Being God's poem

For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. Ephesians 2:10

I am His poetry. --written in the front of Sarah Beth's Bible

We have arrived safely in Kiev, and Marc has safely gone on to Odessa. We are praying that he will receive same-day service and join us here in Kiev tomorrow. That would be wonderful. If not, he will spend the weekend in Odessa without us and return on Monday. After arriving, he texted me to say that we had made the absolute best decision to leave the family in Kiev--John-John could not have done the six hours to Odessa on top of the all night train ride. The apartment we are staying in is pretty nice, with plenty of room (by Eastern European standards--definitely different from American standards) for the four of us. We spent yesterday just hanging out, watching slingbox and relaxing. Oh, and sleeping. A lot of sleeping. Even John-John passed out on the couch.

Sarah Beth said I could just use her Bible on the trip so I didn't have to bring mine, so during my quiet time this morning, I had the unique opportunity to get a little glimpse into the soul of my 16-year-old. She had already told me about the message on Ephesians 2:10, that what our Bibles translate as 'handiwork' is in the original the word for poetry. So we are God's poetry, created to do good works in Him. That really appealed to her. So I wasn't totally taken aback when I saw what she had written in the front of her Bible, because I knew it meant a lot to her or she wouldn't have mentioned it to me. But when I read it...I thought about all the ways I see her being God's poem. Now, you're going to have to excuse me, but I'm an English teacher, and the idea here is pretty awesome to me.

I thought about all the different kinds of poems there are out there. Haikus, sinquains, sonnets, blank verse, free verse--so much to choose from. And because of my friend, Teri's, death, I have really been thinking about the end of my life. Would people say about me the kinds of things they have said about Teri, things I know first-hand to be true? When it comes time for me to see Jesus face-to-face, what kind of poem will He have written with my life? I've decided I'm hoping for a villanelle.

Without going into too much detail, a villanelle is a poem with a refrain. Many of you are familiar with Dylan Thomas' "Do not go gently into that good night," which is a villanelle, with the repeating refrain, "Rage, rage against the dying of the light" or something similar to it. (It's really a much more complex fixed form, but you get the idea.) Anyway, I want my life to be a villanelle, and I'm praying that the refrain God is writing is about His faithfulness. If every stage of my life is a stanza, I want people to be able to see that in every single circumstance I faced in my life, good or bad, God was faithful. I want those who knew me to know that whether I live to be a very old woman or am taken earlier than seems reasonable, my trust in God's faithfulness did not waver. I want my children to be able to say of me that their mother was a woman who trusted God above all else, even when that trust and faith seemed illogical by the standards of the world. I want Marc to be able to say that his wife was someone who trusted in God's faithfulness in the good times and in the bad times. That's the kind of life I'm working toward. Some days, I'm pretty far away from that. And like Paul, I know I will not attain this goal while I'm alive. But also like him, I continue to strive for the goal, longing to live the life Christ Jesus created me to live.

And what kind of poem is God writing in Sarah Beth's life? Oh, my friends...a really beautiful sonnet, one that could be sung by flaming tongues above. I am so proud to be her Mom. If you could know how she has carried herself through this week...well, you'd be very proud of her, too. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are aware of the poem God is writing with your life, and that you are not being thrown off-balance by Ukrainian, which is so close to Russian that it's unnerving not to be able to understand it. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

My soul weeps

Teri and Ed at Bella Note in March. We had a wonderful evening, laughing and joking and watching our kids perform.
Teri and Rebecca at our house for Easter. We are playing cards, something the Hooks family and the Tarleton family loved to do together.

