Author: Jackie

Auntie, school teacher, serving God wherever He calls me.🤍 "Will you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you? Pray that I might have the grace to let you be my servant, too."

Boxes

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I have never liked them.

People have always told me I have a very large box.

I’ve always liked to think outside of the box.

I don’t like square or even numbers, because, well… I don’t really have a good reason, but odd numbers just always have a better ring to them than box-like, rigid, square numbers.

But regardless of how I feel about boxes, lately they are creeping into my life.

We’ve been saving boxes, and just now I put a reminder in my phone to bring boxes to school tomorrow.

This afternoon I opened my desk drawers that have held a wild assortment of things for the past few years… and I organized those things into the dreaded boxes.

My desk is slowly being emptied, and it no longer looks familiar inside.

Soon the walls of my classroom and every one of the cabinets and shelves will follow suit, with no trace left of my things.

With the arrival ofthe boxes, my teaching career is going to get packed up and carried out the door to make space for the person who will take on my role here next year.

I wish that were the end of my experience with boxes, but they’re not going to leave me just yet.

The same thing has been happening right in my house.

I am throwing out worn out socks, donating rarely-worn clothing to the thrift store, and in general, organizing everything I own…

And this sorting and trashing and minimizing of my wardrobe is all in preparation to put my personal possessions into… more boxes.

Said boxes will then be loaded into my unsuspecting car, and I will drive several hundred kilometers to the place I’ll begin my next season of life.

I have 86 days left to get everything done… there are a lot of boxes left on my to-do list to get checked off before I’m ready to move and begin my term of VS.

And every one of these boxes are taking over my comfortable life and screaming “change” at me in undeniable truth!

Something in me that longs for stability is rebelling at the unsettled feeling every box of things creates, even as I keep packing items into them.

It’s not that I don’t want to go. I do. I’m genuinely excited about the opportunity God is calling me to, and can hardly wait to start serving Him there!

But I am looking forward to a time about 6 months from now, when the boxes are all unpacked, moving day is a few months in the past, and I’m settled into my life there.

I’m ready to move on… I’m ready to get started in the next season… it’s the leaving and the starting that’s hard on my heart.

I know God will fill the next season with good things. He called me there and will equip me with grace for every change. I know He will be my Faithful, Unchanging Guide every step of the way.

It’s simply this transition season that I dislike. And the boxes, simply for symbolizing every bit of change that’s happening all around me!

Even though I was praying for an open door to move forward into something new, and was so excited to step out in faith, now that school’s almost out I’m realizing something.

I’ve been pretty comfortable here… more than I ever knew… here in my predictable little box.

And maybe, I like being in a box – at least somewhat – much more than I thought.

Bittersweet Endings

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I sit at my desk, attempting to grade language tests, and my mind keeps wandering.

The meeting with the staff and school board starts in 10 minutes… but this is my last board meeting.

These language tests are the second last ones I need to grade.

The little chalkboard hanging beside my calendar states the truth that’s starting to sink in: 19 more days of school.

19 more days of responding to the name “Miss Wideman,” and after the last day, I won’t be called that anymore.

It’s been almost 6 years since my very scared younger self toured this school as a potential teacher.

Now, these walls feel like home. My things are scattered in various cabinets and shelves.

Memories are everywhere, made with students, and with co teachers. Under the stage. In the basement. The large roots of the maple tree by the little diamond. The staff room and worn out couch. And of course, my classroom.

This classroom where I sat in my office chair a few Augusts ago… rolled to the middle of the empty room, and slowly spun a full circle, looking at the space that I was supposed to organize.

Here I am, a few weeks close to packing up all my things, removing every personal item from the desk, and walking out the door.

I confess, I don’t know how I’m going to do it.

Yet, even with all the nostalgia that makes my heart ache to stay, I’m confident this is the right thing to do. There’s an open door God is calling me to walk through, and I’m truly excited about the VS term I’ve committed to.

But if it brings a few tears to my eyes when I close the door and leave behind my teacher identity… I’m ok with that.

It just means I’ve been part of something very precious for the past few years. I know that I have.

My heart will need to adjust to the vacancy that will be left by the absence of everyone that’s been part of my teaching world – students, parents, co teachers.

When I look at all the lasts that are beginning, I honestly don’t know how I’m going to do it…

And I’m glad.

