Dwell in Me

Seeking God in the Every Day


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Conscientious Eating

Now, a year into our official IF diagnosis, I can look back and see a few ways that we have actually benefited from infertility. Would I have chosen infertility as the mode for these benefits? Probably not. But it wasn’t my decision, and I’m trying to make the most of our circumstances.

One of the benefits of infertility for us has been the improvements in our diet. Well, I guess more than that, the improvements in how we think about food. If we ever do receive the blessing of children, I am confident that this knowledge and how we are incorporating that knowledge in our meals will be beneficial for their nutrition as well. And I doubt we would have cared very much about this subject had we not received our infertility diagnosis.

Cucumber and Avocado

As we dove into research about infertility, a few things kept coming up about the food we were eating. Recognizing that infertility is ultimately a health issue–that we are dealing on some level with an imbalance in hormone levels–we have embarked on a journey to try to improve our health. This includes exercise, going to bed at a reasonable hour, and, of course, eating better. To clarify, we’re not trying to improve our diets in an effort to lose weight (though, I must admit, there is a little extra hanging around my hips that I wouldn’t mind getting rid of). 

Lucky for me, DH will eat anything. (Seriously. If he doesn’t like a food but is convinced of its health benefits, he will eat it anyway.) And the foods I don’t particularly like, while bordering on un-American, tend not to be good for me (hot dogs, potato chips, lunch meat). So making adjustments to improve our diets isn’t so much of a problem of not liking nutritious foods as it is not knowing where to start.

As I started researching all things nutrition, I quickly found myself overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information. And it’s not straightforward and scientific: everybody seems to have their own opinion. Cut gluten. Cut dairy. To be healthy, eat more fats. Cut out all the fats. Follow a simple “calories in, calories out” equation. Don’t pay attention to calories, but eat whole, healthy, natural foods. Low carb. Paleo. No refined sugars. No sugars at all (maybe or maybe not including fruit). Take a teaspoon of [enter choice: honey, apple cider vinegar, cod liver oil, grass-fed cows’ butter, all of the above] daily. And on and on and on.

I haven’t figured this out yet. Not even close. But I thought I’d share what we are doing and what I am learning as I keep trying to distill the information I have and, where applicable, share some healthful (or maybe not, depending on your take on the theories alluded to above) recipes or meals we have enjoyed.

We’re considering some more drastic changes going forward. But we also want to be flexible. We’re not extremists, and that extends to our nutrition. If I’m at your house for dinner, I’m not going to be checking ingredients and debating whether to eat what you’re serving. I’m not going to choose not to go out with friends because the restaurant won’t have healthy options (and, sadly, most of the restaurants here in Katy are lacking nutritious food). But we are trying to make healthier decisions when we can.

The overarching theory we’re kind of following–if it can be boiled down to any overarching theory–is that whole, unprocessed foods are likely more healthful and nutritious than their processed counterparts. Of all the nutrition information I’ve read, that makes the most sense to me. I’ll go into more detail on what we are and are not eating in future posts.

If you’re trying to eat better, where did you start?

What advice would you share with someone trying to make improvements?

Is a gradual approach better than nothing, or do you need to go all or nothing to see health benefits?

What theories of nutrition do you absolutely buy into–or absolutely disagree with?


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When Plans Change

There are things that are naturally hard for us. And we can go with the flow and get pushed backwards sometimes, or we can fight against those challenges to get where we need to go.

I took this video of salmon in a fish ladder last summer when we were vacationing in Oregon and Washington State. On our way from Oregon to Washington, we stopped at Bonneville Dam on the Columbia River and got to see the fish swimming upstream. In the video, you can see that sometimes they seem to be making great progress, when all of a sudden the current overwhelms them and they are pushed backward, only to have to do it all again (see especially the little fish starting at about 00:12).

I think–and this may be wildly inaccurate–that we face certain tests in this life over and again until we can pass them.

For me, one of those tests I keep failing and retaking has to do with changing plans. 

