The first six months: pt. 1

One of my favorite pics of SB. She's a goofy nut most of the time, and a blessing to us all the time.
Me and my boys. We should have named John-John "Mini-Marc." They fill my life with lots of laughter.
One of my all-time favorite pictures of us. When did Hannah get to be so gorgeous? She's about two inches taller now than she was in this picture. Yikes!!!

As of this week, we have been on the field for six months. I thought it might be interesting to take a look backward at the time we've been here and share some things that have helped us get through the rough patches.

One of those things, for me at least, is music. So I thought for today's blog, I'd share some of the music that has been especially meaningful to me in these past six months. So here's the list (I've listed the people who sing the song I'm listening to, so that you can find a copy if you'd like):

You are my hiding place.
You always fill my heart with songs of deliverance.
Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You.
(Hiding Place, Selah)

• This song is based on Psalm 32:7, and it's always been meaningful to me, but even more so here. When we first got here, and I looked out the window every morning at this big, gigantic city, I felt nothing but overwhelmed. I would just whisper the words to this song again and again, reminding myself that no matter where I am, He alone is my hiding place. (So there was no need to lock myself in my apartment and sit in the fetal position, even on days when that seemed clearly to be the best course of action.)

I hear the music and I try to sing along.
You are the author and the orchestra of every single song.
You are forever.
(You are forever, Travis Cottrell)

• One of the most difficult things for me is that I no longer sing. Of course, there's my kitchen and the shower, both venues in which I'm in high demand, but I very often get through an entire church service without opening my mouth to sing a song. If the songs are traditional Russian hymns, I simply can't read fast enough while trying to keep up with the melody, which I don't know. Of course, I never sing in public here. It hurts. It cuts deep into the core of who I am not to sing. And I believe this is only temporary. When I am proficient enough in the language, I fully intend to find a choir to sing in from time to time. But for now, one of the things God has taught and is teaching me is that the real song, the one He cares about most, is the song I sing with my life. He has shown me that even here (maybe especially here?), there is music everywhere I look. I just have to hear the song He's playing for me.

You are God alone
From before time began
You were on Your throne
You were God alone.
And right now,
in the good times and bad,
You are on Your throne.
You are God alone.
You're unchangeable.
You're unshakable.
You're unstoppable.
(Not a god (God alone), Billy and Cindy Foote)

• One of my all-time favorite songs to listen to and to sing, this song has gotten me through plenty of days when I wanted to question what in the world God was thinking bringing us here. Doesn't everyone need a reminder from time to time that no matter what is going on, He is the only God there is? There is none like Him. He cannot be stopped, shaken, or changed. The demons hear His name and tremble. What is there to fear if He is on His throne?
  

When peace like a river attendeth my way,
when sorrows like sea billows roll,
whatever my lot, You have taught me to say,
"It is well, it is well with my soul."
(It is well with my soul, Chris Rice)

• Many, many nights I have turned off the lights in my kitchen, stood at the window looking out on the city, and whispered the words to this song. Even when I didn't feel like it was well with my soul, I knew that God could hear my heart and knew that I longed for His peace. And you know what? My cup runs over. It turns out that if we just white knuckle it through hard times, holding on to what God has told us is absolute truth, His peace attends our way. What kind of love is this? I can't explain it, but oh, my friends, I am grateful it is mine.

Here I raise my Ebenezer,
here by Thy great help I've come.
And I hope by Thy good pleasure
safely to arrive at home.
(Come, Thou fount of every blessing, Chris Rice)

• And so here we are, six months into our first term. We have survived a Russian winter, terrible flu, language training (at least we've survived it until now--I'm making no promises about verbs of motion), loneliness, homesickness, Christmas, Easter, birthdays (except Hannah's, which is tomorrow), homeschool, and a host of other things that would take too long to mention. And what we've found is this truth: He is enough. He is home. He is friendship. He is more than we could ever know or need. He is enough. I'm raising my Ebenezer, and I'm planting it on that truth. He has brought us here. The better news is that He came with us, and that we are never alone. I think that's a pretty firm foundation, don't you?

So how about you? What things has God taught you in the last six months? Think about it, because that's where I'm headed next. I hope wherever you are in the world, you are resting in the truth of who He is, and drinking a Sonic diet coke for me (and crunching the ice). Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye