Joy

People tell me all the time how funny I am. I guess that's true. I do have a quirky way of looking at things sometimes. The problem is that my public humorous persona seldom matches what is really going on inside of me. I've been pondering this lately. Why is it that I wake up most mornings with a heaviness? Why do I sometimes wonder if I'm really doing anything with my life or doing anything for God? Why do I feel such a burden for people surrounding me? Is this what depression looks like? Or could it be discontentment?

de·pres·sion

 noun \di-ˈpre-shən, dē-\

: a state of feeling sad

: a serious medical condition in which a person feels very sad, hopeless, and unimportant and often is unable to live in a normal way

dis·con·tent·ed

adjective \ˌdis-kən-ˈten-təd\

: not happy with your situation, position, etc. : not contented

dis·con·tent

 adjective \ˌdis-kən-ˈtent\

: not pleased or satisfied

Uh oh. Yes, I sometimes feel sad. Who doesn't? But I am able to live in a normal way. I'm not curled up in a ball on the floor or anything. I go to work, fix dinner for my dad, visit the kids, and play with my grand kids. So...that leaves discontentment. Ouch! I've been a Christian long enough to know that a lack of contentment is NOT a fruit of the Spirit!

Galatians 5

22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

So what is my excuse? I'd like to say that there is no simple answer but maybe there is. I concentrate so much on myself! Even as I deliberate this issue, I make it about me - how I feel, what I think, what I do, how I do it - me, me, me. Where is my joy supposed to come from? I need to focus on who I am in Christ and all that He has done for me.

I am saved. (Romans 10)

I am forgiven. (I John 1)

I am loved. (I John 4)

I have hope. (Rom. 5, Titus 1, 2, & 3)

I have a Savior who is alive. (I Peter 1)

I am God's daughter. (Eph. 1)

I am chosen. (Eph. 1)

I am redeemed. (Gal. 3)

I have peace. (Phil. 4)

I am free. (Rom. 8)

The list goes on and on. What strikes me is this - the Bible doesn't say that I might be saved or that I am going to be forgiven or that I will be loved or that I may have hope or that Christ possibly rose from the dead or that eventually I'll be adopted by God or that I am waiting to be chosen or that I have to earn my redemption or that I can have peace or that I am partially free. It is already a done deal. I don't have to question or worry about my position in Christ. It is secured by His blood and I am in!! 

No, I am not truly depressed but neither am I satisfied. Shame on me! 

"Dear Lord, forgive me for only thinking of myself. When I awaken tomorrow morning, let my first thoughts be of You and all that You have given me and for the blessings Your sacrifice has provided."

Psalms 5

11 But let all who take refuge in You be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread Your protection over them, that those who love Your name may rejoice in You. 12 For surely, O LORD, You bless the righteous; You surround them with Your favor as with a shield.

Psalms 16

6 The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.7 I will praise the LORD, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. 8 I have set the LORD always before me. Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. 9 Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure, 10 because You will not abandon me to the grave, nor will You let Your Holy One see decay.

Psalms 28

7 The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to Him in song.

Walmart in a Small Town

Lots of people make fun of Walmart and the people that shop there. There's even a whole website about the People of Walmart.

http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/ 

But...Hello! We live in a small town and you just can't beat Walmart's prices so I imagine that even those who hate Walmart find themselves shopping there, at least occasionally. Besides, where else can you buy wine, water softener salt, ice, and Velcro all in the same place? Anyway, I ran into Walmart the other night for what I hoped would be a quick trip. Is that really possible? A quick trip to Walmart? I wasn't feeling great (had bronchitis again), had worked all day, and I just wanted to get in and out fast. But here's what really happened...

First, I ran into an acquaintance from church. We spent a very pleasant 20 minutes or so chatting near the milk aisle about kids, weddings, jobs, etc. A couple that we both know, also from church, stopped by for a minute or two, but they wisely moved on somewhat quickly. Finally, my friend and I decided we'd better make some progress so we went our separate ways. I passed a man who was talking on his phone. The person on the other end was evidently instructing him to buy fresh strawberries and he was complaining that he was going to have to drive all over the place to get the stuff he needed. Poor baby. Next aisle over I actually spotted fresh strawberries. I was tempted to hunt him down and show them to him but he didn't deserve it since he was such a wanker so I kept going.

