Warning: no deep meaning is in this post!

Marc blowing out the candle on his birthday cake. That is, by the way, a tombstone-shaped candle, courtesy of my friend, Frances.

Blessed be the LORD, for He has made marvelous His lovingkindness to me in a besieged city. Psalm 31:21

Okay, so the big joke about our blogs is that Marc's is "we had tacos last night for dinner" and mine is "we had tacos last night for dinner...and this is how that makes me think of Jesus." What can I say? I'm a Jesus girl. But today's post, which I must do pretty quickly if I'm going to get us to church on time, is nothing deep. These are just some funny or interesting things that have happened in the last week or so.

• Marc took me on a date last night. A real one. We went to TGIFriday's and ate like pigs. It was fabulous. We've decided that once a month, we must escape and do something alone.
  
• We decided to re-arrange our apartment so that Marc can have some office space. Our bedroom is now the kids' bedroom, their bedroom is our bedroom and office, and the hall is the playroom. (The hall was the playroom anyway--that's where there is big, open space to see how far your playmobil guy will slide and then at what force he will hit the wall.)
  
• Because we have rearranged our apartment, it looks like we've just moved in. There is stuff everywhere. Add to that the stuff we bought from our friends who are returning to the states, and you get a mess that is basically the equivalent of a tornado hitting the apartment. Good times!
• We celebrated Marc's birthday in English Club on Thursday night. We made American party food and they made acrostics of Marc's name with adjectives that describe him. The "M" for one team was manly, and the "r" was really manly. I laughed so hard I nearly choked on a meatball.
  
• I used the tombstone candle on Marc's brownie for English Club (Russians don't make brownies and cakes like we do...they always look at my baked goods with either awe or suspicion), and then spent twenty minutes trying to explain the idiom "over the hill." "It's like life is a hill, and once you turn forty, you are on the down hill side of the hill." "But, Kellye, why is Marc down the hill? I don't understand." You try to explain American idioms. It ain't easy, my friends. It ain't easy.
• John was asleep late one morning, and I was putting some clothes in his schkaff (I think in America we would call this a wardrobe), when he sat straight up in bed. He looked at me with panic in his eyes and said, "What did I miss?" When I assured him he'd missed nothing, he replied, "Oh, thank goodness" and went back to sleep.
• Sarah Beth and I have a new game we play with our cat, Nochka. We've decided she is a Russian agent (Codename: Nochka), and that she is constantly devising ways to kill the silly Americans in their sleep. Honestly, I'm going to have to get Sarah Beth on video doing this, because it's hysterical. Add to this that Nochka is now wearing a collar with a little jingly bell (a gift we received in a box from the States), and you can imagine the stuff Sarah Beth is making up. Hysterical. I do know, by the way, that it is a little sad that this is what we do with our free time.
• On the metro Friday, Sarah Beth and I were absolutely crushed in a car with wall-to-wall people and a drunk guy behind Sarah Beth. When he pushed up against her in a way she didn't think was necessary, she elbowed him until he moved. Then she pushed a lady's bag (which the lady kept rudely shoving in S.B.'s face) back at her. My kid has become one tough Russian since she moved here. (That's a good thing, by the way. If you stand up for yourself, most people will stop doing whatever it is they're doing.)
• Marc has taken to wearing a fanny pack. It's either that, or a vest that Russian men wear with lots of pockets in it--like a fishing vest. But he is definitely wearing a fanny pack. I'll just leave it at that.
  

I think that's it. I've been saving up some of that stuff. It feels good to get it off my chest. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that funny stuff is happening to you every day, and that your home doesn't look like a hurricane just hit and you're cleaning up from the damage. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Numbering my days

Who understands the power of Your anger and Your fury, according to the fear that is due You? So teach us to number our days, that we might present to You a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:11-12

"Your primary task is to seek God. He knows how to reach your people group." Jerry Rankin

I was reminded again yesterday that time is flying by in the lives of my children. Yesterday, Hannah participated in the fifth grade promotion ceremony. Mr. Hays, the teacher in the video above, was gracious enough to allow Hannah to come and be a part of the class she will be in full-time next year. He had such nice things to say about Han, as you can hear in the video, but the most profound moment came after he was done. Hannah sat down, I put away the video camera, and my friend, Frances, said, "That's the real Hannah, Kellye." It's hard, isn't it, to view your children objectively. In our situation, we are on top of each other, irritating one another, all day long. It's hard to always remember that Hannah has a beautiful smile and a soul that is filled with gentleness. It's hard to appreciate Sarah Beth's sense of individuality. It's hard to love John's love for all of God's "little guys." It's hard because all of that stuff is there amidst the arguing, the calling of names (Marc and I try to not do that, but...:o), the leaving of wet towels everywhere (did my kids always do that, or do I just notice it more now?), the whining and complaining about taking out the trash. So God gives us these moments, when we get to see our children through the eyes of others and appreciate who they are becoming while we are concentrating on the minutiae. The volunteer team from U of Mobile did that for me with Sarah Beth. She went everywhere with them, translating and helping them order food, talking to people at concerts, walking miles to just be there and help with what she could. As I watched the team interact with her, it struck me that Sarah Beth gets it. She understands what we're doing here. She gets the idea of creating places where we can meet people where they are. I watched her in English Club last night, participating in a group, laughing and joking with our students, and I appreciated, again, that her life has real meaning here. She's not just another teenager doing teenager things, though those things are fun and she enjoys them, too. Somewhere along the way, my kids have turned into the best missionaries I know.

Sometimes, I do not number my days correctly. I am thinking about yesterday, or last year, or three years from now when we're on Stateside. But today, this moment, is the heart of what God has for me right now. Whatever today holds--a language lesson, math and science tests for Han and S.B., helping with Hinkson's graduation this afternoon, a sleepover at our house tonight--is full of the things God has for me in this season of life. I can't tell you what will happen tomorrow, or next month, or next year. I can tell you what our plans are, but I don't know what God's plans are. Maybe He tells you the five-year-plan ahead of time, but He doesn't tell me ahead of time. I usually get a day at a time, and that's it. So in order to number my days correctly, in order to present a heart of wisdom to my Maker, today is where I need to be. Not in yesterday's pain, yesterday's joy, not in the States at some point in the future, not anywhere but here.

I'm so proud of my kids. I know you likely get sick of hearing about them, but I have to tell you that they are the most amazing thing I have ever done. I have taught lots of students over the years, had some nice stuff said about me as a teacher, even received some awards and degrees. None of that can compare to the joy of watching my kids turn into the people God created them to be. What an honor and a privilege. Plus, they're really pretty fun. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you have the chance to see your children through the eyes of someone else, and that you have some Zicam on hand for your headcold. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

I'm tired of goodbyes

Rose and Kristen, the daughters of our friends Frances and Kris. These are funny, funny girls.
Andrew has literally just said, "Aunt Kellye, don't take my..." Yeah. I didn't listen.
This is me with my friend, Addie. Addie is from Great Britain, and she has the coolest accent ever. She is here as part of FBC, Fort Lauderdale, which is a hugely missions-minded church.
Frances managed to find a tombstone, "over the hill" birthday candle and loaned it to me. What would I do without such good friends?