For some reason, I am terrible at this. If I make a plan–even if it’s just in my mind–I intend to follow through on it. Now, I’m quite forgiving of myself. See, today I was planning on doing some little chores around the house–vacuuming and dusting and so forth–but I’m not doing them today because I had a headache earlier and I’m on my period and I can do them tomorrow. I’m so very flexible with myself.

But when my plans have to change because of other people, I am less forgiving. And if I know you well enough, like my poor DH, I may get angry or at least frustrated about the change in plan. I’m really terrible.

And the truth is, sometimes plans change. Definitely more often than I’d like.

Once, a few years ago, DH was really sick. Now, he is a boy, so “really sick” for him is maybe or maybe not the same as “really sick” for me. But anyway, he stayed home from work and was certainly not feeling well. We were living in Arlington, VA, and were supposed to go that evening to an event to see Elinor Ostrom speak. She won the Nobel prize in economics in 2009, so I suppose this was in the fall of 2010. I went to work and DH stayed in bed. And then, after work, I went to see Ms. Ostrom speak, as I’d planned. 

DH didn’t appreciate my going. He thought I should have come home and taken care of him instead. And maybe I should have.

I don’t like it when plans change.

I didn’t like it when our plans to get pregnant two years ago did not come to fruition. I was concerned something must be wrong within the first few months because things weren’t proceeding according to plan.

But I’ve noticed this problem I have. I’ve made enormous strides with all the plan-changng and rearranging we’ve dealt with in our IF treatments. And I’m trying to get over it. I handled our move to College Station and, shortly thereafter, to Katy quite well considering that both moves were not according to our plan. I’m evolving and maturing and getting good at this whole plan-changing thing!

And isn’t it funny that when you think you’ve mastered a new skill a little, tiny, insignificant test comes along and you fall flat on your face?

This morning, I was running a little behind what I had planned. I did my grocery shopping, albeit about 2 hours later than I’d wanted to leave the house. I’d created a to-do list that would have been completely doable if I’d not been behind but which would be tight now that I was late. I was sitting on the back patio reading my Bible study workbook for my small group tomorrow night, nodding right along as I read, “Complete obedience to God requires a commitment to modify and change our plans at a moment’s notice,”* when my phone rang.

Now, DH never calls me from work. But here it was, 12:07 p.m., and our conversation went like this:

ME: Is something wrong?

DH: No. I was wondering, could you take my car for an oil change this afternoon?

[He had switched cars with me this morning to avoid driving many more miles before getting the oil changed.]

ME: Oh. Really? I thought you were going to do it. I don’t know…

DH: I found a place. I can make an appointment. It’s right by the house and it’s much less expensive than anything I can find near the office. You can do it tomorrow. Or, well, any day this week. Does any time work for you?

ME: I wish you’d told me earlier. I mean, if I’d known, I would have taken it before I went to the store. Now I have other things I’ve planned to do . . . whine . . . whine . . . [You get the idea.]

DH: Never mind. I’ll do it myself tomorrow. Thanks anyway.

I turned back to my Bible study and reread the paragraph I’d been reading when he called me, “. . . a commitment to modify and change our plans at a moment’s notice,” and I knew I had failed this test . . . again.

I did end up getting the oil changed. But I was so whiny about it, and I made it such a chore. I suppose I should be glad I was able to redeem my failure and that this test was just a little thing.

I’m still learning.

And that evil, current still gets me backsliding when I least expect it.

*Quotation from Priscilla Shirer, Discerning the Voice of God: How to Recognize When God Speaks, member book (Nashvile, TN: LifeWay Press, 2006), 112.


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Because of Infertility

Years after the car accident–the one she was in as a six-year-old that took her sister’s life–Shelly still suffered from survivor’s guilt. It came and went over the years, but the idea that she should have at least suffered physically, instead of walking away from the wreck, haunted her.

At one point, when she’d thought she had finally gotten past the lingering effects of the accident, Shelly began to have terrible dreams. Night after night she would awaken after seeing herself maimed and injured, but never killed, in her dreams.