I proceeded to the greeting card department.

I bumped into another friend who had been in the "Young Adult Group" that met at my house for years. He was with his fiancee and they were buying tires and discovering how expensive it was to support themselves. We only had a short conversation, however, because my dad called to check on me. Besides, I really wanted to get home. I had no water softener salt or Velcro yet but someone had put Frito's and Cheetos into my cart. Back to the cards. Do you realize how expensive cards are these days? They were $3.00 at the least but most were more. I spent quite a bit of time picking out a number of them. Another woman was nearby doing the same thing. Eventually, I had about five cards in my hand but realized that they were going to cost me more than $20.00. I started putting my cards back. Ironically, the neighboring woman began to do the same thing. We instantly bonded over the high cost of expressing affection through the written word and for the next 15 minutes, she told me how she was getting married for the 3rd time (optimistic), couldn't find anything to wear for the wedding (I recommended Dress Barn), her mother was advocating just living together (not so optimistic), and how good her fiance was to her. While I found it somewhat odd that this stranger was telling me her life story, I was also beginning to slow down and give up my dream of a "quick" Walmart trip. After all, I had nothing to rush home to except NCIS. We finally parted ways, agreeing that we would buy our cards at the Dollar Store and I genuinely wished her an enjoyable wedding as I headed towards Fabric. 

As I turned a corner a man bolted out of the Sporting Goods aisle carrying a basket designed to be hooked onto the front of a bike. 

"Can you believe this?", he said to me. "$24.00 for this bike basket!"

"Terrible!", I agreed. 

Who was this guy? Later, in the check out line, I saw him again. He was buying the whole bike which was going to cost him considerably more than $24.00. Oh well, to each their own. By that time I had retrieved my Velcro, salt, ice, etc. and was finally, definitely, hurriedly, looking forward to home. Of course, there were only three check stands open, each with at least twelve people waiting in line. I considered my choices - there was the line that had a young woman with not one but two carts, both loaded to the gills. Pass. There was the line with the bicycle man in it and he had been joined by a woman who had a dog in her cart (I am not making this up). Pass. I chose the last line and patiently waited a fairly long time but honestly, by then, I was actually enjoying watching everything going on around me. My checker told me my total and she very generously had neglected to charge me for the water softener salt or the ice. Sweet of her but I couldn't accept her gift. She redid my total and I was free! I practically ran out the door to my car. I had a premium parking space close to the store, right next to a handicap spot.

The woman with the car in the handicap slot had just finished loading her things when I arrived. 

"Do you mind if I look inside your car?", she asked me. 

Seriously? Was this trip for real? 

"Ummm, ". 

"I don't have to get in. I just want to look in the windows." 

Eventually, she explained that she owned a Honda (same as me) but she didn't like it. Her husband had Parkinson's, the car was too small, mine was larger and she wondered how I felt about mine. I found myself telling her how the front seat was uncomfortable, I couldn't see out the windows to back up (not the car's fault - it's a short person problem), and how my dad had so graciously GIVEN me the car, it had very low mileage, and so I loved it. She decided to go buy a Toyota.

Twenty minutes later I was in my garage. It hadn't been a quick trip to Walmart. But you know, I had a smile on my face. We're all in this together, in various stages of crazy. My dad never met a stranger and he will take the time to talk to anybody! That night at Walmart, I caught a glimpse of why he does that. Maybe I'll try it a little more often.

Self-Control

Self-Control:  restraint exercised over one's own impulses, emotions, or desires

I desire a dessert-type snack at 10:45 p.m. I curb my urges and do not drive into town for a Snicker's Bar. I use staples from my kitchen and butter a flour tortilla, sprinkle it with cinnamon and sugar, and broil it. That is my definition of self-control.