Do not love the world nor the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. I John 2:15

Right before we left Florida, I had to go to the eye doctor, because my eyes were so dry that I literally was having trouble seeing (and I looked like I was smoking a crack pipe because they were so red). He is a family friend, knew we were leaving for the mission field, and asked if I'd been crying. I told him I had literally been crying for a month and a half. He told me I had cried out all the reserve fluids in my eyes. I had cried out all my natural tears, and it was causing the terrible dryness and redness I was experiencing. He prescribed a drop, which helped immensely, and my eyes were better after I left Florida, because I stopped crying so much.

I hate goodbyes. I am terrible at them. I am a big, weepy crybaby about them. And I thought when I left the States my goodbyes were done. I had no idea, no clue whatsoever, that life on the mission field is a seemingly endless series of goodbyes to people we love. Whether it's visa issues that force people out of the country, stateside assignments for a year, or folks who resign from the Board and go back to "normal" life in the States, we have said goodbye to way more people here than I had planned.

Yesterday, we said goodbye to a family we love. They are headed back to an uncertain future, but they know who is in charge. Their peace in the midst of the storms of life is inspiring. I love them so much, and their kids have played with our kids again and again...in fact, one of their kids came home with us yesterday to play for several hours. But I didn't want to say goodbye to them. I want them to stay. It turns out, however, that I am not in charge of things. I don't even get to understand why they have to leave, why God is choosing this moment to send them back. But it isn't mine to understand. It isn't even theirs to understand. Our only call is to obedience.

When we told people we were headed to the mission field, many thought we were nuts. I mean completely crazy. But the truth is that when we hear the call on our lives--no matter what that call is--it is hard to say no to it. Don't get me wrong--we did say no for years. But the relief, the peace that came with simply saying "yes" no matter what other people thought was worth them thinking we were nuts. Little about giving up everything you've worked for and heading overseas to make little money makes sense in the ordinary, every day world. But we are called--all of us who are believers--to turn our backs on the world, to not be conformed to it. Part of not being conformed to the world for us is wrapped up in finances, security, a future we can predict, and a nice, hefty retirement. But it's also about relationships we must make, and then we must let go. It's so hard. But it's what we are called to for this season of our lives.

One of the birthday letters Marc received was from a fellow missionary here in Russia. In it, he said, "Thank you for choosing the rewards of heaven over the pleasures of today and for choosing to pursue a dream instead of security." At the table yesterday during a farewell brunch, our friend Ed wondered aloud at where and when this group of people would ever be together again. When will we sit across the table again from these people we love? Only God knows. But there is great comfort and yes, security, in knowing that we will. It may not be this side of heaven, but we will. Until then, we just have to pursue God with all our might, love the people we're given for the season we are given them, and count on God to comfort and love us through the goodbyes.

Well, it's time to run get breakfast. We have Hannah's promotion to middle school this afternoon, so I have to go make some egg salad before Irina gets here for Marc's language lesson. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are loving the friends God has given you, and that you are NOT suffering from headcold number 566 this morning. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Happy Birthday, Marc!

Being goofy with Hannah at a county fair in Virginia. I believe these were snow-cone tongues.
With John and Hannah at The Nutcracker in Moscow. Isn't it nice that they all match?
On the train to Kiev with Han and Sarah Beth. I'm not sure what kind of weird face Hannah is making, but it's pretty strange.
He's a handsome devil, isn't he? This was taken on the steps of his parents' house in Maryland.
At a church in Moscow with the team from Mobile. I love this picture...Sarah Beth took it.

If I called you every time I think of you
The phone would be ringing all day.
I keep thinking that these feelings
Will mellow with time,
But not yet, no way.
"Never say it enough" by Wayne Watson

Well, it's Marc's 40th birthday today. And as someone who has been around him for the last 20 years, let me just say that he only gets better with time. I spend 24 hours a day with him right now, with very few exceptions, and I can honestly say that I love him more today than I did yesterday, and I'll love him more tomorrow than today.

I believe God inhabits a human heart.
I believe it more now than ever before.
I see His reflection in you, in you
And I'm sure, I'm sure.
"Never say it enough" by Wayne Watson

The best thing I can say about Marc (and I can say lots and lots of good things) is that he is a reflection to me of who God is. In him I clearly see compassion and mercy and love that can only be explained by God's presence in his life. When I watch him as he struggles to learn Russian, when I watch him compose a video for a volunteer team, when I watch him with our English Club students, I am overwhelmed by the kind of man God is daily making him to be. If you could watch him as he relates to those Russians he regularly comes into contact with, you would know that God is working miracles in his life. I am so proud of the person he is, and even prouder of the person he is becoming.

I just never say it enough.
So before it's too late and time's up:
You're more than all I dreamed you'd be,
an answered prayer...a gift of God above.
I just never say it enough.
"Never say it enough" by Wayne Watson

It's a joke in my family that I never thought I would marry. I said I would marry the first man I met who was smarter than I and who I couldn't manipulate. I did. Never in a million years could I express in mere words what Marc means to me. But here's my best try: he means I'm never really lonely. He means I get to laugh more than most people. He means that I have someone to pray with every morning. He means that I have someone to gently tell me when I am headed down the wrong path with something. He means I have a partner in parenting. He means I get to watch him while he loves his kids more than life. He means I have the chance to see what real, hands-and-feet Christianity looks like lived out in full-color in front of me. He means I have someone with whom to practice my Russian and laugh at my mistakes. He means there is someone else on the planet who gets why I laugh every time Genghis Khan is mentioned. He means God loves me in a really tangible way.

I never say it enough, Marc. You are God's great blessing in my life. I am proud of you. I am proud of what you are doing here. I am proud that you didn't hesitate to leave it all behind and follow. I am proud that we no longer smell like fish from the belly of the whale. I am proud and honored and privileged to be your wife. You are the great love of my life, and I never let my feet hit the ground in the morning without thanking God for loving me enough to give me you. Watching you become the man God always knew you to be has been a joy, and I'm so glad I've had the front row seat for the miracles He has worked in your life, and in our life. You are an amazing man, and more importantly, you're God's man for me. Never, ever forget. Wherever you are, you are the most loved guy in the room.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are so in love with your spouse that it makes you cry, and that you are ready for the birthday party at your house tonight. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Dancing--or as close to it as this Southern Baptist girl gets

These are just some of the great pictures Sarah Beth took while RamCorps was here. These were all taken at Hinkson Christian Academy, a school for MKs here in Moscow.

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness, that my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever. Psalm 30:11-12

I think one of the great gifts of God is a time that is exhausting spiritually. A time where there is absolutely nothing left to you but Him. A face-on-the-floor, outcry to God kind of time. My supposition is that if you have never experienced those kinds of times, you cannot truly appreciate the sweet joy of fellowship with the Father. If you have not gone through a time when you felt like you were totally alone, you cannot know the pure joy of knowing that you simply are never alone. And so, this morning I am thankful for those times of testing, of "wilderness training," because they have led me to this place. And this place, where I am resting in the right hand of God Almighty, is worth whatever troubles I had to go through to get here.