I’m glad that I’m not just waiting to leave, because that means I have something to live for today.

I’m not in the next season yet, so right here is where I’m called to thrive, for 19 more school days with my students.

I get to enjoy the amusing lunch conversations, the deep questions of young minds, and be surrounded by the energy of 23 preteens for another while.

And if life can be this beautiful right here, where I am called to serve today, I am confident that the next season will be just as full of purpose.

God will fill my heart and hands with the new things that are hidden in the next season… when I get there.

So as I feel every emotion that’s stirred in this season of bittersweet endings, I trust God to lead me into the unknowns of the next chapter.

And instead of clinging too tightly to yesterday, or looking ahead to tomorrow, I can inhale and exhale.

The gift of today.

His grace in all things.

God, faithful in every change.

Treasures in Earthen Vessels

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At first glance, they were ordinary. A few mismatched pieces of pottery. Nice enough, but simple. Graceful, unmarred, but nothing stunning about any of them.

And yet, something about their unbroken simplicity was intriguing. The smooth surfaces and graceful designs spoke of gentle innocence, a kind of newness that is rarely seen.

Then… they were smashed. Cruelly, beneath the hammer’s unfeeling blows, they cracked into pieces. The one holding the hammer trembled. It felt so wrong to do this… to ruin this perfect vessel so brutally.

Yet it had to be done. It was part of the process. The vessel couldn’t reach the greater beauty ahead without being broken open first…

So many pieces. So many heartaches, tears, and wounds. Yet so, so much more to come.

Gentle hands gather the pieces and begin to rebuild. It’s a slow process. Sometimes, it falls apart in the artist’s hands and steps need to be repeated that had been previously done. But it’s worth every minute of waiting for the pieces to form a strong, mended bond.

And gradually, restoration takes place. They take on their former shape, yet with so much more vibrance. Where before they had an innocent, subtle kind of beauty, their cracks and lines now radiate that grace with a brilliantly soft kind of strength.

They are remade. They have some holes and uneven places, but they are beautiful. They have survived the crushing and been restored to wholeness – with so much gold added.

Kintsugi.

A beautiful form of Japanese art, that translates so well to our lives.

We’re all like those vessels… God saw our lives beautiful and whole in the beginning, but Satan entered the picture and marred the scene of perfection.

I like to think that our Heavenly Father cries as He watches the hammer blows that break us, because it was not His original plan that evil would exist to affect our lives. Yet because we fell away from God and live in a broken world, we can’t remain whole. Every one of us is ruined by the effects of the curse.

And we can ask, “Since God is more powerful, why doesn’t He just take over? Shut Satan down?”

But He will. He has already won, yet as long as time continues, the enemy still has his season to steal, kill, and destroy.

But God only allows it to happen knowing that He is about to gather the pieces and do something wonderful. He always triumphs over evil in the end, whether we see it in this life or not until eternity.

It is His hands that hold us while we are being broken by life’s pain, His hands that gather the pieces, and His hands that lovingly mend us into more beautiful vessels for Him.

Every one of us. Created for perfection. Destroyed by the curse. Yet redeemable by Jesus.

Every one of us… broken, messy, jagged edges, yet He sees in us the potential for beauty.

This past weekend, I had the privilege of gathering with friends and doing the Kintsugi project together. These girls are grace-filled vessels… imperfect, broken, yet filled with Jesus.

We talked. Sang. Prayed. Laughed. Shared. And ate ice cream, of course.

The weekend before, I was blessed by a dear heart pouring love into my life through her own cracks as we sat in the sunshine on an upturned canoe, and hashed out life. Some people don’t stay strangers long – not when you both are a grace-filled vessel because of Christ’s work in your heart.

This week, I met with another friend for a good heart-to-heart talk over chai lattes; the comfortable kind of conversation where you get to to just be and no pretense or explaining is needed.

I am blessed to know a wide circle of girls who are there for me to laugh or cry with, to sing or pray with, through every big or little thing we face in life.

They are people who have allowed Jesus to fill them, to flow through them, to mend them and fill their broken vessels with His love.

They’re all a work in progress, same as I am, but they are beautiful.

They might not always know their worth, but I do.

I know they are priceless, because the way they bless the lives they touch has eternal value.

They are truly treasures in earthen vessels… because Christ-like love is a treasure.. and they are all overflowing with Him.