I arrive home from work and hear a message on my answering machine. The message is from a doctor's office in Santa Barbara asking Paul (not the apostle Paul) to call them at his earliest convenience. I have an impulse to call the office and ask them, "Why the hell are you calling me?" Instead, I exercise restraint and settle for a glass of wine. Again, self-control.

I am stressed because of work, kids, money, etc. Take your pick. I feel like going to Kohl's after work for some retail therapy, however, budget cutbacks suggest that I consider a different route. So instead, I drive home, get in bed at 6:30 p.m. and proceed to watch six hours of NCIS. That is some self-control!

All seriousness aside, what is God's definition of self-control? I am asking myself this because I am lacking in this particular fruit of the Spirit. I have self-control in some areas of my life - I rarely lose my temper, I typically finish what I start, I get my work done before I play, I apply lotion every day, etc. However, I am well aware that there are other times when self-control is completely missing. Those times usually involve eating, exercising (actually not exercising), and watching too much television. At least that's what I thought. I decided to dig a little and see what the Bible had to say about self-control.

In Acts 24, Paul was brought up on charges of being a "troublemaker" and had to appear before the governor, Felix. Paul spoke to Felix about "righteousness, self-control, and the judgement to come." That struck me. Righteousness and judgement are important, heavy-duty subjects. But self-control? Is it that important? Paul apparently thought so. And most of us know that in Galatians 5 self-control is listed as a fruit of the Spirit. I have the Spirit in me so logically, self-control should be within my reach. We do have help. 2 Corinthians tells us that "the love of Christ controls us." It stands to reason that the more we are conformed to the image of Christ, the more self-control we will exhibit. And what an example Christ was for us. When He was accused, He kept silent; when tortured He didn't fight back; when humiliated He didn't get angry.

A synonym for control is discipline. Here is part of the definition of discipline:

"training, especially of the mind or character; the training effect of experience or misfortune; the trained condition of order and obedience."

OBEDIENCE. I noticed that word immediately. I can develop self-control by simply being obedient to God. The word training indicates that this is a process. It takes practice. That means I won't be able to master it today but I will improve over time.

Another synonym for control is regulate. The definition of regulate is:

"to put in condition to work properly."

That's what I want! I want to "work properly." Is it possible that by submitting to God's training, practicing self-control, and learning from my experiences and misfortunes, all that I am will work
better? I'm sure that's what it means and that is an encouraging concept to me.

Then I stumbled upon these verses:

1 Timothy 4:7-8

⁷ But have nothing to do with worldly fables fit only for old women. On the other hand, discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness; ⁸ for bodily discipline is only of little profit, but godliness is profitable for all things, since it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come.

Godliness is the thing to strive for because it is profitable "for all things." I'd like to think that this means that I don't need to worry about "bodily discipline" but that isn't the case. Eating half of an Ultimate Berry Pie from Trader Joe's at 11:00 p.m. is probably not my best idea. But I tend to focus on these less important things - my weight, my eating, my inactivity, etc. I need to set my sights higher. I need to discipline myself for the "purpose of godliness." Everything I do should be measured against God's standards. It's a question of priorities and if I am spending more time concentrating on "bodily disciplines" like what I eat rather than more important disciplines like prayer or Bible study, I will miss God's greater purpose for my life - godliness. And that godliness will trickle down to every arena of my life and I will be saturated with it. Marinated in the things of the Lord, my life might one day be sort of like that Ultimate Berry Pie - memorable, filling, satisfying, and a credit to its Maker!

Burn Day Reflections

There has been so much going on lately that I feel like I haven't had a real weekend in a very long time. Such a danger - getting caught up in the busyness of our lives. I'd had some old, dear friends here as they passed through town on their way to Santa Barbara. Of course, we stayed up way too late so after they left that morning, I was moving pretty slowly. Still, I wanted to feel like I could accomplish something. Turns out it was a legal burn day and Donny and Zac had left piles of old rotten wood that they had needed to get out of their yards. Perfect. I happily got a great little fire going, pulled a chair up and grabbed my Nook and sat out there for hours - reading, pondering, just looking around, and occasionally, getting up to add fuel to my fire. It took all day to get most everything burned and it smoldered well into the night. I was hot, tired, dirty, and so peaceful.