As she was walking across her college campus one day after a particularly vivid dream, she felt God speak clearly to her. He first reminded her that she was physically fine. None of these things in her imagination or thoughts from her subconscious had happened. But what he followed with is why I’m telling this story:

Think, he said, If you were maimed or severely injured, think of the people you would be able to reach for me and for my glory that you cannot connect with currently. Think of the great work I would have for you that you would be able to accomplish because of–not in spite of–such a physical challenge.*

She thought about it and laughed. Of course God was right. Of course he would be able to use anything that happened in her life for good and for his glory. At the realization, as this sunk in, she says she felt her spirits lift. A burden of worry and a weight of fear were lifted.

And the dreams stopped. To this day–and she has grown children now–she has not had nightmares or feelings of survivor’s guilt.

Sitting above the Clouds, Inca Trail, Peru

I think the lesson translates as easily to infertility as to any other struggles that we, through our human eyes, see as hindering our ability to be successful or happy. I know there are things I do because of infertility that I wouldn’t be able to do if I’d gotten pregnant right away. God can use me in a way I never would have expected because I haven’t been able to have children. Especially if I’m willing to surrender and listen to him.

God will use us in the shape we’re in. And he will use the imperfections, the challenges, the pain, the heartaches in our lives to use us in different and better ways. He will truly work all things to the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purposes.

____

*There are no direct quotations from God in this post. I’m paraphrasing from a second-hand source. But I did my best to recreate what I heard and stay true to the point of the message.

Shelly told this story to a group of women in a Bible study through my church. She told it, and many other stories from her life and other’s lives, because faith stories build faith, as she said. And she graciously gave me permission to share this story here.


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Out of My Head, into My Heart

I’m not a very emotional person–at least compared to other women I know. I live my life through my head. It’s hard–so hard–for me to get things into my heart.

I think sometimes this means I’m not a very compassionate person. I struggle with sympathy, not to mention empathy.

People talk about feeling someone’s pain so deep that it feels like it’s their pain. Or seeing something beautiful and just feeling this little twinge of emotion that flows up like something real and tangible.

Not me.

Like a white-washed tomb–my heart felt empty and unmoved inside this body.

Recoleta Cemetery, Buenos Aires

One of the biggest struggles I’ve had through infertility is convincing my heart that what I believe in my head is true. I’ve called this the head knowledge-gut faith disconnect.

And one of the biggest blessings of infertility is that my heart seems to be working better. Like infertility is the hammer that has broken my heart open and at the same time knocked down the walls I’d built around it. The feeling is coming back, empathy and compassion are slowly seeping in. Not perfect, but gradually coming to life within me.

Outside Recoleta Cemetery,  Buenos Aires

That opening up makes me hurt more. Opening up lets in the good with the bad, the pain with the joy, the heartache with the peace. And it is what enables me to trust that what God says is true, that God is who he says he is. That God is everything to me. These weren’t possible with my hardened, sealed up heart.

So today, my heart is aching. Aching for one of my only “real life” friends who is dealing with this infertility mess. Her embryo didn’t make it in her first IVF transfer.

And she says she is struggling with this same head knowledge-gut faith disconnect right now.

Praying for her today. For her faith and trust in God. For peace and strength. And for beauty in the pain of death.

And thanking God that he has used infertility for my good and his glory. That I can be there for my friend because of where I’ve been and where I’m going.

I may have picked a different road in life. But God knew where I needed to be today and how to get me here.


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Learning to Know God Intimately

God is really doing a work in me. While I have been neglecting my relationship with God, he is slowly, sweetly wooing me to an intimacy with him beyond my imagination.

Pelicans

When God wants to get a message across, I love how he does it over and over and over. Apparently he knows subtlety doesn’t work with me–or that this message is too important for subtlety.

And I can’t help but feel that I should be the one striving to have a relationship with God–not the other way around.  He does not need my friendship, there is nothing I can offer him, yet I am convinced there is nothing the Father would not do to woo me to himself.

From today’s reading in my One Year Bible (NLT), God repeated this relationship theme three times. These verses reinforce both how I need that relationship with God and why I am so very blessed to have the opportunity to be in a right and restored relationship with him!