My soul weeps because of grief; strengthen me according to Your word. Psalm 119:28

I'm trying hard not to think You unkind
But Heavenly Father, if You know my heart
Surely You can read my mind
Good people underneath a sea of grief
Some get up and walk away
Some will find ultimate relief.
"Home Free" --Wayne Watson

It seems unreal to me that this is the second blog I'm writing in the span of a few weeks about the unexpected death of a missionary. Yesterday we received a call, and I could tell immediately that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Marc looked like he'd been shot. My first thought, of course, was Sarah Beth, who is in another country at a retreat for MKs. Marc reassured me that she was fine, and then I gathered that something had happened to our dear friend, Teri. Teri had been having some health issues and was scheduled for an angiogram on Wednesday. She woke up early yesterday morning not feeling well, and she died unexpectedly as they were trying to get her to the hospital. She is 49, and she leaves behind a beloved husband and four children who were her crowning glory. She also leaves behind a huge hole in the hearts of those of us who served with her in Russia and in the Central and Eastern Europe field. When we told John-John and Hannah that Aunt Teri had died, they literally flung themselves face down and howled. I have never heard that kind of sound coming from my children. It was terrible, to say the least. We were able to talk to Sarah Beth via skype (thank you to Uncle Seba and Aunt Erin and to Uncle Robert and Aunt Elaine, who all worked so we could talk to our girl...we love you all so much and are so glad you are there). She was with Ed and Teri's twin 17-year-old daughters, and she is, as you would expect, devastated. Ed and Teri not only were our colleagues on this field, but they were missionaries in residence at our FPO, so we lived with them in the same quad for two months. To my kids, Aunt Teri was as real a member of our family as possible. She loved them before she laid eyes on them. They adored her. Our lives are forever changed.

I spent all of yesterday on the phone. Of course, I talked to my own family, who were ready and willing, as usual, to drop everything to listen to me as I cried. I talked to my beloved Tara, who said all the right things and made me laugh with a story about being a missionary in Brazil. I talked to folks at the school here in Moscow, who were stunned by the news. Friends who are home on Stateside Assignment called to check on us...and to share our grief. By midnight last night, I was pretty much exhausted from talking and grieving.

As I was sitting in bed reading last night and trying to get my brain to stop spinning, John-John came in to give me "lovies." As my tall boy crawled into my lap, it occurred to me that he was really digesting death for the first time. I kissed and hugged him, and he said, "Mommy, I just can't get over Aunt Teri." I told him we would never get over Aunt Teri, but we could be happy for her because she was with Jesus. Then he said, "But we still have Uncle Ed, right?" They were such a team...John-John thought that maybe if Aunt Teri was gone, Uncle Ed was, too. When I assured him that we still had Uncle Ed, he seemed comforted and went to bed. I looked again at a drawing he had done earlier in the day, and it showed Jesus waiting for Teri with a big smile, but people crying over Teri on the ground. That's a pretty good depiction, isn't it? Jesus was waiting for His own, but we who are left behind are filled with grief we simply can't contain.

I have zero words of wisdom. I cannot tell you how this will glorify God. I cannot tell you that, this side of heaven, Teri's death will ever make sense to me. But I can assure you that He will be glorified, and He knows why this was the time for Teri to join Him and leave us. And while that does not stop the crying or the sadness or the grief, it does give me comfort to know that He is still in control. Teri had a facebook page, on which she would give updates about different things. On Sunday, the last full day of her life, Teri's status said, "Teri is smiling, it's Sunday!" She loved Jesus more than anything, and she gave her entire life to Him. I am comforted to know that for Teri, Sunday has come, and she is with the Savior she loved so much. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you do not grieve like the world grieves, and that you have been privileged to know someone like Teri. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Eighteen years...it's been a good run

This is my favorite picture taken of us here. That is one handsome feller God gave me.

So this is my prayer: that your love will flourish and that you will not only love much but well. Learn to love appropriately. You need to use your head and test your feelings so that your love is sincere and intelligent, not sentimental gush. Live a lover's life, circumspect and exemplary, a life Jesus will be proud of bountiful in fruits of the soul, making Jesus Christ attractive to all, getting everyone involved in the glory and praise of God. Philippians 1:9-11 (The Message)

When I met Marc, I was engaged to marry someone else. Yep. I'm not even kidding. I didn't like Marc at all, and he didn't think much of me, either. God is such a hoot. Fast forward a year-and-a-half, to my senior year of college. I was directing a show, and Marc was in charge of lights and sound. I borrowed his pen after rehearsal one night, and the rest, as they say, is history. That was twenty years ago, and we've never been apart since.

People were shocked that Marc and I were even remotely interested in one another, much less crazy in love almost immediately. Those kinds of things are hard to explain, aren't they? But I knew immediately that I would marry him. It wasn't that he was so good-looking (he was handsome, but I think much better-looking now) or so brilliant (though he was and is the smartest person I've ever known), but that his heart for God was so big. Now, if you knew Marc then, you're surprised by that. But the very first real conversation we had was about God, and I fell in love almost instantly with everything he had to say. And while we haven't always been the people God created us to be, I can say that never, in twenty years together, have I doubted that Marc loved God with a passion. He is the most sincere Christ-follower I have ever known. I'm so glad to be his wife.

Since we have been here, I have often been an absolute nut case. Completely overwhelmed by the language, the culture, my own family...I have so often been of little help to anyone around me. But Marc has been a rock. He loved this city from the moment he set eyes on it. His love for this place has not wavered...and it is not a really lovable place. But Marc's strength as a missionary is this: he is able to see this mega-city and her inhabitants with God's eyes and not his own. Where I can be critical and negative, always seeing the possibility of doom and gloom, Marc is convinced that God is always out in front of us, directing our steps, making our path straight. He delights in God's word in a way that no one else I know does. (I found him giggling over Ezekiel the other day...no small feat, my friends.) And slowly but surely, as we settle into this place and this life, as we look forward to our one-year anniversary on the field (can you imagine???), Marc is convincing us all that it is possible not to just survive here, but to flourish. We are starting to see the city as Marc sees it. What better gift could we, as a family, receive than to see the world around us as Marc does?

Today is our 18th anniversary. (Marc said we'd had a good run to somebody the other day, and the entire room collapsed in laughter. Hence the title.) I cannot imagine a life that does not include Marc. He is my very best friend. He loves me when I am completely and totally unlovable. He sees the best in people when I have a tendency to see the worst. He loves his children passionately. He loves his work passionately. He loves his God passionately. And thank God, he loves me passionately. I am blessed beyond measure by his presence in my life. I will never be able to say it enough: except for my salvation, he is God's greatest gift to me. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are blessed with somebody special in your life, and that you have a trip to IKEA planned for today, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The plan for today

If I say, "Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be night," even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You. Psalm 139:11-12

Empty nets lying there at the water's edge
Told a story that few could believe
And none could explain
How some crazy fishermen
Agreed to go where Jesus said
With no thought for what they could gain
For Jesus had called them by name.
"For the Sake of the Call"--Steven Curtis Chapman

I have only a few minutes this morning--Marc is off retrieving John-John and Han from a sleepover--but after a great evening, I definitely wanted to catch you up on how God is at work in my life. We had a perfect evening last night--TGIFridays, Starbucks, and a lovely stroll on Arbat Street. Of course, the food was wonderful and the coffee tasted like home, but the best part of all was the chance to really talk with one another without the interruption of the kids. Monday is our 18th anniversary, and we always like on our anniversary to sit down and discuss where we are and where we're headed. Of course, this year's conversation was a little bit different (and pretty interesting) because where we are...well, it's a lot different from years past. And where we are spiritually is a lot different, too.

There is a big part of me that loves logic and order and reason. I like for things to make sense. And nothing about being here makes sense, so this has been especially difficult for me. Marc has a lot of "go-with-the-flow" in him, but I really like for things to be exactly what I think they're going to be. Moscow, the life of a missionary, being a full-time wife and mother...none of these things has turned out to be exactly what I thought they would be, and so I have struggled to be less rigid, more flexible, more compassionate toward others, more trusting of the decisions of others...sometimes with pretty good success, but sometimes with no success at all. As we talked about the future, about the next term, or whether there would be a next term at all, I was struck by not only how much my life has changed, but also by how little of the future I can really see from where I am right now. I love the ten-year plan. Love it. But I can't even picture a ten-week plan right now. And for once in my life, I'm learning that what God wants from me is just obedience. I'm on a need-to-know basis, and I just don't need to know right now. I'll admit that's a big pill for me to swallow, but it's also one that's going down easier and easier as time goes by and I settle into this life that God has for me right now.

I don't know your situation. Some of you are my good friends and family. Some of you are other missionaries. Many of you are people I do not know and will likely never know. But I know this: all He wants from us is our obedience. Everything else falls into place when we simply say, "Yes!" to whatever He has for us right now. I promise if you'll just submit to Him, your life will be so much easier and more content. I know that the less I've pestered Him about tomorrow, the better my todays have become. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are trusting God for today's plan, and that you had a venti caramel frappucino some time recently. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Walking in the midst of trouble

Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me; You will stretch forth Your hand against the wrath of my enemies, and Your right hand will save me. The LORD will accomplish what concerns me; Your lovingkindness, O LORD, is everlasting; do not forsake the work of Your hands. Psalm 138: 7-8

I haven't posted in several days, so I thought I'd catch you all up with life here in Russia. We had unexpected (but wonderful) guests on Sunday, because our friend, Marty's, volunteer team got stuck in Moscow on their way out to Far East Russia. On Monday, we met with the summer interns who have worked in Moscow all summer as part of their debriefing before heading home to the States. Tuesday was our "day off" from having others in our home. Wednesday we had our usual card night at our house, and last night was English Club. That's a lot of folks in and out of here! Tonight, Marc will pick up the son of a friend at the airport and he'll spend the night with us before the kids head to MKR (missionary kids retreat), a wonderful time for the teenagers in our region to all be together. (Think youth camp, but in a really cool place.) When they return, I'll tell you where they were, but for security reasons, I generally don't give that kind of stuff out beforehand. But needless to say, our day will be filled with ironing clothes and packing S.B.'s suitcase for MKR. I forgot--our phone and internet also went down for two days, which wasn't all that bad, to be honest. It was kind of quiet and nobody fought over who got the most computer time.

English Club last night was wonderful, as usual. I can't get over the fact that 15 people are coming consistently throughout the summer. Most of them are university students, so they are working this summer as many hours as possible, yet they choose to take the time to come here every week. We are growing closer and closer to them, and even had the chance last night to talk about some spiritual things during our tea time at the end. I was asked a question about baptism, and was able to point out that the difference between our faith and the Orthodox faith is that we emphasize an individual's need for a relationship with Christ...quite a foreign concept to any Russian. Yet I had the opportunity to share that we read our Bible every morning, we pray throughout the day, and that in our family, each member has chosen for himself or herself to be a follower of Jesus Christ. I did not make that decision for the children. They made it for themselves. I could tell that this was a little confusing for them, but as we continue to work with them, I am praying that we will continue to be able to talk about what our personal faith means to us, and what it looks like lived out in front of them.

After they left (and after I talked to my sister on the phone), I stood at my kitchen window and took the video above. It is pretty on the video, but not as startlingly beautiful as in real life. Every night, one of us walks by the window and comments on the gorgeous sunset. (So now you know that in the summer, my children are still up at 11...stink! I tried to keep that to myself so you would think I was a better mother. Oh, well.) After I took the video, I simply stood at the window, looking at this city, thinking about and praying for the thousands of people in my line of vision. The only thing that came to my mind was "Great is Thy Faithfulness." Over and over, I kept thinking of the verse that says, "Strength for today, and bright hope for tomorrow/blessings all mine with ten thousand beside." I was overcome with appreciation for the faithfulness God has shown me. We have known our share of walking in the midst of trouble since we came here. We have known our share of enemies--not people, but emotions like discouragement, homesickness, and sadness. Yet again and again, He has been faithful to stand up for us against those enemies, to revive us, to save us with His right hand. And if He's done that, then I believe He will complete His promise to accomplish that which concerns us. As I see in my mind's eye those faces that are in our home every week for English club, people I have come to love immensely, I am comforted that He will accomplish something in them. He is, after all, imminently faithful...the ultimate promise keeper.