It really did need to be done but it was also an awesome opportunity to have a great excuse to spend time reflecting on what's been happening and to relax and admire the beauty around me. The wind was blowing gently so that I could listen to it going through the trees. The birds were flying around, catching the updrafts as they crested my ridge. There were so many bees in the orange trees surrounding me that I could hear them clearly. I watched the winery across the road as visitors went in and out. And I gazed out on the hillsides, now green from the recent bit of rain. It was gorgeous.

I have a tendency to believe that I must be busy - doing, accomplishing, working, producing - constantly. When I was younger and raising children, it was almost a necessity. If I didn't keep working the household and the children might run amuck! I loved the regular play times when a friend and I would take the kids to the park or the beach. The girls loved it, I felt like a good mom, and I had a reason to simply sit. But now, it's just me, myself, and I. I can, for the most part, do whatever I want, whenever I want. But old habits die hard. I still wake up on my day off and think, "What must I accomplish today?"

And then I found myself sitting by my little bonfire. It's a proven fact that staring at a fire causes your mind to consider all sorts of random things. It wasn't specifically a "spiritual" day though I certainly did spend quite a few of the hours contemplating my life - how it used to be, how it was now, and how I might want it to be in the future. It was beneficial because I had to acknowledge God's active participation in my life, all parts of it, and the peaceful surroundings and solitude gave me the time to express my trust or, confront my lack of trust, in the Lord's sovereignty. That all sounds so heavy and burdensome but it didn't seem that way. I had no pressure to come to any decisions or conclusions. I was free to think, wonder, or listen. On that silent day, God finally had a chance to speak to me without having to shout over me. Because if I'm honest, it's me that gets in the way - my plans, my thoughts, my activities, my stuff. I need to remember to steal away from the world more often.

           Psalm 46:10

             (NIV)

10    He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth.”

Isaiah 50:4-5

(NASB)

4 The Lord God has given me the tongue of disciples,
That I may know how to sustain the weary one with a word.
He awakens me morning by morning,
He awakens my ear to listen as a disciple.
5 The Lord God has opened my ear;
And I was not disobedient
Nor did I turn back.

Adoption

adop·tion

 noun \ə-ˈdäp-shən\

: the act or process of adopting a child

: the act or process of beginning to use something new or different

: the act or process of giving official acceptance or approval to something

Adoption has been on my mind for quite a while as I have watched Donny and Melissa move through the process. It's been a long road, emotionally challenging, financially draining, tedious and time-consuming, frustrating and arduous. Has it been worth it? Absolutely!! The Bible has a few things to say about adoption. 

Galatians 4:4-7

4 But when the set time had fully come, God sent His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, 5 to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship.[a] 6 Because you are His sons, God sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba,[b] Father.” 7 So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are His child, God has made you also an heir.

Ephesians 1:4-6

4 For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love 5 He[a]predestined us for adoption to sonship[b] through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will— 6 to the praise of His glorious grace, which He has freely given us in the One He loves.

Romans 8:14-17

14 For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15 The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship.[a] And by Him we cry, “Abba,[b] Father.” 16 The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. 17 Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory.

I've written before about our experience as a family when we met Tammera and eventually took her into our home and then into our hearts as a granddaughter, daughter, sister, and aunt.

 http://mostly-musing.blogspot.com/2012/08/daughters.html

It was partly my experience with loving Tammera that assured me that welcoming Donny and Melissa's future child would never be an issue. Their child has been in my heart for years and there is not one tiny piece of me that thinks of that child as any different than any of my other grandchildren. Their child will be a son or daughter, an heir, "officially accepted, new, different" (Webster's definition), chosen, predestined, redeemed, loved - and their child will KNOW that he/she belongs to them. It has been a difficult road for them but their love for their future child has kept them going. The same was true for Christ. His was a huge burden to bear and yet he sacrificed Himself gladly for our sake.

