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Six Thing I’ve Learned in Spain

April marked six months for us in Spain.  (Actually it was seven months, but let’s not count that first month living in a hotel.) After a few weeks in our house I wrote about what the experience of moving to a country felt like and how change is often difficult.  When we talked to others that had moved to overseas, six months was the magic number.  Give it six months they said.  You will probably hate it for six months, tolerate is for a year and love it after that. This can easily apply to any move or major change, not just moving overseas.  Six months into any situation can bring perspective. 

And guess what – they were right.  We would probably even be ahead of the curve from tolerating to loving it.  Obviously we don’t love everything, but there are many things to love about living here.  The sunshine topping the list.  Even in a short time, I have learned a lot but not at all the things I was expecting to learn.  I have been able to look at our lives from a bit of an outside perspective.  

So here are six things I’ve learned so far on this side of the ocean.  

Raise your hand if you need this cup!

1.I Can Live Without Target and Chick-fil-a

Seriously.  As shallow as it sounds, it is true.  Don’t get me wrong, there are times I would love nothing more than to see that white and red sign and to be able to order a number one with lemonade and kids meal instead of making dinner, but we are ok.  Now, I do have a strong Amazon supply chain for some things, yes, but Spain has food and stores and everything we need to survive.  Somethings are different and not my favorite, but I want to shed the idea that I can’t live without the familiarity of only things in America.  I can love it and enjoy, but I’m not crippled without it. 

2. Everyone Loves a Cheeseburger

On the flip side of number one, it is shocking to see how American culture has permeated other parts of the world.  McDonalds operates in 119 countries around the world.  We have McDonalds, Burger King, Taco Bell, Dominos, KFC, TGIFridays, and Five Guys here in Valencia.  (Addison almost went to blows with a boy who tried to compare KFC to Chick-fil-a.) American songs play through the speakers in stores and brands like Gap, Nike, and Under Armour are readily available.  Thera are Crossfit Gyms. The movie theaters look exactly like theaters in the US, playing all the big name Hollywood movies.  You can even watch movies in English on certain days.  We can watchThe Big Bang Theory, This is Us, Fox News, the World Series and the Super Bowl on our Spanish cable provider.  For better or worse American culture and capitalism has at least small stake in every corner of the world. 

3. Americans Use A Lot of Energy

If Europeans get an A+ for energy conservation, Americans get an F. Listen, I bleed red, white and blue, but the vast majority of Americans don’t care about energy conservation and most of the world mocks our efforts.  I never realized the attitude of my own heart in this area.  I would have never hung my clothes out on a line in the US. I would have said, “My convenience is more important.  As long as I can pay for it, why does it matter how much energy I use.” I probably wouldn’t have even been able to articulate it that well because I simply never thought about it.  It is eye-opening to see an entire continent that willingly operates with little air conditioning, even in the hot summer months, and drive tiny cars simply to conserve energy.  I’m not saying I’m completely converted in this area, but I have had a shift in perspective.  If recycling, hanging my sheets out to dry and turning my thermostat up a few degrees helps to peel back some of my self-entitled spirit, it’s worth the effort. In the past I’ve shrugged off climate change and the environment as “not my problem.”  Setting aside the politics of that debate, I do believe I need to be a better steward of the Earth because the Lord has called us to be good stewards of His creation.  I want to teach my kids that more and bigger is not always better and sacrifice for the sake of stewardship is always a win/win.  

4. Americans Are Safety Conscious

As you live in other cultures, you begin to adapt in some ways and grow to appreciate or even accept the norms of your adopted land.  There are however some things that are so ingrained, that they will never change. (Like I’m never going to get use to dinner at 10:00PM. I just can’t.) As a whole, I had no idea how safety conscience we are as Americans.  (My parents are the reigning king and queen of safetyville, so I probably have an extra dose of all things safety related.)  The reason for this American obsession is debatable, with fear of litigation probably topping the list.  Every house here has a pool and virtually none of them have fences.  My American brain can’t even fathom who thinks that this is an acceptable way to live.  Playgrounds harken back to the playground of the 1970’s and 80’s in the US with few railings, metal rails and dangerous apparatuses of all sorts.  Then there are the roundabouts.  I can’t decide if they are just an independent view on driving: people are adults, they can handle it or if it is just a layer of survival of the fittest and population control.  The upside to a less safety focus culture is a more carefree attitude, clearly seen throughout all of Spanish culture: enjoy life and don’t worry about all the what if’s. 

5. Americans Work A Lot 

America led the world in innovation, technology and development through much of the 19thand 20thcenturies.  While some of that balance of power may be shifting, America is still the power house of innovation. If you watch the movie Hidden Figures, you understand why we got to the moon.  It wasn’t luck or chance – it was hard work.  My friend Michael Phelps passed his competitors because he was willing to work longer and harder than most of them.  For most Americans the drive for greatness is inherent. Sixty-hour work weeks just feel normal to us. Why settle for mundane when you can be anything you want to be? 

In our time in Spain, I have come to see that while there are many amazing things that come out of the American spirit and drive, there is a cost that comes with it. Here Chad works less than 30 hours a week on average and gets 22 holidays and multiple weeks of half days.  Does this organization accomplish as much a unit in the states that works double that amount? Certainly not.  However, do Americans tip the scale to sacrifice all on the altar of productivity and output?  Probably so. Every American we have met in Spain have a common theme – they came here to get out of the rat race of the American cooperate world.  They saw an opportunity to live in a culture that valued something other than output.

6. Change Isn’t Always What You Expect

I can’t write a full discourse on what I’ve learned in Spain because obviously the process has just begun. However, I do think the lessons are going to be different than we anticipated.  I expected to learn a language (that reality is still totally up in the air), experience new places and then jump back into American life just like I had never left.  While I will gladly use my dryer again one day, I hope we never return to life as normal. From what I have observed Spaniards value two things above all else: family and time.  While certainly no society is immune from the drive and lust for money and power, I can see a distinct difference in what this country values.  Stores are closed on Sundays because they value something else over profits.  Life shuts down during the month of August because rest and time with family is highly valued.  Dads are present at practices and family dinners because there is a different value system that structures work hours differently.  Chad doesn’t work 13-14 hour days in the US because he doesn’t value his family.  He works long hours because the culture is designed in a way that mandates it. Two-hour lunch breaks and siestas are the norm here because productivity is not the ultimate goal in life.  Can the US military operate on a 4 ½ hour work day and still maintain the most powerful military in the world? Probably not. However, every industry, company and individual can learn lessons from a culture that places a higher value on family and time than on productivity and output.  Even as a mom and a writer, I have much to learn in this area.  All too often I am a slave to my to-do list or my kid’s schedules.  It feels completely normal when everyone around you is spinning in a similar cyclone. However, when all of sudden you are the only one spinning, you stop and wonder why.  

I am a proud American and love so many things about my country and culture, but I’m thankful for the chance to reflect on it from the outside.  I hope we never jump back into the rat race in the same way because in the end the core of who I am is not an American.  I am a child of God and He is using this circumstance to teach us thing we could have never seen in the US.  

You may not be able to pack up and move to another country, but we can all stop and examine our lives. What’s keeping you plugged into the rat race?  What would have to happen to things to change? 

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Penguins and Depression

One evening shortly after he walked in the door, I began rapid-firing information at my husband, full-blown wife mode.  He replied, “Whoa. I cannot handle all of that information at once.  Penguins are quickly falling off the iceberg.”  As a writer, I love creating pictures with words, and instantly that image was seared in my mind.  Penguins.  Icebergs.

I have a lot of penguins on my iceberg these days.  I am a master trying to squeeze as many penguins on the iceberg as possible.  I balance them along the edges, maybe even stacking them on top of each other.  However, most days I have more casualties that I would like to admit.  We all experience times like that, important things sliding off, going undone or not done well in an effort to keep all the plates spinning.

There are however, some seasons that an earthquake hits and knocks all your penguins down and you struggle to find your equilibrium again.  Ever been there?

It is no accident that the blog has been silent for a while.  Writing is a unique job.  It is not simply a task that can be accomplished, at least not for me.

I’m not creative.  I don’t sew or paint.  I do not decorate with any enthusiasm.  I don’t craft or refinish furniture.  However, words are my medium.  I love crafting a story and communicating emotion through written word.  I constantly write in my head (chapters for a book, devotions, blog posts, letters), but sometimes there is just a block between the keyboard and me.