Why write about this today? In my quiet time in Titus this morning (I am studying through all of Paul's letters), I came upon a verse I usually avoid at all costs. Many years ago, someone showed up in our driveway with that verse (and many others) on a card, an explanation as to why it was God's will that Marc and I be cut out of friendships that had grown very important to us. It was the beginning of what would become the hardest two years of our spiritual lives, a time when God would stretch us and test us in ways that we could not, then, even imagine. They were two years of deep, deep spiritual pain. I refer to those as the white-knuckle years, because the only way we held on to our spiritual lives, the only way we held on to our christianity, was by simply grabbing on and refusing to let go. Imagine being involved with a group of people whom you loved and adored, and suddenly being told that you just weren't spiritually good enough to be friends with them anymore. Imagine trying to explain to your children why those people didn't speak to you anymore. There is no way I can convey the hurt and pain that are wrapped up in my memories of those years.

But you know what? It was in those years that we answered God's call on our lives. It was in those years that we learned a whole lot about what mercy and compassion really are. It was in those years that we found out what true friendship looks like. It was in those years that we found out what real loneliness was, and discovered that if we had each other, it was okay to sit home every weekend. It was in those years that God prepared us the most for this time in our lives, because it was in those years that we really discovered--in our hearts as well as our heads--that Christ alone is enough. It was in those years that we learned the truth of the verses in Psalms where David says that even if an army of thousands comes against me, I will not be shaken. It was in those years that the value of God as our hiding place, our refuge, our rock and our Redeemer became not just words on a page, but words indelibly inscribed on the deepest parts of who we are. It was in those years that I became who I am today. And so, I can choose--honestly--to be grateful for lessons learned, for hearts healed, for wisdom gained.

When we were finishing our candidate conference, our group leader spoke to each one of us about what he saw in us as people and as prospective missionaries. When he came to Marc, he smiled and said that Marc had a tenderness, a genuine compassion for people that is unusual in men. He said, "I believe you are a person who mourns with those who mourn, who rejoices with those who rejoice." He ended his remarks by saying that Marc struck him as someone who did not judge others, but had great mercy in his heart for other people, and that this quality would make him so useful on the field. And he was absolutely right about each of those things, and they are qualities that have served him so well on the field. It struck me then, and again this morning as I read that verse I have avoided for so long, that without the experience of being judged, without the experience of being treated with no mercy or compassion, Marc likely would not be as compassionate or merciful or tender or sensitive to the hurts of others. God used that time to create in him a heart He could use. He knew where we were headed, even though--at the time--the mission field was the farthest thing from our minds.

Isn't He good? I love it when I can look back and see such purpose in the trials and tribulations of life. Perhaps this morning, you are going through something hard and awful. Or maybe you are looking at a time when you could have been a little more merciful, a little less judgmental. (Don't we all have those times? I know I do.) In either case, let me encourage you with this thought--God is faithful and active. He is always at work. In the hard times, He is doing something amazing in us. In the times when we don't act like we should, He's doing something then, too. He's always teaching us lessons about how to be more like Him. We just have to choose to pay attention. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you can clearly see the ways God is actively at work even in the most trying circumstances in your life, and that you had a wonderful day yesterday when you ran around in your pajama pants all day. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

I am home

A girl and her daddy. I realize most people's "prom" pictures don't have high-rise apartment buildings in the background, but most people don't live in Europe's largest city, either. I love this picture...not only because my daughter is so beautiful, but also because my husband is so good-looking. Wow!

O taste and see that the LORD is good; how blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him! Psalm 34:8

I have nothing big to report this morning. It is already 10 a.m., and John-John and Marc are still asleep. We are absolutely exhausted from our time with the team from Mobile, but it is a good exhausted. We had a wonderful time with them, especially Sarah Beth, who traipsed all over Moscow, interpreting for them, reading for them, showing them things, and just generally being a big help. Of course, the group isn't much older than she is, so she had lots in common with them. It's always fun to do ministry as a family--much more fun than when I stay home with the kids and Marc goes and does something on his own. Sometimes, that's the way we have to do it, just because of logistics and school, but when we can all be involved, it's even better. I'd say it's one of the great joys of the mission field--ministering as a family--but it's also what we enjoyed most about Passion Play at home in the States. It was something we were all involved in, something we could do together for God. Nothing is better than that. If you haven't found some kind of ministry your whole family can be involved in, I really encourage you to look for something to do together. It builds your family like nothing else.

A good part of our week was swept up in dealing with the flood. Our neighbors have pretty much calmed down, and we think everything is basically dry now. One of the hazards of a high-rise apartment building is that when something happens in one place, it happens below that place, too. It's just one more thing to get used to, but I think we pretty much have. The other night, when the European Football Championships were in Moscow, I didn't watch the match between Manchester and Chelsea, but I could follow right along with the thousands in my building who were watching, because they yelled so loudly at every goal, foul, whatever. It's part of living in an apartment.

We did get to see a friend of ours from training, someone who lives in another part of the world but was in Moscow for a few days. Such fun! There is something about those folks you went through FPO with, something special, a bond that doesn't break. We caught up on news, on what she is doing where she is, on the dangers and joys of her job, what she is thinking of doing next. She's an extraordinary young woman, someone we love very, very much, and it was a great blessing to be able to hug her, talk to her, and see her beautiful smile. God is so good.

I am scared to say this out loud (or write it out loud?), but it's been a while since anybody in this house has asked when we could go back to the States. It's been quite a while since I even thought about it. We have been here nearly 8 months, we have settled in, we have made some friends, we have made a niche for ourselves...it's hard to think about being anywhere else. Of course, there are still trials and tribulations, but so much of my life here seems normal to me--things that seemed anything but normal 8 months ago. Riding the metro, walking everywhere, carrying my groceries, understanding only about 50% of what is said to me...none of these things seem odd any more. Now, they are just an accepted part of my life. One of the things that is such a blessing about volunteer teams is that we get the chance to see the world we live in through their eyes, and it helps us gauge how far we've come in a specific amount of time. For example, we had the team from Texas here in February, so that was only three months ago. In those three months, we have all made giant strides in speaking Russian. I watched Sarah Beth at one of the venues speak very confidently to an older woman. I watched her help order at the various restaurants the kids went to along the way. I realized after talking with an older gentleman about who the group was that I had not only understood all of his questions about them, I had also been able to respond to each question appropriately. When did that happen? Even with the angry neighbors and the flood, I knew mostly what they were saying and how to respond. And Marc? Don't get me started about how great he is at the language. Marc was the one most concerned that he just wouldn't be able to learn Russian. He believes himself to be a substandard student (not true at all, by the way), and he was so worried he wouldn't be able to do this. But he speaks better and understands better than anyone else, and he can hold his own with any Russian who comes his way.