I don’t pause to thank God or tell them often enough – but I’m so grateful for every one of the Christian friends God has placed in my life.

We All Have Our Moments

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I had a few today.

Moments, that is.

The kind where you really want to just pause and exhale – but there’s not actually time.

This need to maintain full speed functionality was caused by a combination of paint, art projects at various stages, and twenty-four students, one of whom had joined our class for the first time.

Art class.

It always looks innocent on my planner, it stays organized as the supplies are gathered and neatly placed on my back counter – but soon after that, any semblance of order fades.

My carefully planned strategy is replaced by one that is summed up in three words: Get. It. Done.

Okay, not quite that bad. I do have a strategy, but it tends to create a bustling vibe, because it involves delegation – and therefore multiple things are happening simultaneously.

Student volunteers move desks, pass out brushes, pour paint into palettes, and fill cups with water.

At the end of art class, they collect brushes and palettes, clean the aforementioned items, wash and replace the desks, and return all art supplies to the supply room.

It’s streamlined. It’s efficient. It’s beautiful.

And it’s somehow, always, crazy.

There’s no avoiding that feeling when you have a large group in a small space multi-tasking together.

I find it works best when I don’t attempt to do anything, but simply walk through the room, giving instructions, and delegating tasks as rapidly as the hands go up.

Why can’t I accomplish anything at the same time as my helpful students?

Because I am already well-occupied trying to keep my mouth caught up with my ears.

Yes, that’s right.

The Lord blessed me with two ears, but only one larynx, and I am therefore physically capable of hearing my name from multiple students at once, but only responding to them individually.

Today, I looked at the three who had each approached me from opposite directions and voiced my name at about the same time. And the two who instantly said it again because I had continued my mid-sentence instructions to the first.

And I shared with them this fascinating bit of news, that I’m physically incapable of answering them all simultaneously. They were highly amused, had fun pretending to be duly amazed, and probably thought I’m going crazy.

I wonder the same thing, sometimes.

I mispronounced the new student’s name after having specifically told my class before her arrival which pronunciation she prefers.

I apologized to her; she was not bothered, just noted that I had it correct originally and got it wrong in the middle of art class.

From across the room a student soothingly said, with a teasing twinkle in his eye, “It’s ok, we all have our moments.”

After we had finished laughing, I said, “Well, I think my brain has a few more moments when it’s trying to juggle a lot at once.”

Another student said, “We hear your name a lot in an art class. Do you ever think of that?”

(In 6 years of teaching? Believe it or not, yes, I’ve noticed. At times, I’ve imagined what it would be like to get a legal name change so I could hear something else. Or better yet, a name jar to draw from so I have constant variety. “For today’s art class, my name will be…” The students could even take turns pulling the name each week. Children love that sort of thing. Hey, they could just make up the – never mind. Scary thought. Imagination, we are stopping right there.)

I didn’t say all that. Instead I replied like a nice, calm teacher, that yes, I have noticed. It’s okay though, I enjoy art with all of you. I hope someday you each have the opportunity to paint with 24 students.

I should have known that technical 6th graders would have an immediate giggling response. “We are painting with 24 students, though, and my brain is managing fine!”

They know they can tease me and that I can return it. (I’m thankful for relationships with students that have healthy respect alongside good, friendly banter in a school day!)

To this I answered, “That is true! I have an idea. How about every time someone needs help or has a question, I would still answer them but they’d say your name instead of mine?”

My teasing 6th grader was speechless as he envisioned that scenario.

Suddenly, he burst out in horror, “I couldn’t handle that! If that happened, I would LEAVE!”

Well.

Maybe I’m doing okay after all.

I might not always feel perfectly calm in the hustle and bustle, but I can say that I have never decided to just LEAVE an art class.

I have made tea and clutched my mug as though it is the last link to my sanity as I walk from desk to desk. I have mentally envisioned myself juggling and tried to lean into the rhythm of it. Often I hum slow, gentle choral music to contrast the fast pace of the students I am existing among.

But I have never, ever, simply walked out the door and left the premises.

Not even when they apparently had named the paint palette Sam, and stood mournfully around the bucket where Sam was to be washed with12 other unnamed palettes.

A general wailing was heard from the back of the room as the student in charge washed Sam’s colours from him. “Goodbye, Sam, good byyyyyyyye!”

Don’t ask why.

They’re in 6th grade, I know.

But we ALL have our moments.

I am His Daughter

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What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?

I don’t usually answer the daily prompts, but this one made me smile.

My middle name is Anne.

Yes, include that E.

My dad chose it for me – Mom chose my first name.

And I grew up to be quite like the iconic Anne with an E, as anyone who knows me will testify to.

So in my teens, when my personality began to exhibit with vibrant intensity a dramatic way of expressing myself, (how’s that for a string of words, Lucy Maud,) mom would laughingly say to Dad,

“She’s YOUR daughter. You named her Anne!”

It’s also interesting to note that the genes which are to blame for these characteristics come from Mom’s side of the family tree… but Dad called me Anne.

So when I get dramatic, or into ridiculous situations, the family joke decrees that I’m  Dad’s daughter.

Thankfully, he’s level headed enough to take it all in stride…

And even more importantly, with God’s help my wild imagination and descriptive tongue thankfully don’t get me into trouble as often as they once did.

I remember despairingly begging God to make me quiet, calm, and shy. In other words, a nice, normal person who would never embarrass herself.

Well, it’s evident in my life that’s one of those prayers that God answered with “no.”

I prayed that until I was about 16, when I finally clued in that God did make me this way for a purpose.

Since then I’ve prayed that God will work through the personality He’s given me to speak the words He gives to me, and have the courage to do what He tells me to do.

I’m so glad that He has actively continued to answer this prayer in my life, and I know He will continue to shape me in His likeness as I ask Him to with a willing heart.

Just like my earthly parents, I know my Heavenly Father loves me for who I am, exactly the way I am.

That’s because I am God’s daughter, too…

And He’s given me another name besides Anne.

Redeemed.

“My Cup Runneth Over…”

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I’m settling in for a relaxing weekend at home after two weekends away.

So instead of sleeping as I should be, I’m absorbing what a wonderful feeling it is to be in my own bed on a weekend.

Not because my travels weren’t enjoyable, but rather, because home is a great place to sit still, and let my thoughts flow,  and bask in the goodness of God.

Two weeks ago, I spent a few days with a long time friend and picked up just where we’d left off.

She’s like a big sister to me, so when she said to make myself at home, I obeyed her as younger sisters should… and proceeded to make pizza for supper in her kitchen. 

(before you think I’m a terrible houseguest to take over like that, let me clarify – we go way back. And she was delighted!)

My own horizons were expanded as she led me on a tour of her northern world, and I was delighted to see the sights and meet the people that make up her world for this season of life.

I flew home to a whirlwind of a week, cherishing the moments with my students after missing them terribly in my time off school, finishing report cards, and leaving right after school on Friday.

Off to the people in my second home for a weekend of connecting with another soul sister, reaching out to a homeless community with our friends, and listening to a mission choir sing about our Anabaptist heritage in a Catholic cathedral.

Singing Faith of our Fathers as a congregational hymn in that setting, after sharing the message of God’s truth with the lost and hopeless all afternoon, impacted my heart in such a poignant way.

There is no way to capture it all in words…

But there is an overflowing peace saturating my heart.

In all the unknowns my life holds, I know with certainty that God is faithful.

Life with Him may not always be this beautiful, and He is good even when life doesn’t seem to be, but right now, I just have so much to thank Him for.

Friends near and far.

The kind of friends who hash out life until late night hours, because what is sleep when you need to have a good heart-to- heart?!

The same friends who will pray for me and with me in all the things… Christian friends to walk through this life with me keep me inspired on the journey.

There are still unknowns ahead of me, and I think it’s to be expected that there always will be, but God has shown me so many of His gifts lately.

Life doesn’t need to be filled with dramatic signs and wonders to know that God is in my story…

If I view life through a lens of faith, I can see He’s been blessing me in so many simple, precious ways lately.

And my heart is content.

So for all that I know, for all that He’s shown, and for the fact that He’s holding all the unknowns…

I am deeply grateful to my Father.

And my cup is overflowing with joy.

We Are All His

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Humanity in all forms flows around me here in the busy Calgary airport, where I sit reflecting on my weekend.

Enjoying a beautiful view of the Rockies.

Eating Chinese food (one of the many perks to large airports… actually having a good food court!)

Waiting on my connecting flight.

And yes, forgive me, observing people.

I’m meeting a few other followers of Jesus…

Praying for the hurting souls going by as I hear the fragmented snatches of their life stories…

Reading hopelessness in so many eyes.

I think back to a comment that was made in the Sunday school discussion at the church I visited on Sunday.

“We are all God’s children,” she said, “it’s just that some people don’t know yet who they are. They need us to break down the walls, see them as His just like ourselves, and introduce them to Jesus. They need to know where they belong.”

Spending so much time in crowded airports this weekend has given me hours of time to decide what to do with.

Is a four hour layover simply “time to kill?”

Time to sleep? (Considering the late – that is, wee hours early- hour I’m expected to arrive home, yes, some of that layover was for sleeping)

Time to simply relax? Me-time?

It could be fully spent sleeping, shopping, indulging at various cafes, or even scrolling.

Yet my Father instructs me clearly in Ephesians 5 that I should be “redeeming the time, because the days are evil. Wherefore be ye not unwise, but understanding what the will of the Lord is.”

The central purpose of Christ’s ministry on earth was to make a way to draw all of humanity to Himself.

If He was willing to die for that cause, it’s clear what His will is. He wants us all to come to Him.

With such a clear message, how then can I not spend this time praying for eyes to see each opportunity to reach out? Courage to seize the opportunities as they appear? And wisdom to speak in each moment I am called to speak?

I know that God provides all these needs, because He has before, He is answering today, and He always will… if I simply show my willingness by asking Him to work through me.

It might seem futile or insignificant, but I know that God sees what I don’t see.

If my words and actions are directed by the One Who knows the needs of each heart, the slightest interaction is probably more important than I am aware of.

And even if I feel that a few simple conversations aren’t enough to combat the evil and brokenness that is rampant in a Godless society, no one here is too much for God to redeem.

No one is too lost for Him to seek out and find.

No one is too far away to be unworthy of His love…

Because we are all His.

Lord, convict me to carry Your Truth, Your Light, and Your Love wherever I go… make my broken self a useful instrument in Your perfect hand. Give me the courage to share the truth of all our identity to those who are searching for the place where they belong!

The Swirl of Beautiful Chaos that Is Today

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*this post got missed in my old drafts for some reason. It was written last October, but if the chaos described is relatable to you now, maybe God meant this one to wait for you… to inspire you today. ♡

“Someday, I’ll invest more time in my blog,” I assure myself. “When life slows down enough that I have time to write.”

That’s why I post so rarely.

Not only because life doesn’t slow down, as you might be guessing.

But also, because the rare day that does proceed in a calm, leisurely manner holds very little that can be creatively rephrased into a blog post.

Yes, those days are a gift. A time to worship, to praise God, to inhale His grace and exhale in peace. And I can and do write about those times.

But when I read only about others’ calm days, it’s hard to be inspired when the average chaos that fills most of my days is nothing like that ideal day that just flows.

But maybe, God allows our lives to be full so we need to put in effort to seek Him.

Maybe He calls us out of the mundane to find Him, constant as ever in the chaos.

Could it be that God can show His sufficiency best in the face of a long list of responsibilities?

It would be so nice to feel less frazzled in class. To have time to answer every whimsical thought that arises, whether on topic or not.

Yet if I wouldn’t have a few too many things to fit into a day, would I be prompted to check my values and priorities as often?

In the swirling chaos that was today, I took time to explain why King Asa was not a Christian, even though he was a good man who obeyed God. (To be a follower of Christ wasn’t possible until Christ actually came… Asa lived a good while before the New Testament.)

We talked about idol worship, and ways to crush the idols in our lives.

I learned that some of my students’ older siblings are on their phones a lot, and idolism is suspected by my sixth graders.

I taught independence, encouraging them to use their own judgement about what’s appropriate to write in a story for school and what isn’t.

In the madness that was 23 students and 23 math lessons to check, return, correct, check, and return again… In the repetition of hearing the books of the New Testament recited 23 times… In the never ending swirl of books being returned to have corrections marked, and just as quickly leaving my desk to be claimed by their owners… In all the waving hands and eager eyes (either pleading for help or sparkling with mischief, but definitely needing as answer this instant)…

God was in today. God was in my classroom. God was in me, making it possible to teach the class.