As David is passing the kingdom to Solomon he gives this advice I needed to hear:

“And Solomon, my son, learn to know the God of your ancestors intimately. Worship and serve him with your whole heart and a willing mind. For the LORD sees every heart and knows every plan and thought. If you seek him, you will find him. But if you forsake him, he will reject you forever” (I Chronicles 28:9).

And we have the privilege of having this relationship, as Paul writes:

“So now we can rejoice in our wonderful new relationship with God because our Lord Jesus Christ has made us friends of God” (Romans 5:11).

And finally:

“Yes, Adam’s one sin brings condemnation for everyone, but Christ’s one act of righteousness brings a right relationship with God and new life for everyone” (Romans 5:18)

What a beautiful reminder of the lengths God has gone to get to us. As blessed as I am by my friendships on this earth, how much more of a blessing it is to have the God of the Universe as a dear and intimate friend.


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And There Was Light: Choosing God

Sometimes God prevents things in our lives that he knows would pull our hearts away from him. I heard this and thought: Lord, would a baby do that? Would I put my baby over you?

The sad truth is, I don’t know. I’d like to think I wouldn’t. I think dealing with infertility makes it more likely that I will put any future children on a pedestal, though. But maybe being infertile also gives perspective. And I know I have some time to think about this and make sure that I won’t have a child I value more than God.

This realization led to a difficult prayer. Perhaps the most difficult prayer I’ve prayed. I meant it, though. Every word. And I still do:

Lord, if having a child would draw my heart away from you or cause me to delight in the baby or pregnancy or any aspect of it more than I delight in you–let me continue to be infertile. Let me know that my relationship with you really is enough. I don’t need anything else. And if you will for me to be childless or to not have biological children with my husband, or anything along those lines, let me trust that your will is good and perfect. Help me believe and know in my innermost being that you are all-sufficient for me. That I need nothing but you in my life.

I want to delight in the Lord. Oh how I want him to be my delight. I want to seek his face. I want to be a woman after God’s heart!

I think about Paul and his conversion experience. This man was a Pharisee. Legalistic as they come. He knew the law forward and backward, but when the Messiah came he missed it. His response to what he heard about Jesus? Kill the believers. Stop the heresy.

And then, one day, on his way to Damascus, Paul was struck by a blinding light, and Jesus spoke.

There had to be something so beautiful, so compelling about Jesus. Paul saw it that day–though in seeing he became physically blind for a time. He saw something that was glorious and wonderful and amazing enough that he turned completely from what he had been, from what he was doing, from what he wanted to do with his life. He turned his life completely to serving God and Christ. He turned his life completely to having a relationship with Jesus and to helping others know his savior.

I submit that you don’t do a 180 like that in life without good reason.

What a reminder that knowing Jesus is worth everything. Choosing anything over that relationship with my heavenly Father, with my Savior–that’s utter foolishness. I repent, Lord, for I have done that in the past. And I pray that I will live with God supreme in my life. My God. My Great God.

The God who gave us light.

Sunrise over the Mekong

Sunrise over the Mekong, Chiang Khong, Thailand

As an aside: this is not to say that I think our infertility is necessarily God’s will for my life–or for anyone’s. Some will disagree with me on this, but I just don’t believe that God’s will is always done. I believe a lot of the pain and suffering that we experience in this world is a consequence of the fall. I believe the sins of man generally have a negative effect on us personally. (I’ve written about this before.)

But I also believe that God will make even infertility something for our good. I’m starting to see the ways he is working it for our good even now.


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Learning to Listen

I have been looking in the Bible and crying out to God in prayer and meditation in hopes of finding a certain answer or an answer to a certain question. You’ve probably guessed the answer I’m looking for is “Yes,” and the question is “Will you give me a child?”

But today I realized that this is the wrong way to be approaching God. I knew that already, but I don’t think I realized how much I have been treating God as some kind of magic genie. Instead, I need to be listening to God to hear what he wants to teach me and see what he wants to show me. I need to be growing closer to him so I will know him better and see him moving in my life. I need a relationship with God, not a vending machine for my every whim.