Well, time to get on the elliptical and listen to this week's sermon from my home church. We've received several notes from different pastors, and what's really fun is to download their sermons and listen to them, too. It makes the time on the machine go faster. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are trusting God to accomplish that which concerns you, and that your stack of ironing isn't piled to the sky. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

He loves this city

I thought you'd enjoy pics of Sarah Beth's part of the kids' room. It is covered in the normal stuff all teenage girls love: The Beatles and Russian Football posters. The star on the left is the name of her favorite player--Andrei Arshavin.
More Arshavin posters. The words in the heart--nash chelovyek (roughly)--mean "our man."
More Russian Football. The recent Euro Championships, in which Russia made it to the semifinals, had the whole family (along with the rest of Moscow) enthralled.

"Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving and pay your vows to the Most High; call upon Me in the day of trouble; I shall rescue you, and you will honor Me." Psalm 50: 14-15

I can hear that thunder in the distance
Like a train on the edge of town
I can feel the brooding of Your Spirit
"Lay your burdens down, Lay your burdens down."
--"As Sure as Gold (Revival)" Robin Mark

One of my favorite memories of my time as a praise team member at my church is when we took a Sunday night and did the entire songbook of Revival in Belfast by Robin Mark. There are many great songs you know in this collection, but my favorite (at least now) is the song I quote above. It is not as well-known as the other songs in the collection, but it is literally about God's love for a city. I listened to it yesterday as I was walking home from the grocery store. I had just finished listening to my pastor's sermon from Sunday, and I just clicked on this song to get me home. I love it because it is so much about the sights and sounds of a city. I don't think I could totally appreciate that in Middleburg, Florida, which is a fairly small place with not much noise. But a city of 15 million is constant noise. I can't imagine how I'm going to sleep if they ever finish the construction outside our building and I'm not constantly listening to the sound of cranes and drills and hammers.

I also love this song because it is a reminder to me that God loves this mega-city that I call home. (Mega-city is the IMB's designation for a city of this size.) He loves these streets. He loves the high-rise apartment buildings. He loves the drunks leaning on trees to try and stand straight. He loves the little kids playing in the parks. He loves every inch of this city, and He longs to see every person here come to know Him and His love and His forgiveness. It can be overwhelming to live in a place this big. How do you tackle a city of 15 million? The block on which I live has as many people as the town I came from in Florida. I can't even comprehend that. The answer is, of course, that you don't tackle a whole city. You chop it into pieces, you figure out ways to approach groups, and you go from there and pray that God can use you in some way. The answer is that you have an English club and a Bible study that meets in your home, and you work on loving those people to Christ. The answer is that you lay your burden for the city on Him, and sit back and watch the amazing things our giant God can do with lives that are just submissive to Him.

I've said it a thousand times--I have no clue why God chose my family to come here. Not a clue. There are far better (in my opinion) families to do the work we are doing here. But the truth is that He called us. The secret to success here is not in what we do with that call, but in how obedient we are to it. I have no idea what God is going to do with the people who show up every Thursday night for English Club. But I know that God honors our faithfulness in having them in our home. And I can't help but think that in our little, tiny part of this huge city, God is up to something. I don't know what, but I am waiting with anticipation for what He's about to do, and I'm so grateful that I get to be here to witness it.

It is a rainy, stormy day here in Moscow. Normally, that would not be a good thing, but it has been in the 90s every day this week, and we have no air conditioning, so we are grateful for a little cool air. It may cancel the picnic we had planned for tonight with some friends, but pizza and a movie at our house sound good, too. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are waiting with anticipation for how God shows Himself in the place you are called to, and that you are enjoying a break in the heat! Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

I'm looking over some stones this morning

"Can a woman forget her nursing child and have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you. Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; your walls are continually before Me." Isaiah 49:15-16

This is what it means
To be held
How it feels
When the sacred
Is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is
To be loved
And to know
That the promise was
When everything failed
We'd be held.
--"Held" Natalie Grant

It is a rare occasion when words fail me. I love words, consider them one of God's great gifts to me, am frustrated when I can't recall the English word for something I normally say in Russian or can't recall the Russian word for something I usually say in English. Rarely do I come upon a situation in which I can't find the words to express how I feel. This morning is one of those occasions.

Early this morning, the vonage phone rang. I think it's universal that when the phone rings in the night, it's not good news. Marc ran to get it, whispering, "It's Tara, and something is really wrong," as he handed it to me. If you are a regular reader of this blog, you'll remember that Tara is my closest friend, soulmate, and partner in crime. Tara and her husband, Matt, live with their two children in Brazil. My first thought was that something was wrong with the baby Tara is expecting in January. But through her tears, she assured me that her family was well, but that tragedy had struck. Elaine, her mentor since she arrived in Brazil, had gotten sick while on vacation. She went to the doctor on Friday, was diagnosed with pneumonia, went home, went back to the doctor on Monday, was hospitalized with a massive bacterial infection, placed in ICU, and not expected to live through the night. One by one, her organs were failing. Indeed, about twenty minutes after we hung up, Tara called back to relay the news that Elaine had died. Of course, I longed for nothing more than just to be in Brazil, sitting on Tara's bed, holding her hand. And of course, I am not. Instead, I did my best to comfort my precious friend from thousands of miles and seven time zones away. But what is there to say, really, when nothing makes sense? When God's plan seems so unreasonable, how do we run to Him? Elaine has five children. Her youngest is nine years old. Why is this the plan? What do you do with a God who is so big that He is incomprehensible?

The only answer I can come up with--and remember that education is my particular area of expertise, not theology--is that it is precisely for times like these that we look back on our stones of remembrance, when we recall, one by one, the ways in which God has been ever-faithful as He has led us to this place. On Sunday, one of the things I said in Bible study was that I do not think God has helped me--I know He has. I look again and again at those times in my life where I not only survived in difficult circumstances but flourished, and I know that He has held me in His right hand, where my name is engraved, and brought me through. We have given up everything to come to this place and serve Him, not out of some hope of great reward, but simply because in the face of all He has done for us, simple obedience seems the least we can do for Him. I don't know why God called us to a difficult life. I don't know why He gave me Tara but called us to two totally separated parts of the world. I don't know why He called Elaine home when it seems so unreasonable. But I can rest--and find comfort--in this: He knows. He knows, and He is faithful, and He loves me far more than I am even capable of comprehending. I would love to be able to say that faithful service to God leads to a life of luxury and ease. So far, that has not been my experience. But I will proclaim this to my dying day: He is faithful, He is trustworthy, and He is worthy of any sacrifice I make. And somehow, even through tragedy and heartache, He will be glorified.

It is a busy day here in Moscow. We believe we will be leaving for Ukraine tomorrow night, so there is much, much, much to be done. We also have to swap some kids around at some point today--Hannah slept over with a friend, and their son slept over here with John-John. (By the way--good friends for my kids--doesn't that giant of loneliness look smaller and smaller and smaller? That guy just might be on his way out the door.) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are trusting in a mighty, mighty God no matter what circumstance you find yourself in today. And if, by chance, you are so blessed that God has given you a best friend, someone who knows you inside and out and loves you anyway, someone who prays for you daily, who tells you when you're being difficult, who makes you laugh until you cry...and if you can look that person in the face today...oh, my friends, spend some time laughing and hugging that person, because you are mighty, mighty blessed. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Plowing concrete: what church planting looks like in Russia

Great is Thy faithfulness
O God my Father
There is no shadow of
Turning with Thee.
Thou changest not
Thy compassions,
They fail not.
As Thou hast been
Thou forever wilt be.
--"Great is Thy Faithfulness"

You're unchangeable.
You're unstoppable.
You're unshakable.
That's what You are.
You are God alone.
--"Not a god (God alone)"

Yesterday was church at our house. It's such an encouraging time for us. I played the piano and sang (it's been a while since I played the piano, but it went okay), and then we had Bible study for about 2 1/2 hours, and then we had tea and sweets and played a game of cards. All together, church takes us about four to four and a half hours. It's going to be weird to go back to the States and "do" church the way it's done there. Anyway, we studied the passage where Jesus walks on the water and Peter sinks under the water after a couple of steps. For most of you who read this blog, that's a very familiar story, one you've known since you were children. But it is different here. Our Russian friends do not know these stories. In fact, one of them asked if Peter is an important person in the Bible. Next week, Jesus is going to tell him that he is Peter, and on this rock the church will be built. Yeah, he's kind of an important guy in the Bible. It was just a reminder to me of how different it is for Russians to read the Bible, a book completely unfamiliar to them. It also makes me so thankful for my own background, which is so steeped in the importance of God's word. Anyway, the Bible study was wonderful, great questions, great responses, and a whole lot of it in Russian. (Our friends also speak English to varying degrees, but Russian is the language of their hearts, and so we want to speak their heart language as much as possible.) When Marc drove them to the Metro, one of them asked about how Jeff and Karla, our team leaders, are doing church in America. He explained that they were attending a church, not having church in their home. "What is that like, Marc?" Dema asked. "Does the priest perform a ritual of some sort?" Marc responded that the answer would have to wait until next week, because they were at the Metro station, but that he would prepare an explanation for Dema of what American church was like. It was a stark reminder to us of how difficult the combination of a lifetime of communism and orthodox religion is to overcome as Russians pursue faith in Christ. I read somewhere that Russians are Orthodox in tradition and atheist in worldview. That's about as well as I've seen the Russian psyche explained.

Our dear friend, Tim, went on a mission trip to Brazil with a group of men from our church a couple of years ago. They literally walked into a village and saw hundreds come to Christ. He was astounded, and we listened to his stories with awe at what God can do. In East Asia, where communism is the law and religious persecution is the norm, there is a church planting movement that is lighting a fire across the most populous country on earth. In South Asia, where Hinduism and Buddhism are now giving way to a rise of Islamic belief, where national believers are literally putting their lives on the line, the church is growing. In the Middle East, perhaps the most dangerous place on earth to serve as a missionary, there are amazing things happening, where God is speaking to people in visions and dreams, and people are literally waiting for someone to come to them and tell them about Jesus. In Russia, we are plowing concrete. No one is running to us to be saved. No one is begging us to tell them about Jesus. We don't have stories of hundreds coming to Christ. In one place in our region, a team worked for five years before they saw a single decision for Christ. When you think of Russia, you think of the ice and snow of the tundra. It's a fitting symbol for the ice and snow that has formed over people's hearts here. If we counted on numbers of churches planted and new believers saved, it would be really discouraging.

But our God is so big, He makes this place look small. He is unshakable. He is unstoppable. He is faithful beyond comprehension. Every week, there is progress. We were talking about Peter's lack of faith, his doubts, causing him to sink under the water. I know that Dema struggles with doubts. I told him that I love Peter so much because he struggles, because he is the everyman who is so like me, because I struggle with faith and doubt sometimes, too. He smiled at me and said, "Yes, Kellye, but Jesus does not let him sink. He comes to pull him out of the water. I think reading the Bible and studying it helps with our doubts." And suddenly, there was something going on in that room. I understood that Dema was making a step forward. And while I would throw myself on the floor and praise God loudly if he had just gone ahead and made a decision for Christ right then and there, I can still get down on my knees and be grateful for the step of faith it took for Dema to say that. What God's work looks like here is different from how it looks other places, but that does not mean He isn't at work here. He is. Step by step, inch by inch, He is plowing through the frozen concrete of Russia. And on days like yesterday, when progress is evident, I'm so thankful that He asked my family to come along, put on our hard hats, and plow along with Him.