And if I let the chaos blind me, if I allow myself to be caught up in the swirl of life’s responsibilities, I will lose sight of God in my story.

But He never leaves – and He calls me into these busy seasons so that I learn to seek Him persistently. Diligently. And confidently, knowing He is in my today.

So when I paused to prioritize those questions – I met my Father’s smile of approval. He cares what I’m teaching these young hearts about Him – more than if the math lesson gets done in time for recess.

The swirl of chaos that is today becomes beautiful when God is in it.

And I can live with passion and purpose in my wild and wonderful life for Him!

Christ – My Center in the Chaos

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It’s Monday morning, grey and foggy, the air is damp and mild, and everything is a tad squishy.

But the trees are coated in beautiful white, a mysterious beauty encrusting their stark bareness against the grey sky.

And here in my classroom, all 23 of my people are working with me in our humming routine.

My coffee is steaming in one of my three favourite “at-school” mugs.

And it’s been a wonderful morning.

I arrived at school feeling sleepy after staying too late last night… set down my things on my desk, glanced at the daily plan, and saw the little sign beside my planbook. “But First, Pray,” it says.

I bought it at Hobby Lobby as a reminder to keep me praying for my students. It would be wonderful if teachers in Christian schools were something of the supernatural – some people think we are, it’s not true – and always managed to pray as much as we should for our students.

It would be great if I wouldn’t be prone to allowing my workload to cloud my vision and demanding priority, but I’m not supernatural. I’m fully human, and with a large class, I’ve struggled more than ever to keep up with everything I want to give my students this year.

But the letter board in my bedroom reminds me every morning when I rise, “yet not i, but through Christ in me.”

And the little sign I placed on my desk a few months ago calls me to prayer again when I arrive at school.

It might not always be long, but breathing a prayer for my students before they arrive, asking for an infilling of Spirit wisdom to teach not only their minds but their hearts, and eyes to see them the way their Creator does – eyes of unconditional love – it makes classroom life so much better.

There are often too many pieces to fit into a day, but when I invite Jesus into my schedule, He becomes the calm Center in my chaos and He always makes a way.

He’s there with me as I greet my students and ask about their weekends.

When class starts, I take prayer requests and am blessed to have so many students willing to pray for the needs of others in our global community of humanity. Hearing the prayers of their young hearts inspires me to keep tending their growth and never give up on them, no matter what may happen later in the day.

Christ is my calm as I walk them through the complexities of math class and answer an abundance of questions.

His Spirit provides answers in the moment-by-moment snap decisions that I need to make.

And somehow, at the end of every whirl of a day, the pile of books on my desk has diminished.

The lessons get taught, the work gets marked, and good conversations happen in the gaps.

I like my little sign that reminds me to pray.

Because the Lord knows I’m human, and humans forget, but it’s because of my humanity that it’s imperative that I remember.

No matter what I’m doing, I need to be stopped in my energetic tracks and let Him remind my soul,

“But first, Pray.”

Is there any Life in Leviticus?

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Have you ever tried to study the Levitical Law?

Over the years, I’ve heard others share with glowing confidence that there’s so much to find there.

I secretly wondered what their special gift was that they could interpret this book that I’ve always struggled with.

I’ve never done an in depth study of the book, but I’ve opened my Bible, stumbled through detailed accounts of sacrificing various things, and struggled to find any inspiration for today.

So last weekend, when I saw the Sunday school lesson, I inwardly groaned.

Introduction to Leviticus…

I knew it would be deep. A lot of types and figures of the salvation plan, but would I be able to apply it to today?

I reminded myself that the Word – the whole Word – is alive. Written by inspiration of God for our spiritual instruction.

And I prayed for God to reveal hidden truths to my heart, because I believed Leviticus must have life in it, even if I hadn’t found it yet.

I’m so humbled and grateful to say, God definitely heard my prayers and again as we prayed at the start of our class Sunday morning.

Our discussion flowed more than usual, so much that we didn’t get through the lesson, and I was genuinely inspired by the things we uncovered.

I found a lot more inspiring truth in Leviticus than I expected to… and was reminded of one that’s written elsewhere in the Bible.

If I’m willing to seek, God will show His message to my heart.

“Seek ye the Lord while He may be found, call ye upon Him while He is near…” Isaiah 55:6