A fellow mom of four and I were chatting one day about work.  She’s a nurse.  She goes into work and can immediately immerse herself in the tasks of her job, even if the cares at home are weighing on her mind.  I envied a job where I could “check out” and just accomplish a task.

Writing for me is difficult when my mind is overwhelmed.  It’s not even writer’s block – the words are there – it is just sorting through the sea of emotions and thoughts to articulate them well.  For the past few years, I’ve sensed this sea of emotions growing inside me.  As the years past and hard times came, it became more than I thought I could bear at times.

People often seem me as competent and quick at organizing tasks; combined with my struggle to say “no,” it often leads to my calendar being overwhelmed. I organize and push my way through, even when I feel like I’m drowning.

When we lived in New York, I stood in a friend’s backyard.  I was preparing to move our family on mine own – a decision certainly not of my own choice.  After venting my frustrations and insecurities, my friend simply replied as she walked away to help her daughter, “Well, if anyone can handle it, I know you can.”  What she meant as a compliment stabbed like a knife in my heart.  I felt so alone.  With tears rolling down my face, I looked at her husband who stood just a few steps away and said, “Why does everyone think I’m so capable?”

See, I’ve built this wall of “capableness” around myself.  I would push through any obstacle to accomplish a task – sickness, sleep deprivation, friendships, people I love.  I viewed life almost exclusively through tasks to manage.  After 35 years of ordering my life like this, cracks began to show.

On more than one occasion in the last year, I would find myself sitting in my closet, sobbing, a weight of fear and failure surrounding me.  Tasks that seemed simple one day, would paralyze me the next.

This past November, I finally sought help.  I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety.

I was shocked when I heard the word depression.  I pictured depression like the commercials portray: someone who can’t get out bed and cries all the time.  After all, I only cried in my closet.  I couldn’t be depressed.   As I grew to accept the diagnosis, I felt a change.  I could put a label on what I was experiencing.  It didn’t define me.  It was a season of life I had to walk through, but it did not have to consume me.  It wasn’t who I was.

I have learned much about myself in the past few months as I have walked this road of healing.  I hope to share much of it here when I can move it from raw emotion, to a more comprehensible state, but here is one thing I know for sure – I am not alone in this diagnosis.  It is a crushing issue for our society and the church is not immune.

Anytime I share my diagnosis, I fear what others will think.  Few Christians talk about depression and I have always felt like it was something avoidable if you were growing in your relationship with the Lord.  I feared that people would look at me as if I had a “problem.” I have feared that people will view me differently and that the wall of “capableness” that I had so carefully erected would come crumbling down, leaving me exposed.  Those fears are all still real to me, but are just beginning to fade as I see light in this dark tunnel.

The light at the end of the tunnel is simply this – I am loved and accepted by God as His child no matter what I do.  I can’t earn anymore of His love an acceptance, no matter how hard I try, no matter how “good” I seem to be.  I am fully loved and accepted by my Heavenly Father, even in my lowest, ugliest, most miserable state.

If you are struggling with depression and anxiety, I urge you to seek help from a Christian professional.  Christ is the hope and the answer.  Just because the answer is easy, doesn’t mean it is an easy journey to get there though, I know, but there is HOPE!

Here are a couple of resources I have found useful.  I hope you will too.
Depression: The Church’s Best Kept Secret

Louie Giglio’s new book, Goliath Must Fall, is an excellent resource.  He also offer’s an encouraging seven-day devotional in which he talks about his own journey.  Sign up here.

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New Year, New Who?

Back in the day when I had one kid, didn’t homeschool, my husband was gone most of the time and was basically footloose and fancy free…I went to the gym 5-6 days a week. I would get so annoyed at all the people crowding the gym in January.  I knew I had about 6 weeks to endure the cramped weight room and classes until people would fizzle out and the new year’s resolutions would fade.

Don’t get me wrong, I can’t claim any moral high horse for resolutions.  I have a war within me though when it comes to resolutions.  I either get on a roll and list a lot of things that I want to do or improve or I refuse to make any.

A few years ago I heard a message from Andy Stanley where he concluded that most resolutions are focused on ourselves – how to make ourselves better.  He gave the challenge to focus on resolutions that would impact people outside your four walls.  That always brought me to an impasse when I would pick up my pencil and a fresh sheet of paper each January 1st.