I sometimes forget that these same adjectives apply to me as God's child. I am also chosen, predestined, loved, an heir. I am a new and different creature in Christ. I am accepted and redeemed. If I can love a child destined to join Donny and Melissa before it is even born, how much more does God love me? It is impossible to understand or grasp the depth of God's infinite love for me. And His Spirit tells me this is true. So awesome. May I live in the knowledge that no matter what, my position is secure in Him and someday, I will share in His glory forever! Amen!

Jenny's 34th Birthday

Tomorrow, Jennifer Alyssa Brown Hanna will turn 34! I thought, in honor of her birthday, it might be fun to take a peek into her little-girl mind. The following is a story she wrote in 2002 about an incident that occurred when she was about six years old. Enjoy!

Curious Eyes
          by Jennifer Hanna, April 2002

"Do you think she's asleep?" Katie asked.
"No. Her eyes are open." Jenny replied.
"Do you think she's a vampire?"
"No. Maybe she got a seizure like Robby's."

          Robby lived down the street. At six months he had been sick with dangerously high fevers. His brain was left damaged by the spinal meningitis and he experienced seizures often. As a result, he always wore a helmet to protect his head when he fell with an oncoming seizure. The girls never noticed that the seizures were abnormal. They only noticed that Robby had them.

"I don't think so," Katie said. "She's not shaking. Maybe her spirit left."
"My mom said when your spirit goes to heaven you are died and we will miss you until we are in heaven too," Jenny said smartly. 
"Do you think she's died?" Katie gasped.
"No. Max's stomach didn't breathe when he was died, remember?"

          Katie nodded. Earlier that summer, Max, the big sheep dog that Jenny's family boarded, had died on the patio. The girls had found him, but not before the flies. Jenny's mother had tried to explain death to them, but Jenny got confused and was sure that Max's spirit lived under her bed. In the mornings she would throw herself out of bed fearing that if she landed near the edge, Max's spirit would bite her ankle.

          Four small eyes continued to look down at little Melissa who lay motionless in front of the T.V. Mary Poppins was on. It was a favorite of the girls. They had once spent hours jumping off the bumper of the old 1974 Plymouth Duster, umbrellas in hand, hoping to jump high enough next time to float to the ground like Mary Poppins. They eventually blamed their floating failure on the bumper. It was too skinny to get a good foothold before the leap.

"Maybe she's ignoring us," Jenny suggested. "Sarah says she's ignoring me sometimes and then she won't look at me."
"Melissa, are you ignoring us?" Katie asked in her high, loud, snotty voice. Melissa said nothing. She continued to lie on her side, her eyes unblinkingly fixed on the chimney sweep dancers.
"That's what Sarah does when she ignores me," Jenny stated, hands on hips. The girls stared down at the listless Melissa, not totally convinced about the process of ignoring.

          Just then, Michael bumped his way into the room. The four small eyes left Melissa in unison and focused on baby Michael, bottle in hand. "Missa wook!" he said proudly pointing a slobbery finger at Melissa. He waddled closer but fell before he reached Melissa. Both girls looked at him, neither making an effort to pick him up before they returned their gaze back to Melissa.

"Maybe we should get Ca Sue," Jenny suggested, giving up on figuring out why her baby sister lay motionless on her side, eyes plastered open.
"MOOOOOM!" Katie yelled, feet planted firm, never making an effort to go find her mother.

          Carole Sue rounded the corner from the kitchen, dishtowel in hand, wiping soap bubbles off her tiny wrists. Her questioning smile turned into a horrible face of shock when she saw Melissa. It made Katie and Jenny jump to attention. Four little eyes became four huge egg eyes as they watched Carole Sue run at Melissa. Her housedress flapped behind her leaving a trail of dish soap sent in her wake. She dove on top of Melissa, her dress slowly settling over the small body until Jenny and Katie could only see Melissa's head and cement white eyes. Carole Sue scooped Melissa up, shook her like a dirty tablecloth, and repeatedly yelled Melissa's name. Jenny and Katie stood shocked by the sudden explosion of commotion. Their feet were glued to the floor, their hands stitched to their thighs. They stood at a slight angle as if the wind from Carole Sue's dress was threatening to blow them over.