An interesting side note about Marc, and I guess about me, too. Something weird has definitely happened to us, and we really only noticed it this week. Marc came to me at some point, sort of stunned-looking, and he said, "Kell, I have turned some sort of corner here. One of the kids just asked me what I did here in Russia, and I told him I was a church planter. I didn't say I was the media guy, but I instantly responded that I was a church planter. Isn't that weird?" The going wisdom in our company is that everyone in Russia, no matter their official title, is a church planter. That may be the idea, but I don't know how much Marc and I have bought into that until now. Always before, Marc would carefully explain that his job was to support the missionaries, to be Luke to their Paul, but never really seeing himself as Paul. Since we have been involved with English Club and different ministry things going on here, our feelings about that have changed. Suddenly, we see ourselves as church planters. We feel like church planters. We are church planters. And while that may not mean a lot to you, to us it means that we are settling into who we are now, seeing ourselves as missionaries, embracing who God has called us to be here. We are home, not just someplace we're scheduled to be for a few years. Does that make sense?

Well, I should go. Sarah Beth is heading to school and would like to check her email, John is finally up, and at some point, I should get Marc up and moving. We have a choir concert to attend this afternoon at Hinkson, so we should probably bathe at some point. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are settling in to who God called you to be, and that you are ready for your husband's fortieth birthday party on Monday! Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

It was a wet, wet night in Moscow

Pictures are from our time with RamCorps, a group of musicians from University of Mobile in Mobile, Alabama. We have had a wonderful time with them while they have served here in Moscow. The pics, by the way, are all by Sarah Beth, our budding photographer.

When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul. Psalm 94:19

It was the one thing I was determined to do while RamCorps was here. I was absolutely going to the American Center in the center of the city, I was getting a library card, and I was going to check out a book or maybe a movie from their huge collection. It was my reason for having Sarah Beth babysit John and Hannah after the RamCorps concert at Hinkson yesterday. It was the reason that I hiked from the metro gladly when we realized we'd gotten off on the wrong side of the train, making our trip even longer than it had to be. Nope. No complaining from me, because I was getting my library card. Or so I thought.

As I was putting my information in the computer to get my card (no small feat, since it was all in Russian, including the keyboard), we received a call from Sarah Beth. Now let me say this--Sarah Beth is very level-headed, so when she is upset about something, we are upset, too. She is not a drama queen, so when there is drama, it's usually real. And there was definitely drama on the other end of the line. Between sobs, I gathered that we had a water leak. No big deal, right? Water leaks from pipes all the time, even in America. I passed the phone to Marc so he could tell her where the shut-off valve was. The look of utter alarm that crossed his face was enough to tell me that we were leaving, and we were leaving quickly. We didn't have a leak, it turned out. We had a pipe completely break. And not any pipe--the hot water pipe. Sarah Beth was standing in 3-4 inches of steaming water trying, in vain, to get to the valve that shut the water off. Suddenly, Marc was saying in Russian, "Ma'am...ma'am...ma'am...", because the neighbor was there and was yelling into the phone. It turns out the flood in our apartment was also the flood in her apartment below us. Thankfully, our neighbor next door, Maxim, came over to help Sarah Beth when he realized what was happening and that she didn't understand what the lady from downstairs was yelling at her. Our friend Kris came over, found the shut off valve, and proceeded to calm everyone down. Soon, Marc and I arrived, Kris went to get his wet vac, and we began cleaning up the mess in our apartment. Inches of water everywhere have definitely left some damage, though Sarah Beth had the presence of mind to lay down towels in front of our room (where the equipment is) and the living room (where our guests are sleeping), so the damage to our stuff was minimal. The beautiful hardwood floors our landlady is so proud of are starting to buckle at the seams this morning from all the water underneath them. We are sad about this, but these sorts of problems are evidently not uncommon in Moscow. The handyman is coming today to fix the hot water (we don't have any right now), and life will go on. The damage downstairs is likely worse than the damage here, because we had several floors of neighbors who showed up last night to question us about what had happened. Good times all around.

What have we learned from this? Sometimes stuff happens. We didn't do anything wrong...the pipe just burst out of nowhere. It could not have been prevented (maybe better pipes?). I'm glad we have enough of the language to be able to converse with the neighbors and explain what happened. And culturally, how this would be handled in America and how it is handled here are different. Russians can sound unfriendly even when they are not. We must remember that we aren't in Middleburg anymore, and when things like this happen, Russians are going to show up at the door with questions. The key, I would think, is how we react to and handle those questions. Marc did an excellent job last night of calmly explaining what had happened, giving our landlord's name and number out, being kind and compassionate about the damage they had suffered, but firmly refusing their requests to see the pipe (it was 11:15 p.m., and we weren't letting anybody else in the house).

The other thing we've learned is that when we are actively doing what God has called us to do, discouraging distractions will abound. Could be the enemy, could be the Holy Spirit testing our commitment--I don't know. I know that whatever the reason or the source, it is very easy to be discouraged about these sorts of things. But we have decided that you can laugh or you can cry when stuff like this happens, and we're going to pick the laughing as often as we possibly can. And so we have. We cleaned up, got some chips and salsa out, and watched the season finale of The Office last night. I'm pretty sure we went to bed in a better frame of mind than if we'd cried our way through the evening.

So life goes on. It's time to get John up for school (Han's already there on a field trip today), and Sarah Beth is headed out to some sightseeing/prayerwalking with the team from Alabama. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you can laugh at the difficult circumstances in your life, and that you do not have a large rug hanging out your kitchen window to dry. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Life is moving a little too fast for me

First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for you all, because your faith is being proclaimed throughout the whole world. Romans 1:8

I love this verse. Often, when I am just sitting and being thankful, I think of our beloved "mission friends," people we adore who have chosen to leave comfort and ease and home and travel to wherever it is God has for them. They are proclaiming our faith throughout the whole world. Some of them are in very dangerous places; others, like us, are in safer environs, but wherever we are, I know that we are loving each other and praying for one another. There is great comfort and ease in that.

I am home this morning instead of at church. At about 3:45 this morning, Sarah Beth came and got me because Hannah was violently ill. So I spent the rest of my morning taking care of her and the huge mess that surrounded her. I am keeping her home this morning, hoping that we can go tonight to the concert at a park on the other side of Moscow. I think she just had too much garlic sauce with her pizza last night (Papa John's was dinner), but I want to know that for sure before I subject her to the metro. Nobody wants a sick kid on the metro, trust me.

Last night was Sarah Beth's first formal. I'll have more pictures tomorrow--the camera is on its way to the church where the volunteer group is playing this morning. She got ready at Jeff and Karla's house (all the IMB girls did), and then we met them there to take pictures. I looked at all of them--so beautiful, inside and out--and I was struck by how fast all of this is going. Too fast. Wasn't she 4 yesterday? Now she's going to formals and looking beautiful and grown up. She was just elected Vice-President of her junior class for next year. Wasn't it yesterday she was in kindergarten?

Yet, as much as I'd like to really slow things down, I am so grateful for what God has done and is doing in Sarah Beth's life. I am certainly not implying that she is some perfect wunderkind, because she isn't. But she is a tremendously good human being. When we started the process to be sent by the IMB to Russia, Sarah Beth was none too happy with us. Over time, little by little, God has just worked a miracle in her heart. She has had as easy a transition as I can imagine. She has embraced the new and the different and enjoyed it for what it is. She has managed to spend very few days focused on what she has given up. And I'm pretty sure she would tell you that she has gained more than she has given up to come here. I am especially proud that she is a hands and feet kind of Christian. There is absolutely no hypocrite in Sarah Beth. I know so many teenagers who act one way at school and another at church. I've had kids who were so worldly that I was shocked to find out they were regular church attenders. Sarah Beth is a doer. She is very involved with our English Club, making relationships with the students. She is a great photographer, and she is helping her dad by taking pictures of the group from Alabama. She clearly sees, more than most kids her age, that God can use any skill for His glory. If He gifted you for it, Sarah Beth knows that He can use it for His purposes. I didn't know that at 16, did you? You can see why I'm so thrilled and thankful for the person she is daily becoming.

But it's hard, isn't it? Every day she grows a little more toward being out of my home. They are ours for such a short time. And to think of going on stateside, putting her in college, and then coming back here without her--more than I can handle. But the time is coming. Too soon, the time is coming. So I'm going to treasure every second of her presence in my home. I am going to laugh at her jokes, enjoy her view of the world, listen to her music, and watch while God turns her into the person He has all along known her to be. Most of all, I'm going to be grateful. Really, really grateful. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are thankful for the way God is at work in the lives of your children, and that noone called your house at 3:30 this morning. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Who are you believing?

When did she stop being a little girl? My beautiful Sarah Beth, in her first formal gown, practicing hair styles for this weekend. Watching them grow up is a little bittersweet, isn't it?

I will bless the LORD who has counseled me, indeed my mind instructs me in the night. I have set the LORD continually before me; because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Psalm 16:7-8

As I have been going through different materials we received at FPO, I have had the chance to look at things told to us during training with the eyes of someone on the field. I am currently reading through the spiritual warfare training that Dr. Rankin did for us early in FPO, and I am finding it to be even more pertinent now that we are here on the field. I am an annotator by nature--I suppose it comes from being a literature teacher--and I have a million notes written on the handout he gave us. Two strike me as particularly appropriate this morning. The first says that Satan has no power to do anything except speak into our minds and lie to us. The second, under the subheading "He is a defeated foe," says he cannot win--all references to spiritual warfare are always in the context of victory. It's one thing to write that in a note taken from a well-respected and well-loved leader. It is quite another to live it out in my daily life.

When I worry, I worry about two things, and only two things: my kids and money. I'm pretty sure if I took a survey, many of you who read this would also worry about those two things, so I think what I'm learning probably applies to most of us. Currently, when I worry about my kids and money, I worry about tuition for next year. How are we going to pay it? How are we going to find the money for school, which we firmly believe our kids must attend? How, how, how? So last night, while Marc was away with the group here from the University of Mobile, I had a little nutty. Not a full-scale, all-out kind of nutty, but a pretty good one. When I shared with Marc my almost-more-than-I-could-handle fears about incurring debt, not finding the money, being put in a terrible position where our kids would have to be pulled out of school...you get the idea...he made the remark that I was choosing to believe in the wrong team. What better time, he asked me, for Satan to discourage us than when a visiting team might really encourage us in our ministry here? Did I think the timing was coincidence? Well, no, but...stink! Once again, Marc is the voice of reasoned faith to my voice of panic and terror. He reminded me, once again, that we serve a tremendous, faithful God, who would take care of what needed taking care of. He reminded me that God loves our kids more than we do, even. Did I think God brought us to Russia to desert us? No. I know He didn't.

Then I woke up this morning to read the notes from FPO. Satan's only capability is to lie to us. And, I'm ashamed to say, there are many days when those lies look really reasonable. But they aren't reasonable at all. The question, I would guess for each of us, ends up being who we believe. Do we believe Satan, who has no power and does not win? Or do we believe the Almighty God of the Universe, who created everything and controls everything with His mighty right hand? I have to admit to you, just writing it out like that makes my too-often choice to listen to the wrong voice look pretty childish and silly. He has proven Himself faithful again and again and again. Why would I believe anyone else?

So today, I'm going to choose to listen to the right Voice. I'm going to be encouraged by the ministry of the visiting team. I'm going to take my kids to the park for the concert tonight and enjoy some good ol' American music. I might even spontaneously break out into a dance of some kind. Okay, maybe I won't do that. I am Southern Baptist, after all. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that the only voice you listen to today is the one calling you closer to Jesus, and that your Slingbox is back up and working. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Guarding against the sinking sand

Nochka loves the top of the schkaff between Sarah Beth's bed and Hannah's. She perches there and watches the kids sleep at night.
Sarah Beth likes to taunt Nochka from her (much shorter) place on the ground. The Beatles poster was a gift from one of our English Club students.

But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love. I Corinthians 13 The Message

Mommy, does real quick sand pull you down that fast? John-John, while we watched The Princess Bride

It has already been quite a week here in the Hooks house, and it's only Wednesday! This morning Marc is getting ready to meet Jeff and Tim at our metro stop so they can go to the airport and pick up the team that is coming in from the University of Mobile. We are very excited about the things God is going to do through the team, and we're eyeing the schedule with some trepidation--it's going to be one busy week. Amidst all of the other stuff we must do, about thirty people will be here tomorrow for orientation and lunch, and we have senior banquet this weekend, which is taking a lot of our focus. Sarah Beth has a birthday party this afternoon, and we are also trying to finish up school for everybody. Yikes! Lots and lots and lots going on here.

It seems like I am always writing about something John-John has said, but he's really a pretty insightful little guy, if sometimes his insight is, well...unintentional at best. Last night we watched The Princess Bride as a family (before I went to bed at 9:00!), and he was enthralled by it. He has such a tender heart, though--and he doesn't always get jokes and sarcasm because of it. For example, we were all laughing at the scene where Wesley says to the unconscious giant, "Sleep well, and dream of large women." John-John turned to me and said, "It isn't funny when someone is hurt, is it, Mommy?" Hmmm....well, no, it isn't, but this is a movie, and we're laughing because...oh, forget it. Just watch the movie. But it was fun, and it's nice to be able to watch a movie that we can all enjoy, without language and innuendo that's hard to explain. John's question about the quick sand, though, made me think of one of my favorite songs. "In Christ Alone," a song on Travis Cottrell's Alive, Forever album, is the song I put on when I just want to stand at my kitchen window and lift my hands in praise. In the middle, he uses this familiar refrain:

On Christ, the solid rock, I stand
All other ground is sinking sand.
All other ground is sinking sand.

John's question made me think about everything but Jesus being sinking sand. And yes, I'm pretty sure the sinking sand pulls you down before you even know it's happening. It's all too easy for that to happen. Quiet time becomes something that you just can't find time for, you convince yourself that music is just music and tv is just entertainment, so it doesn't really matter what you watch or listen to...and before you know it, your life doesn't look any different from the lives of those around you who are unbelievers. One of the things I want most of all is to be different...so that those I come into contact with know and want whatever it is that makes me different. Marc and I have talked about the lies that Satan tell us that are so easy to believe--we will never learn the language, the kids will never make the transition, we will never have close friends here--but God tells us that is not the truth. He says He is with us no matter what. He says that we are not alone, and that if we ask, He will give us the world as an inheritance. He says that Christ is the solid rock, and the rest--the trivia, the minutiae of daily life, the way we feel--is sinking sand.

Well, it's time to get going and get some stuff done. We all got up early this morning--excited about all the stuff going on this week. It's fun to have teams in, though it is exhausting. Pray for us this week, that things will go smoothly and we won't get in the way of whatever it is God has in store for us. Also, please pray for a man named Kenny Pope. Along with his wife, Teri, Kenny leads our CEE teenagers in Bible study and worship at every MKR (Missionary Kid Retreat), and they are so important and special to us. Kenny had a serious spinal cord injury in a two-story fall this past weekend. Miraculously, after surgery yesterday, he is having some feeling in his feet and sitting up. I know that every MK in our region is praying like crazy for Kenny and Teri. Will you join them (and us)? Wherever you are in the world, I hope you're avoiding the sinking sand that can pull you under quickly, and that your fingers are not every color of the rainbow from the food color you put in the playdoh you made yesterday. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Today is Mother's Day, and I miss my Momma

My immediate family--Momma, Kay, Kellye, Cathy, Daddy--I am head over heels in love with these folks.
Me and my girls, Sarah Beth (16) and Hannah (11). We are the "blondinka" part of the family.
Me and my boys, John-John (7) and Marc (39 for a couple of weeks). These two make life a little like traveling in a world of stand-up comedy...I am never, ever bored.

To the ends of the earth I will follow.
There's nothing that I will not do.
You alone are my reason for living.
Jesus, my passion is You.
"My Passion" by Travis Cottrell

Well, here in Russia it is not Mother's Day, so we decided to forgo the holiday and have everyone get sick. Sound fun? So Marc went on to church, and the kids and I stayed home. John and Hannah are especially not feeling well, which is a bit disastrous, since we have a team of 17 people coming in this week. I'm not positive, but this round of illnesses may have something to do with the fact that our temps are again dipping into the low twenties at night, and the Russian government turns off the heat on May 1st. Hmmm...there just might be a connection. And, because the light came pouring in early this morning, I have been up, quiet timed, made a coffee cake for the fam, worked on my AP syllabus, done a 2-mile workout, and showered. Now Sarah Beth and I are working on hairdos for senior banquet this weekend, which is kind of like prom, so the hair must be just right. We aren't really ignoring Mother's Day--Marc is making my favorite dinner tonight (Kung Pao vegetables and fried rice--in case you're wondering or interested) for our weekly visit to church in OKC (thank You, Lord, for the internet). So that's how things are going here.

Of course, I miss my Momma today. Who wouldn't? I've come to the conclusion that it's okay to miss her, that this is simply the product of having a Momma I really like and love, and this is one of God's blessings. I'm not homesick, I am not jealous that the rest of the world is going to take their mothers to lunch after church--I just plain ol' miss her. Here's the thing about my Momma: she's a hoot. She is not boring. She is not dull. She is funny. She makes me giggle. Sometimes, things come popping out of her mouth that catch me so by surprise that I double over in laughter. Who wouldn't miss that kind of Momma?

And she isn't just funny. She is my biggest fan. No questions asked. Name something my Momma does NOT think I can do. I dare you. Brain surgery? No doubt, if that was the direction my life had taken, I would have been the best brain surgeon ever--at least according to my Momma. And don't get her started on me as a teacher, because you will not walk away from that conversation for a while. When I wanted to try out for a part in the musical at my high school, I was so nervous. My Momma said, "Just go in there and remember that you're better than everybody else." (She swears up and down this did not happen, but it did. Trust me. I was there.) Never once in my life have I said I wanted to do something that my Momma did not think I would be the absolute best at whatever that was. Never. I'm serious.

Funny, supportive--great qualities, to be sure. But above all, my Momma is a person of tremendous, overwhelming, do-not-get-in-God's-way faith. Here is my all-time best Momma story. When I told my Momma and Daddy that I was turning my back on my career, pulling up stakes, and moving their grandchildren to Moscow, Russia, because God told me to, I was just a little nervous. In fact, I threw up on the way to their house (gross, I know, but true). You see, my Momma was in the middle of chemotherapy. I was going to dare go sit down and tell her bald self that in the midst of all that was going on in her life, I was going to take her grandchildren away. Would you have been looking forward to that conversation? I was not. You know what my folks did? Nodded their heads, cried tears of joy ( I am not even kidding you on that), and talked about the ways in which they were honored by our call. My Momma did not throw a pity-party, did not question, even once, our call...just said that she was so proud of us, so thrilled with how God was at work.

You hear stories in missionary circles of people whose parents raised them in church, took them to missions night once a year, enrolled them in GA's or Mission Friends, and then balked when it was their kid who God called to Africa instead of someone else's. It is one thing to say you support missions. It is quite another to stand at the airport while your child walks away to some far-off land because God told them to go. It takes a commitment--to missions, certainly, but also to God--that is unflinching. It is hard, hands-and-feet Christianity...it isn't for the faint of heart or the Easter and Christmas churchgoer. I have said it before, and I'll say it again--I am the person my parents raised me to be. Do they miss me? Yep. No doubt about it. Would they want me to come home? Not if it meant turning my back on God's hand on my life. Never. So today is a day that I miss my Momma (and Daddy, too), but more than I miss her, I am thankful for having been raised to listen to the voice of God--and then to follow faithfully.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are hugging your mother tightly, or remembering her with love and thankfulness, and that the government has not turned off your heat so that your kids are snotty and gross. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Moscow: city--hero

...and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:17b-19

Today is Victory Day in Russia, a celebration of the victory over Hitler and the Nazis (they say 'Gitler' here, and it never ceases to crack me up--I'm seriously like a two-year-old about the 'h' words that have g instead). Russians have every right to be proud of their history of standing up to Hitler in the Second World War. Read the history--the reason Moscow was saved from annihilation was that her citizens simply dug in and absolutely refused to be taken. We have heard stories of Stalin holding meetings in the metro to rally the troops. Citizens who fought to hold back the Nazis here are called partisans, and they were less military operatives than they were ordinary men, women, and children who simply loved their land so much they couldn't bear to see it taken. There is a fierce pride in being Russian. It is one of the many things I love about the Russian people collectively. Think of how much you love being American. Russians love being Russian.

I think it's easy to get caught up in the Cold War history of hostility between America and Russia. However, I will tell you that Russians are very interested in America, and I have never sensed hostility toward us because we're American. (Trust me--everybody in our building knows we are the Americans in apartment 54--especially since the children were playing with chalk and drew a welcome mat outside our building, complete with the word welcome spelled out in English.) Marc was with a trustee and his son in Red Square this week, where they met a retired Soviet General from WWII. He told the trustee's son to tell people in his school about Red Square, and to remind them that "Soviet soldiers and American soldiers fought shoulder to shoulder to save the world." Living in America, I'm not sure how much of a sense of that we have, but living in Europe, I see constant reminders--statues, memorials--of the immense price Europeans, and especially Russians, paid. Russia lost more of her citizens than any other country in the war. I'm certainly not downplaying America's role in the war, but I think we forget sometimes that other countries paid a high price to save the world, too.

This should be an interesting day. We are watching the parade on tv (you have to have tickets to even get off the metro stops at Red Square today) and having brunch as part of our lesson today. It should be fun. I am headed off to the store to buy the stuff for brunch, which should be a nice bit of exercise in the brisk morning air. Tonight, we have team meeting in preparation for the group of musicians coming from University of Mobile next week. Somewhere in all of this I have to deep clean my home...not sure when that's going to get done. Oh, well. By the way--the title of this blog is from my favorite billboard celebrating Victory Day. It has a picture of WWII soldiers, and an outline of part of the city, and it simply says "Moscow: city--hero." I couldn't have said it better myself. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are filled up with the fullness of God, and that you take some time today to thank God for the men and women who joined together in spite of ideological differences to save the world. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

I am definitely self-centered

Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. Delight yourself in the LORD; and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD, trust also in Him, and He will do it. He will bring forth your righteousness as the light and your judgment as the noonday. Psalm 37:3-6

I am well into my second cup of coffee this morning, so no guarantees as to how this blog will come off--may be one of my best, may be that I sound like one of the chipmunks. Don't know. No promises.

I've told you before that I have a notebook divided into different sections and that part of my quiet time is recording different scripture under those sections. At first when I read the above today, I wanted to place them under God's promises, but after looking carefully at the grammar (I know, I'm a dork), I placed the passage under God's Commands. These are sentences with an understood you as a subject--the hallmark of commands in the English language. Look at the commands here: Trust, do good, delight yourself, commit your way, trust in Him. These aren't suggestions--hey, if you want to, it might be a good idea to just let God do His thing. Nope. These are commands from almighty God. I'm pretty sure He wants us to take those seriously.

When I read these words, I sort of passed over them the first time. Then I looked at something we received at FPO--it's called a heartsearcher, with passages of scripture and questions for each month. This month, the first question is, "Are you self-centered? or Christ-centered?" Hmmm....I'm certainly Christ-centered, right? I've got the whole missionary thing going here, right? Left home and parents and career to come serve Jesus...surely that makes me Christ-centered. But when I really look at the above scripture, at the way God commands me to trust and delight myself in Him, to really focus on who He is and not on who I am...Stink! I'm not Christ-centered. I'm a big, giant, self-centered waa-waa! I'm worried about the elevator being out (eight flights of stairs, my friends...eight flights of stairs) and getting math in before school starts in the fall and how we're going to pay tuition in the fall. Does any of that sound Christ-centered? Nope. It doesn't. Sigh.

Here's what I have to say to you this morning. God is God. I am absolutely not. He was God before the mountains were here, before the world was born, from everlasting to everlasting. I am just a woman trying to be what He created me to be. If at any point in the writing of this blog (not this one, but all of them...you know what I mean) you have come away with the thought that this is all about me or Marc or the kids...I apologize. I want to tell you the ins and outs of our daily lives here in Russia, I want you to pray for us and for our mission, I want you to laugh at our foibles and mistakes. But most of all, I want to call you to trust and believe in a God so big, so trustworthy, that our minds can't comprehend Him. I want to glorify Him. I want to say with Paul that Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the worst, but He chose me for this because I am so weak, so miniscule, such a broken jar of clay that He would be even more glorified through me than through someone "good." I want you to care about me, for sure, but I pray on a daily basis that through this entire experience what you will see is way more than me. I pray that You will see Him, shining in all of His glory.

On a separate note, I would ask this morning that you would pray for our region. Central and Eastern Europe is the biggest region in the IMB, and a difficult one to work in, mostly because 75 years of communism made for a hard shell for the gospel to penetrate. This is a time of change and transition in our region, with lots of going in and going out and moving around and just being in flux. Would you pray for us, for our missionaries here, for the leadership who must negotiate all this change? Above all, would you pray that the Lord of the harvest calls out workers to come here? Thanks. Really.

Well, it's time to get ready for my Wednesday-morning time of humiliation and failure, or my language lesson, whichever you prefer to call it. I'm just joking, of course. It's a hard language, to be sure, but I think we're making headway. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are having a Christ-centered day, and that you will not spend your morning saying the lamp sits on the table, the couch sits on the floor, the rug lies on the floor, the artwork hangs on the wall....Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Caught in the middle

There was a rather long discussion as to which Beatle this is. I think the consensus was John Lennon. It's now hanging in Sarah Beth's room--a gift from Dasha to S.B.
Kasinya and Dasha with "King" Marc--he won the title by having the most points at the end of the party.
Marc's good friend, Sasha. Sasha is a lawyer here in Moscow, and he and Marc have become quite close.

Fearless warriors in a picket fence
Reckless abandon wrapped in common sense
Deep water faith in the shallow end
And we are caught in the middle.
With eyes wide open to the differences,
The God we want and the God who is
But will we trade our dreams for His
Or are we caught in the middle?
"Somewhere in the Middle"--Casting Crowns

I made a huge mistake yesterday morning. My mom had written an email containing some interesting news about a case I had been following back home, and so I went to the news archives of the local newspaper. I did read the article about the case, but then I went to the archives to read articles about various things going on at home. BIG MISTAKE!! You know what I found? Tons of people moving around in jobs within the school system that could have been me. I saw other people taking jobs that I would really have enjoyed. People moving positions from one school to another, opening new schools, pursuing dreams that were mine. After an hour, I turned off the computer and settled into some time with God, but not without renewing the lingering questions that have plagued me since we started this process. Why did I go to the trouble and expense of getting a master's degree in educational leadership if I was going to be a housewife in Moscow, Russia? Where is the common sense? What in the world am I doing here?