So last year, I decided to make some goals and tried to focus at least half outside myself.  well…I just read my list from last year and realized I accomplished maybe 5% of my list.  Number one rule of goal setting – keep the goal in front of you or your will never accomplish it!  (Apparently I should have been training for a triathlon last year….)

The one area I did improve was reading.  Compared to some avid readers, my list looks measly, but I’m exciting about the upward movement.  I finished 8…almost 10 books:

1. Beneath the Surface
2. Best Yes
3. No Limits
4. A Woman of Strength and Purpose
5. Magnolia Story
6. Golden Rules
7. Killing Kennedy
8. Killing Lincoln
9. Shepherding a Child’s Heart
10. The First Five Pages: How to Stay Out of the Rejection Pile

In looking forward to this next year, I want attainable, yet stretching goals.  I want fewer goals and a determination to work toward them.  I want to paint with a broader stroke with the encouragement to improve, but not the condemnation for not checking a million boxes.  More forgiveness.  More grace.  Nothing like a little accountability, so here ya go…

Spiritually – renewed focus on prayer, summarize each Psalm and write out the book of James by memory

Relationships – One word: invest    Invest in my husband and my kids.  Not just doing things for them, but investing in them.  Invest in my family.  Invest in friendships, old and new.  Look people in the eye, see their needs, pray more for them and encourage them in new ways.

Professional – finish the book and trust the Lord to find a publisher

Physical – be consistent   Whatever it looks like, just be consistent in strengthening my body and being active to be a good steward of the years God has given me

Personal – read 20 minutes a day, finish at least one baby book (I know no one does it…but it is a strange, nagging desire of mine!) and floss everyday.  For real, this has been a goal for the past ten years and I just can’t seem to do it.

Dream big my friends.  Dreams will look different for each one of us.  Maybe you already floss everyday, but what is one thing you always say you are going to do, but just haven’t done it?  What could the Lord do through you this year? Don’t be afraid to get out a fresh, blank sheet of paper and see where the Lord wants you to go!

What are some of your resolutions for the New Year?

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Sneak Peek – When Hope Seems Lost

There I was again.  The same hospital.  The same waiting room.  Maybe even the same chair.  My two-year-old son, Harley, oblivious to my inner turmoil, sat next to me.  He wiggled down my legs onto the floor. My face winced as his chubby little hands hit the orange carpet.  While it appeared clean, I imagined the hospital floor must be crawling with germs. He had already been sitting for an hour at the cardiologist’s office.  Two-year-old boys don’t enjoy sitting – especially not quietly.  I tried to entertain him and keep my mind off where I was.  My hand rhythmically stroked his blonde hair as I watched the minutes tick by on the clock above the door.  I noticed his jeans hit just above his ankles; time to put those in the ever-growing pile for Goodwill.

The automatic doors shuffled quietly with the hustle and bustle of a busy hospital.  Each time they slid open, a wave of warm, humid air wafted inside.  Nearby, a young girl eagerly pushed a book into her mother’s hands.  I listened to a husband and wife behind me make plans for dinner that night.  She mentioned Mexican, but he wanted to try a new Chinese restaurant in the next town over.  Hunger pains gripped my stomach as I listened.

It had been a long afternoon.  It had been a long two years. I thrive on having a plan, on being in control; but the past two years had been a whirlwind of the unexpected. I clung to the fragments of life I could control, which were few and far between more often than not.  Today was supposed to be different. I knew the plan for today – my appointment with the cardiologist to discuss my upcoming heart ablation, a quick trip to the hospital for paperwork and pre-op blood work, a stop by the bank and then home to put Harley down for a nap.  Monday afternoon naps are quiet and peaceful – my reset from the weekend and busy Sundays at church. With my eyelids struggling to stay open, I planned to steal a nap with him today.

“Ashley Hallford”

I jumped at the sound of my own name.  I gathered Harley and his collection of cars and followed the nurse down the hallway, her eyes never leaving the chart in her hand.  The lines on the floor seemed to lead us like an ill-fated treasure map. As I turned the corner, I saw it.  The nurse led me straight to the room where, just over two years earlier, my journey began. The drab walls, still pale yellow, stood in desperate need of cheerful artwork or something to brighten the space.     A flood of emotions floated through my body, enveloping me as I stood in the doorway, briefly unable to move.  It was like someone sucked the air out of the room. When the nurse finally glanced up from the chart, she noticed tears running down my face.  Her eyes darted back to the chart, probably unsure of what to do.  I was there for routine, pre-op blood work.  A quick needle prick and two vials of blood and it would be over.  She couldn’t possibly have known the source of my distress.  She shifted her supplies and made small talk with Harley, in an attempt to give me a moment to relax.