Psalm 37:4 says, “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

I heard recently that when it says “desires of your heart” here, it doesn’t mean that you will get anything you want from God (that’s back to the vending machine thing, huh?). Instead, it means that God will put desires in your heart that are in line with his will. I like that interpretation. It makes sense to me.

I thought I hadn’t been hearing much from God lately, but as I look back, I see that he’s been communicating with me all along. He just hasn’t necessarily been talking about what I thought I wanted him to talk about. What he’s been saying instead is, “Trust me. Do not be afraid. Do not worry.”

And as I trust him more and allow fear and anxiety less of a hold over my life each day, I can see that these things are changing my life. 

It turns out he’s been giving me exactly what I need exactly when I need it.


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Evicting Fear

I have an enemy called Fear. We don’t get along well, but I have, off and on,  allowed Fear to be a close companion. And not in the “keep your enemies closer” kind of way.

Fear keeps sneaking up on me and trying to steal my joy. She sneaks into my thoughts and tells me lies. Lies like I’ll never be fulfilled if I don’t have children. Lies like I’m wasting my life waiting around for a baby. Lies like I’d better hurry up and figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life, because I’m clearly not having a child any time soon.

For months I let fear live with me. She came in and made a pleasant little home for herself. When my thoughts would stray toward our infertility, she was right there ready to tell me all the reasons my life looked bleak. When I spent a day at home without a lot of work I needed to do, she taunted me. When I wondered where I was going or what I was going to do, she egged me on. “Worry more,” she’d say. “There’s so much you should be worried about.”

Fear has a few buddies she invited over for regular, noisy parties. Anxiety would come. Low Self-Esteem always showed up. Loneliness was definitely around. But the life of the party was Worry. They all came and they always made a mess.

Anxiety always echoed Fear’s haunting chorus: “You’ve got nothing. You’re going nowhere.” And added, “What are we going to do?”

Low Self-Esteem said, “Without children, who are you? You’re not valuable to future generations. You’re not worthy of your mommy-friends. And you’re really letting yourself go these days.” (Okay, there may be some truth to that last one . . .)

Loneliness tried to make me forget that I am never alone, that God is always with me. She tried to make me forget that  my husband, my best friend,  is here for me. Loneliness tried to tell me my friends, especially the ones who live far away, were too busy with their own, more important, lives to have time to talk to me. Loneliness told me that I didn’t fit in–that I’m too long married to be with the “young marrieds” and too barren to hang with the fertile crowd.

And Worry. She got into everything. Every aspect of my life was under her purview. “What if your husband has a terrible car accident on his way to work? Then you’ll really be alone. What if you get everything in order and still can’t make a baby? What if you can’t have any children? What will you do with yourself then? What if . . .”

A mess indeed. I look back on those months and I remember the company I was keeping–the company I was feeding and allowing to be part of my life–and it’s no wonder that I was depressed. That I was always tired. That I felt Hope slipping away.

And then something changed. Slowly, I began to realize that I was nourishing all of these negative voices instead of the positive voices that were standing at the door and waiting to be let in to influence my life. I was feeding Fear and Worry. I was giving them a free pass. But I didn’t have to do that.

And I found in the Word, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love casts out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love” (I John 4: 18).

And I found in the Word, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (Philippians 4:6).

I find today that I am not afraid. I’m not afraid that we won’t be able to have children even with help. It may happen, but I’m not afraid of it. I’m not afraid that I will not be a mother. I may never be a mother, but I’m not afraid. I don’t need to worry about tomorrow–I need to live today.

I am choosing Joy instead of Worry and Peace instead of Anxiety. I am choosing Love instead of Fear. And maybe when Love comes in and finds it is at home, Fear is evicted and can’t find a place to lay her head. Love trumps Fear. Love wins.


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Our Nursery

Confession: We have a nursery in our house.

When we moved into the house, we set aside one of the three bedrooms as a nursery. I didn’t want anything to go in it. I was so sure that we would be decorating it soon for a baby and I didn’t want to end up putting a bunch of junk in there that we would need to find new places for when a baby was on the way.