          All of a sudden, Melissa jerked to life. Though her eyes had already been open, light sprang into them as though they'd been closed for hours. Melissa looked wide-eyed at Carole Sue in surprise. Carole Sue looked wide-eyed at Melissa in exasperated relief. Katie and Jenny looked wide-eyed at them in confusion. Michael picked his nose. For a few moments no one except Mary Poppins said anything or moved. 

          Finally, realizing that little Melissa had just fallen asleep with her eyes open, Carole Sue began to breathe again. She set Melissa down and stumbled out of the room, drunk with the relief that a young child hadn't died on her living room carpet.

          Jenny and Katie blinked the confusion off in unison and turned their attention over to Michael who was eating the dirt from the base of the fichus tree.

"Do you think he will get the poison from the dirt?" Katie asked. "Mom told me yesterday not to let him eat the purple flower because he'd get the poison." Jenny shrugged as both girls waited to see what the poison would make Michael do.

The Chicken Skeleton

I've been home most of this weekend because I am dog-sitting Jen and Zac's two dogs. Denver, the older one, has stayed with me often. He is a sweet, big boy, and no trouble at all. But for the first time, I also have their new puppy, Digory. He's still quite young and since I don't have a fenced yard, I decided I'd better stick around to make sure he didn't start roaming the countryside of Peachy Canyon.

Yesterday, after changing my sheets, taking Digory for a walk, and doing a few other household chores, it occurred to me that it would be a good day to make some homemade chicken soup that my dad and I could eat later in the week. I knew I had a chicken carcass in my freezer and I had been needing to use it up for some time now. And so it was that I eventually found myself standing at my kitchen sink and picking through the chicken broth, fishing out all the gross skin, fat, and bones of this chicken. It reminded me of something that had occurred years ago.

When my oldest daughter, Sarah, was in Junior High School, she was taking an A.P. Biology class. She came home one day with an interesting assignment. Her job was to get a chicken carcass and somehow reassemble the skeleton. Needless to say, Sarah did not approach this project with enthusiasm! I did my part by buying a whole chicken, boiling it, and then taking all the meat off the bones so that I could make soup with it. As I pulled everything apart I put the bones on paper plates with general labels - "breast", "legs", "wings", etc. I was trying to help her at least have some idea of where stuff went. This was long before we had the internet to Google directions. We let the chicken bones dry out for a few days before beginning the "Humpty Dumpty" marathon.

Sarah was extremely grossed out by the whole idea. After much complaining, she donned my heavy, rubber cleaning gloves. No way was she going to touch a part of a chicken! I had set her up outside on the patio where she labored for the next few hours. You know, a chicken has a million tiny bones! She actually did a pretty good job of it. I remember watching out the windows and laughing so much because she was so obviously disgusted. Her chicken was glued back together and ended up looking like it was kneeling in prayer. She told me that if she wanted extra credit, we could go to the butcher and buy head, neck, and feet pieces. We passed. Later, she was outraged because, after turning in the heinous project, she learned that everyone got the same grade, so long as they did produced a skeleton, no matter how lousy their chicken looked. Neither one of us are sure what she was supposed to learn from all this but I doubt we will ever forget that chicken!

Back to my kitchen sink yesterday. I tend to analyze things, or over-analyze according to my kids, so I was thinking about the pile of tiny bones I had set aside. I could have never put them back together in any semblance of order - no more than I could put my marriage back together, no more than I could undo the mistakes I made as a parent, and so forth. Only God, our Creator, can put the broken and mixed up pieces of our lives back into a functional whole. We think sometimes that there is only one way to do this, just like a chicken leg has one specific place to be on a chicken. However, since God designed us and planned our lives, He has the ability to "reassemble" us in any fashion He desires. I am now single. I didn't think that was what God had intended for me but obviously, it is, for this season of my life. Graciously, He has allowed me to function and even flourish, though my skeleton doesn't look the same as it once did. As always, it comes back to trusting God and His sovereignty. I am merely the bones. He is the soup maker and His soup is always going to taste better than anything I could make on my own!

Jeremiah 29:11

New International Version (NIV)

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.