“You ready, honey?”

I took a deep breath – forcing myself to regain my composure.  The needle pierced my vein; I didn’t flinch. After everything I had endured, I barely felt the prick of the needle anymore.  Harley’s wiggling had stopped. Mesmerized by the nurse’s quick, efficient movements, Harley sat motionless. It was as if time stopped for those few moments.  As I held my son I thought about all that had happened – much of it in this hospital – since that day.  The depths of sorrow and the height of joy were impossible to grasp.  My husband, David, and I had walked through a storm like none we had ever imagined and sitting there, I relived it all at high speed.

I was abruptly roused from my thoughts.

“You’re all done.  Have a good day.”

The nurse turned her back as she deposited the needle into the bin on the wall. I gathered Harley and stood up, steadying myself on the arm of the chair, with Harley’s little hand firmly in mine, his little round face and blue eyes looking intently up at my own face. I gave him a weak smile as I brushed the final tear away.

As I walked out of the room, I uttered a feeble, “Thank you,” and my feet rushed to put distance between me and that room.   Maybe the thank you was to the nurse or maybe it was more of a prayer.  So much uncertainty still swirled around me, but as I walked further down the hallway, my sorrow melted into thankfulness.  Even if I didn’t live another day – the past two years with my husband and son were simply a gift no one ever thought I would live to see.

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Things To Come

The response to my first few posts have been incredibly kind and encouraging.  The thought that people want to read my words and can glean encouragement from them is humbling.  I am grateful for the opportunity and want to provide content that is relevant and worth your time.

 

I am excited about this venture and wanted to share some plans I have for the blog as you follow along.

 

Mission Mondays

 

For years I’ve done a Missionary Monday with my kids during our homeschool time.  We have read missionary biographies and researched missionaries and projects from around the world.  This idea led me to the first series I will feature.

 

Every Monday I will highlight a missionary, mission project, adoptive family or organization that is being the hands and feet of Jesus to their community.  This series will feature interviews, ministry information and needs.

 

If you lead a small group or local church – this series could be a great resource in finding ministries to partner with and invest in financially.

 

I will regularly feature families in all stages of the adoption process, providing insight into the adoption journey and a platform for them to raise support.

 

If you have a ministry you would like me to feature, please contact me!

 

 

What We Love Wednesdays

 

This series will feature things I love that you might love too!   It will include book, music, artist and blog reviews and recommendations.  I may even throw in a favorite recipe on occasion.

 

Look in this section for me to share previews of my upcoming book!

 

If you have a product or blog you would like me to review, please contact me!

 

 

Feeling Friday

(*I reserve the right to change the name…just a weak attempt at the alliteration theme.)

 

These post will feature content similar to what I have posted previously – devotional thoughts, Biblical truths, challenges and insights.

 

I welcome guest blogs to this section!  Whether you maintain your own blog or you only want to write on occasion, please contact me if you are interested in writing a post.

 

 

Thanks for visiting – follow me on Facebook and sign up to follow this blog to ensure you receive updates about each post.

 

Have a great weekend!

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The Catalyst

Why did I take the plunge to write?

As an army wife and homeschooling mom of four,  I never dreamed I would have time for a career, at least not in the near future.  However, a few months ago, a desire stirred in my soul that I could not ignore.  I was in the midst of the toughest season of my life – a trial in our family, the birth of our fourth child, a move a few weeks later that took us away from dear friends, an ongoing battle with mastitis, and a debilitating round of the flu for the entire family, all while my husband was deployed for the third time.  I had no physical or emotional energy to think about new ideas.  I struggled each day to keep everyone fed and to keep our school year on track.

The kids and I spent the holidays in the southeast with my family and my in-laws.  We came back to Kansas in mid-January.  Between winter weather and sickness, we didn’t make it to church very often in January, but we did watch online.  The series, called Dream Again, began to shape the desires in my heart into tangible ideas.  (You can take a listen here )  I dared to pray and dream about what the Lord had planned.

