week. Better yet, it wouldn't count as vacation.

Moving pastors could use the week as they choose, packing, family time, leisure activities, or whatever would help them make the transition from one flock to another. Perhaps some of the time could be spent in prayer and reflection on the ministry coming to an end, and assessing how to take the lessons learned into the new setting. Time perhaps for cleaning up some of the mess, before living into another one?

An 80 Percenter way of life

Not long ago I came across a quote by Yvon Chouinard that I think resonates well with those of us who have perfectionistic tendencies, you know, that persistent urge to keep pressing on until it's "just right." It's the 80 Percent Rule (hat tip to Thommy Browne at Artifacts)

“I’ve always thought of myself as an 80 percenter. I like to throw myself
passionately into a sport or activity until I reach an 80 percent proficiency
level. To go beyond that requires an obsession and degree of specialization that
doesn’t appeal to me.”

I think the 80 percent rule has a lot of application in ministry. The various skill groups demanded of a pastor require proficiency but because there are so many, it hinders mastery. And we just have to accept the fact that doing the job well calls for being an 80 Percenter.

And it isn't just skills, it also applies to particular projects and expectations. In a day when we have created appetities for "the best" (the best graphics and media, the best sound on our ipods and boise headphones, the best bodies, teeth, and hair, the best in education, and the best in what the church can offer, etc. etc.) is there still a place for the "good enough?"

Polka Dots It Will Be

This afternoon I spoke with one of my elderly members who had surgery today to amputate part of her leg. She's suffered for months with pain and has been in and out of the hospital with circulation problems. Now with the source of the problem removed, her health should improve.

She looked at me as I seated myself beside her bed and said, "Stephen, I've made a critical decision."

"Yes ma'am," I replied, using the manners my momma taught me, and wondering what other critical decision she'd had to make after deciding to have the surgery. "What have you decided?"

"I've decided I want polka-dots on my peg-leg."

Then polka-dots it will be!

Too Many Houses

I don't own a home, but right now I have too many houses on my hands. The Trinity Trustees, after a review of the parsonage earlier this year, decided it was time to buy a newer one. After a special Charge Conference last night, things are moving ahead on the purchase of a beautiful home in a new subdivision.

That means we need to get this home ready for sale, but that's not as simple as it would have been a few weeks ago. Since my wife is changing appointments this year, we have been moving some personal things out of the parsonage at her church so that they can repaint the place and put in new carpeting. The things we moved out we just brought to this parsonage. Now they have to go somewhere else so the Realtors can come in and take photos for the listing. Oh boy.

On top of this, I have two homes to deal with through the Aldersgate Ministry, our ministry for adults with developmental disabilities. One home, in Orangeburg, is completed. So we are working on getting the furniture in and hiring a management group so the four men selected for that home can move in. The other home, in Columbia, is still under construction, and I just learned the contractors put the wrong kind of sprinkler system in it. It has to have a commercial system in the home, so I've got to get that straightened out. This will probably put a 4 to 6 week delay in our plans to open that home, to the dismay of the six women residents greatly anticipating the day they can move in.

It's all nearly enough to drive me crazy, but how can I complain? The church is making sure they have a wonderful home for their minister, we are nearing our ministry goals of providing semi-independent living for adults with developmental disabilities, and my wife no longer has to worry with a parsonage that she only used as a church office. In addition I am aware that so many in our world are homeless.

In the midst of this I recall (with romantic idealism) that when a scribe wanted to follow Jesus, Jesus turned him back saying, "The birds of the air have their nests, but the Son of man has no place to lay his head." (Mt 8) Yes, it is a different world, and it will all get resolved in a couple of months, but right now its just odd to have too many houses on my hands.

In Like a Canine

Yesterday, this March came in like none other, at least for the Taylors. And it brought its own sermon: never make a critical decision in a weak moment, you will pay for it for a long, long time. In my weakened state from my daughter's illness, I said yes to a plea for a puppy from the SPCA. And so, to the chagrin of Pumpkin, our 13 year old miniature Dachshund we now add Cooper to our home.

Well, he is cute.

The Brain Shuts Down

Have been fighting the cold crud this week, and I think it has clearly amassed more delegates than I have. So, while attending to basics of work, the rest of the time there was no mental energy for writing a post - kinda like a perpetual Sunday afternoon gray zone. And here on Friday, the pressure is on.

This coming Sunday is a BIG Sunday for our church. A new children's event has been in the works and promoted, called the D.O.C.K. We already have in place a pretty good rotation Sunday School program that has a different theme, or lesson, every five weeks. What's being added is a high-energy, song and character, stage event set to introduce the kids to the rotation theme.

So, there is a "dock," a lighthouse, a boat, and a puppet character called "Beacon" occupying the Sanctuary this week. D.O.C.K. will take place during the Sunday School time, but I told them to leave the props in place so I could preach from the dock, and let the rest of the church understand what's going on and why. Now the "why" question is, "Why did I set myself up for this?"

I've got several pages of notes, and a couple of good illustrations, but I still fluctuate over the direction of the sermon. Part of me wants to "sell" the new ministry to the older age congregation, and part of me resists using the sermon time in such a blatant way. I left the lectionary and am using Psalm 78:

Give ear, O my people, to my teaching; incline your ears to the words of my mouth. I will open my mouth in a parable; I will utter dark sayings from of old, things that we have heard and known, that our ancestors have told us. We will not hide them from their children; we will tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might, and the wonders that he has done.

He established a decree in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our ancestors to teach to their children; that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and rise up and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments; and that they should not be like their ancestors, a stubborn and rebellious generation, a generation whose heart was not steadfast, whose spirit was not faithful to God.

I know I want to emphasize that teaching our children is as important or arguably, more important, today as is was when the psalm was written. I want to emphasize the crucial need for ministries that engage children and lead them to discipleship. And yet I don't want to pretend to be the "authority" on the dangers children face today or on the exact methods we need to use.

Well, maybe I'm making a mountain out of a mole-hill. But still, it feels like a mountain here on a late Friday afternoon, and I just want a clear head and a few clear thoughts. What was it Jesus said about moving mountains? A little bit of faith? Hummm.....

Top Five for 2007

A couple of weeks ago Gavin Richardson of the Methoblog called for the Methodist bloggers to send in what they consider to be their top five posts for the year. I didn’t do it, in part because I just started blogging this August, and, I just didn’t feel motivated to herald what I thought was tops. But I did think about it.

Reflecting on my blog leads me to say a word of thanks to whoever reads these posts. Thanks for dropping by. And I especially appreciate those who have taken time to leave comments. You’ve encouraged me. At times I’ve been ready to stop, realizing I’m just putting my egotistic ravings out for display. And then a comment lets me know someone is out there, or Joseph leaves another humorous statement, or new responses show up as in a dialogue, and I think I’m not alone in my crazy musings. So, thank you sincerely.

And now back to my top five. What I thought about was not postings, but my top five experiences this past year, which I connected with places. By stopping to think, and write, about them, I realize how immediate pressures can make you forget a lot of blessings.

1. Israel. Cynthia and I got to travel this time with our girls, and some dear friends. Always good to tour Israel, but this time filled with lots of good fun, like hiking over ruins, being offered 200 camels for one of my daughters (!), swimming in the Dead Sea and dancing in Jericho.
2. Scotland. Backpacking across the beautiful country, meeting Scotts at hostels and on the road, and living and worshipping at Iona – mind expanding extended leave.
3. Annual Conference. (Weird, huh?) But both our girls were there as delegates, both addressed the Conference, and seeing Kelsey get elected as a teenager to General Conference was super. Plus, receiving the confidence of peers to send me back as a delegate was both affirming and humbling.
4. Isle of Palms. Seeing our eldest, Lauren, settle into the groove of her new job there as Director of Youth and Children’s Ministries at First Methodist - makes a proud Dad happy.
5. Sumter. Lot happened this year – finishing renovations to open a major section of the Trinity Lincoln Center (an old high school) to house the Boys and Girls Clubs, implementing Natural Church Development goals and creating the Wayfinders ministry, getting the Men’s Bible Class to remove a certain controversial flag, changing the chapel appearance and beginning Mosaic worship, the church’s first construction team mission trip, and a passel of people/ministry moments.

Any such list is incomplete, leaving out the bad and the ugly, and a lot of other good. But this is the one I’ll stick with now, reminding me of many blessings, and how fortunate I am to serve as an Elder in our great church. Glad I stopped to consider a top five.