And then I went to church, where we sang not one, not two, but three hymns I know. (Even singing them in Russian is so exciting and fun for me.) And we were invited to a picnic next week by a friend at church. And then Marc and I went to a birthday party at the dorm of some of our students, where we spent three hours just making closer connections. On the way home, over a romantic date-night dinner of McDonald's "gamburgers" (don't ask me why, but it's also Gitler and Garry Potter in Russian), Marc reminded me that just when we feel like we can't be here, God gives us something tangible to hang on to, to do, to make us feel like there is no where else we could possibly be. When we were handed juice for the toast at the birthday party instead of champagne, when we were shown where the head of the Russian Orthodox church lives, when church traditions were discussed in casual conversation, I knew that we had already started to make connections that will allow us to present the gospel to these people we love so much. Even more, it made me realize that we had done a pretty good job already of making our beliefs known. They knew that our church was meeting on Saturday instead of Sunday, because every week we mention our church and how important it is to us. We have mentioned that we don't drink alcohol in casual conversations, and the champagne was no big deal--something we had dreaded dealing with (how do you remain true to your own convictions and beliefs without hurting people you love in a culture that is, quite literally, soaked in alcohol?). So there were tangible things we could hold onto yesterday to know that our lives here do matter. I may not be the head of a school. I may have opinions about education that no one really cares about here. But I do have something to offer, and God is taking my measly offering and turning it into something beautiful and good that glorifies Him.

A long, long time ago, Marc and I were in the New Members class at our church, and a guy in the class said something I'll never forget. He was a new believer, not just new to the church, and he had been sharing his beliefs. One of his friends asked him if he was going to become a fanatic, a Jesus freak. His reply has stuck with me all these years. He said, "Oh, Lord...I hope so." Make no mistake--it's hard to trade our dreams for His. Sometimes His dreams for us seem completely out of the realm marked by common sense and the American dream. But looking into the faces every Thursday of those He has entrusted to us, I am honored by the way He is at work here. And I'm all too aware that He is at work only because we said, "Yes" to whatever He had for us. It was our choice. On the darkest days here, I am brought back to reality by acknowledging that this was all about our choice to follow. Does that make us fanatics? I'm praying that it does.

We are enjoying a rare Sunday with nothing to do. Our church met yesterday due to the holidays (we meet in a dentist's office, and he had to work today), and we have no other commitments. What a blessings. We slept in, had a big breakfast, and we're about to go outside and enjoy the weather. It's a good idea to do so today--we're expecting snow on Tuesday and Wednesday. Snow!!! Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are not in the shallow end of faith, and that there is no snow in your forecast. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Learning lessons from John-John

O Timothy, guard what has been entrusted to you, avoiding worldly chatter and the opposing arguments of what is falsely called "knowledge"--which some have professed and thus gone astray from the faith. I Timothy 6:20-21

I have a large notebook I use during my quiet time. It is divided into sections: Praise and Thanksgiving, Confession, Intercession, God's Promises, and God's Commands. As I read God's Word every morning, I record various scriptures in the appropriate sections, and I use these as I pray. It's a combination of a technique I learned from a Beth Moore study and a technique I learned from Elbert Smith while we were at FPO. Because I am a person who puts a lot of emphasis on being faithful and disciplined in my quiet time, I can get so caught up in the routine that I find myself in a dry and weary land where there is no water. By praying the scriptures and making that the main focus of my time with God, I find that each morning is new and fresh, and I feel as though I've been with God and not just performed a routine.

I recorded the above scripture this morning. I am studying I Timothy right now, and I have read this command to Timothy about a dozen times so far in this study. But this morning, it was a personal charge to me as I prayed through some things with which I am struggling. It is hard to be here. We have talked to our closest friends on the field this week, and I can assure you that it's hard to be anywhere on the mission field. Nowhere is easy. The folks who went to London, where they aren't learning a new language? They're working with people groups that don't necessarily speak one language, but forty. Nowhere is there a mission field that's a breeze. I don't believe Russia is harder than anywhere else. But it's hard. I am so lonely here. And it isn't that people aren't nice, because they are. But we haven't made really close friends. I have completely lost my identity here. I have said a thousand times that I used to be a person who people respected, whose opinion mattered. Now I'm just another missionary wife. I have especially struggled with teaching next year. Some of you know that I have accepted a position teaching two classes a day at Hinkson Christian Academy in order to help pay for the kids to go there full-time. Because we are here under the International Service Corps program, our children's education is not fully paid for. We receive a stipend for each child. With the stipend and with me teaching two classes a day, we will still owe almost $5,000, which we are stepping out on faith that God will provide, because we certainly can't afford it on what we're making. I have struggled and struggled and struggled with this. I didn't come here to teach. If I was going to do that, I would have stayed in Florida where I made great money doing it. But the kids are terribly lonely. They desperately want to go to school at Hinkson and make friends. It isn't like homeschooling in America, where your kids are in a thousand activities and have a great church to go to. Without Hinkson, my kids would see no one except us during the course of a week. And while we love and adore our church, my kids don't speak enough Russian to really interact with the other kids much. Homeschooling is not something I feel called to, but something I did out of necessity, and while I wouldn't say it's been a disaster, it has made the transition to Moscow that much more difficult. So I agreed to teach these classes as a way to help my kids find a life here. But I have struggled.

So why tell you this? Is it just to complain to you about how hard my life is? Nah...give me a call and I'll just tell you that. :o) Here is what I've come to understand--God is calling me to faithfulness in this situation just like He called me to faithfulness to His call to be here. He is not calling me to necessarily understand why. He is not calling me to place my faith in what I can understand analytically. He is calling me to trust Him, not only with my precious children, but also with the abilities with which He has gifted me. When I met with the director at Hinkson the first time, he said, "We have prayed and prayed and prayed for someone who could start an AP Lit class, but there aren't many AP teachers running around Moscow. But look. Here you are!" I taught AP English for 17 years. It is fun and enjoyable to me, and the kids are always challenging and fun. I have thoroughly enjoyed the kids I've been teaching the last few months here. In many ways, they have helped me regain my identity as someone who has something to offer (besides being able to cook and clean). And if you could listen to my children talk excitedly about next year, about mission trips and retreats and field trips and friends...you'd know that God has provided a way for me to use my abilities to help provide those things for them. Hinkson is a God-send for them, a way for them to have some of the things they are missing the most from the States.

What does this have to do with John-John? Yesterday we were walking home from school, and he was saying that he really missed one of the boys who has had to leave Russia because of visa issues. He asked when he would be back, and I said, "I don't know, John-John. They're deciding what to do next." His reply? "No, Mom. They're not deciding. God is, right? God already knows what they need to do next. They're just listening. Right?" I was stopped in my tracks, literally, by my 7-year-old. "Of course, John-John. You're right. God knows. They're just listening." I thought about that this morning as I read Paul's charge to Timothy. I don't have to know. I don't have to decide. I don't have to rely on my own knowledge in order to do anything. I just have to listen and guard that which has been entrusted to me.

It's time for me to run and make breakfast before my language lesson. We had a great English Club last night, and we even received a gift from one of the girls' grandmothers for Easter, a delicious berry jam which is made from berries from that particular region of Russia. We also received an invitation to a birthday party on Saturday night, which we are very excited about attending. God is at work in ways I can't even comprehend. He is so good. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are guarding that which He has entrusted to you, and that your children are teaching you lessons, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Here's just a bonus funny: yesterday, Sarah Beth was doing her math, solving for x, and she said with a completely serious face, "Momma, what do Russians solve for? They don't have an x. Do they solve for ж (zh)?" I thought we would pass out from laughing. What a hoot my kid is!