With my feeble desires starting to grow, I began praying about my dreams.  What could I achieve?  Outside my family, what purpose did the Lord have for my life? I made a few new years resolutions.  I wrote them down knowing full well the statistics stacked against my success. The more I wrote, the more ambitious I became – spiritual, physical, emotional, and parenting goals.   However, my days were already so full.  How would I find time to achieve these goals, especially with my husband gone? I knew I had to dig for motivation to break small, time-wasting habits.

I distinctly remember sitting with a group of moms and one mom joking about her typical day: “I have two goals while the kids are at school – get dressed before they get back and watch Netflix.”  As I wrote out my goals for the year, that thought circled in my mind.  I didn’t know what I could actually hope to accomplish given my circumstances, but I knew I wanted more than to see how many Netflix series I could plow through in a year.  I wasn’t judging this mom, but I knew I wanted more.

The goal I wanted to focus on more than any other was to read.  With four young kids, I always claimed my days were too full to read, yet somehow I found time to watch TV and browse social media. I needed specific and achievable goals, so I made a list of fourteen books to read, trying to rotate between biographies (my fave) and spiritual growth books.  I purposed to read at least fifteen minutes before bed each night and took my book with me anytime I knew I would be waiting – doctor’s appointment, gymnastics classes, etc… I know for avid readers this would be a ridiculous standard, but I knew I had to start somewhere.

In my first few weeks of reading I read two Michael Phelps biographies.  If you know me, you know my obsession with the Olympics, It’s a bit extreme.  Thankfully my family loves the Olympics too, otherwise the Olympic viewing seasons would get a bit awkward.  Naturally books about my favorite Olympian were quick reads.  I am fascinated with people who set lofty goals, reach them and become the best in their field.  A natural follow-up book was his coach, Bob Bowman’s book – The Golden Rules: Finding World-Class Excellence in Your Life and Work. (find it here)

In combination with what the Lord was already stirring in my heart, that book flipped a switch in my head.  I did not want to live an ordinary life.  I did not want to settle for simply making it through each day.  I did not want to just survive my life.  Coach Bowman laid out 10 steps to achieve your goals.  Now I had traction for action steps to move my dreams into reality.

I knew I wanted to write, but did not have a concrete idea of what direction I wanted to take.  Just a few weeks later, the Lord orchestrated events that led me to my first project.  I am ghost writing a book for a friend.  It is an amazing story and I am excited to help her tell her story.

I look forward to where the Lord takes me on this journey of writing – telling stories, sharing encouragement and inspiring hope along the way.

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I’m a Writer

A few days ago someone asked me, “Do you work?”  I began with my typical, “I’m a mom…” response, but then I quickly followed it up:

“Actually, I’m a writer.”

It was the first time I said that to anyone.

So, I’m a writer.  I’m embarking on a new adventure and yet, in many ways just continuing to flesh out life through words as I always have.

The only qualification to being a writer is to write.  Sure, some writers are published and others aren’t, but a writer is someone who can’t help but write.  (Now, to get paid to write is another discussion…) They write books, articles, journals, blogs, scrapbooks – whatever medium they chose to record the world as they see it, to share what they’ve learned.  They feel the words in their head and have to write them. While some writers appreciate the nuances of language more than others, the basic message is still the same – we write to connect.  We write to connect the dots between thoughts in our brain, to connect ideas to the world, but most importantly to connect to people.  Through words we can move ideas, thoughts, emotions – the deepest cries of our soul – into the hearts of those around us.

Significant events in history have come through the written word:  Martin’s Luther’s 95 Theses, The Magna Carta, The Declaration of Independence.  Men and women have used words to inspire, rally and unity people to good: Henry’s “Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death,” Lincoln’s “Gettysburg Address,” King’s “I Have a Dream,” and Churchill’s “Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat.”  Men like Hitler used words to incite violence and hatred.  Words have power.  

Far surpassing these examples is the fact that the God of the Universe chose to communicate His story to us through words.  John called Jesus the Word.  With over 800,000 words God breathed hope into a dark and fallen world.  It’s no wonder that the Bible has exponentially sold more than any other book in history.

I’m excited that you’ve read this far and pray that you visit again.  May my words encourage you, inspire you and connect with you in a way that points you to the only source of Hope – Jesus.