When we received our infertility diagnosis, our view of things changed. The “nursery” became the spare bedroom. We let some things get piled up in there–but it mostly just has books lining the walls. The books are waiting for shelving we plan to build in our office, a project that will almost surely be completed before we have a baby.

Then we read a book called The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson. My mom gave it to me in February when she and my dad came for a visit. And DH and I read a chapter each night together until we finished the book. The book is all about prayer–powerful prayer. It’s not about getting what you want from God. It’s more about getting what God wants for you by dedicating yourself to praying more consistently and with more intention and focus.

I don’t really know how to explain it, but after reading that book we decided to rechristen the room as the nursery. DH and I have made a habit of going in there every night to pray specifically about our hope for a child, asking God to mold our desires to his, and telling God that we have planned this room as a nursery and that we will keep asking for his blessing in that room until he directs us in a different way. We read prayers or Bible verses and we add our own prayers. Sometimes we stay in there for just a few minutes. Sometimes much longer. We say we are using the nursery as a prayer circle.

Before I only ventured in there if I was looking for a book. Now we go in every day. It used to feel haunted, and there is no baby there–yet. But I have come to enjoy having a place that helps us focus our prayers.

And perhaps one day the nursery will be used for a baby of ours. Or perhaps God has another plan. We’ll have to wait and see what he intends for us. In the meantime, I am so grateful to have a God who hears our prayers and who cares about our desires. And I trust that his will is best for our life, even if things turn out differently than I think I want.

Is there something you want to pray more intentionally about? What do you do to focus your prayers? Is there something I can pray for you? I’d be honored to join you in praying for God’s direction and peace in your life.


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Modern Miracles?

I’ve been a negligent blogger lately. I guess if I want to over-analyze, it’s probably not a bad thing. I started the blog because I needed a space to write and air my grievances, a space to heal. And I needed to know I wasn’t the only person out here on this messed up ride called infertility. So the fact that I haven’t felt as compelled lately to post–well, I think it may indicate that my attitude has improved. And it has. The peace I mentioned in my last post apparently wasn’t just a momentary fluke, because I’m still feeling it.

My circumstances haven’t changed. We’re still waiting. And honestly, hoping and praying we’ll end up avoiding actually doing inferitlity treatments. It’s a long shot, for sure, but wouldn’t that be amazing? And I know nothing is too difficult for the LORD.

All this has had me thinking lately about miracles and answered prayers. How many miracles do we ignore completely? How many answers to prayer do we miss because we’re too caught up in the day to day? This season of infertility has called our attention more and more toward how God is moving in our lives all the time, in ways we maybe wouldn’t have called out or mentioned before.

It has been amazing to grow through this difficulty with my best friend. I’ve watched his faith deepen throughout the past several months. He’s thanking God for things I don’t think he would have seen God’s hand in even six months ago. He’s taking more leadership for our family as the spiritual head of our household. I have a tendency to step in and take over, infringing on his leadership, but I’ve been praying that would change, and that DH would really be the spiritual leader of our house. Another answer to prayer?

And little tiny things–like how DH’s car passed its inspection this weekend despite having an indicator light on that best estimates suggest will require a $1000 fix we just can’t afford right now. And how our first two rounds of medicine were free because the insurance company and/or the pharmacy messed up and told us they were covered 100 percent, and they actually went by what they told us despite the fact that it should have cost $500+ each time. And how they billed our most recent round of meds as a $20 copay (by the grace of God!).

There are everyday little things that may seem insignificant, but it is so nice to be reminded that God has not forgotten us. He hears us and he cares about us. He’s in it with us and he knows how he will resolve things for us. What an incredible relief!

Ultimately, it’s a reminder that I’m a benefactor of the ultimate miracle: that God loved me enough to find a way to pay the cost of my sin. Forgiveness: What a miracle.

Miracles really do happen all the time. I pray that I won’t be blind to them in my life. And that seeing miracles–both those that affect me directly and others’ answers to prayer–will strengthen my faith that God is, absolutely, beyond any doubt, able to work the miracle of children in my life should he choose. And if not, it’s not because of any lack on his part. It’s because he has something better planned.

Praise God. The God who heals and hears and IS.