It's 9a.m., Marc is gone on a business trip for the day, and no one else in my house is awake. I think I'll take this opportunity to get a little cleaning done, so off I must go. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are watching God sweep like fire through the people He has given you to love, and that it's not a cloudy, cold day where you are. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The sky is clear, but I know rain clouds are on the horizon

I don't know what John is doing with his hands, but his mouth is full of shashleek--Russian barbecue--which we would call shish-kebab.
Hannah and some of her pals at the fourth of July picnic. When did Hannah get this old?
Hannah making the play at the kickball world championships on July 4th. Actually, there probably is such a thing, so you should know it's actually just the kickball game they played at the picnic on July 4th.
In true John-John fashion, even when kicking the ball, he looks like he's making some kind of karate move. When he was little--maybe 4--we were outside and it was windy. He started karate chopping all over the place, and when I asked him why, he said, "I fight the wind, Mommy. I fight the wind."

There are giants in the land
But within our reach
There is a victor's sword
A mighty, sovereign Lord
The Rock of Ages.
--"Giants in the Land" by Wayne Watson

"When we heard it, our hearts melted and no courage remained in any man any longer because of you; for the LORD your God, He is God in heaven above and on earth beneath." Joshua 2:11

It's been a few days since I blogged, and I'd love to say it was because I was so busy. Unfortunately, it was because I have been so sick. I finally got into the doctor yesterday. I was able to schedule an appointment with an ENT specialist, and he suctioned out my ear, which allows me to hear again, and told me what kind of ear drops to get to cure the second infection that was lurking behind the gunk in my ear. (Lovely, I know.) Unfortunately, we have not been able to find the drops in any pharmacy yet, so this morning my ear is not painful, but not as good as yesterday. Sigh.

I have spent some time watching really good movies in the last few days. I watched Rebecca and Dead Poet's Society with Sarah Beth and Facing the Giants last night with Hannah and Marc. While I adore the movies I watched with Sarah Beth, it was the movie last night that made a real impact on me.

If you're not familiar with the movie (and we'd not seen it before), it's a production of a church in Georgia. Some of the acting isn't fabulous, though I thought the lead characters did quite well, and the production values are really good. At the end, when the main character cries out to God, "I am overwhelmed, Lord," well...there wasn't a dry eye in the room. Especially Marc and I, who cried our way through the whole movie. And I'm not talking some sniffles, either, or a few tears easily taken care of with a tissue. No, sir--I mean hand me the kleenex box kind of crying. And not just because God has taken care of so many giants to get us here to Russia--logistical giants, personal giants, spiritual giants--but also because there are many giants not just in the land, but camping out in our living room. To name a few:

• visa issues that began the week after we got here in October
• financial issues related to paying for the kids' schooling
• language issues (those would be universal for any adult learning a new language)
• health issues--we struggled through our first winter with nagging health problems
• family issues--you try being together 24/7 for over a year now!
• loneliness issues--enough said
• cultural issues--ask anyone who has been here, and they'll tell you that Russians can be hard to love collectively
  

When I look at that list, I have to be honest...it seems insurmountable. I look at that list and know that there is NO WAY that I can handle even one of those things. I look at that list, and I want to book a flight home to my Momma and Daddy and lick my wounds and get my job back and get back to "real" life.

There is a moment in the film, when the main character finds out that his job is in jeopardy, that he tells another character that God has not released him from that place. And the other character tells a story of two farmers who prayed to God for rain. One sat in the house; the other went to the fields and got them ready for rain. Which one saw the rain? The one who prepared for it because he KNEW it was coming. Until God moves you, bloom here where He planted you, the older man tells the younger. And get out there and prepare for rain. Now, I know it's just a movie, but we nearly had to hit the pause button to recover from that scene.

I am forty years old. I have had a wonderful career as a teacher. I have three beautiful children, a husband I am crazy about, a family I adore, a guaranteed spot on the praise team, a great church. So what in the world am I doing here? And with just one look at that list, why do I stay? Because, like Rahab in Numbers, I know that the Lord my God is God in heaven above and on earth below. I tremble in His presence. He called. I had no choice but to answer. He has not released me from this place. So instead of trembling in fear at that list, He wants me to prepare my fields for rain that is coming. Not that may come. That is coming. And though I'm looking outside at a bright, clear morning without a cloud in the sky, I know the rain clouds are out there somewhere, and I don't want to miss out on the harvest. The list above, by the way, isn't even half of the giants we are looking at here. Some things are simply too personal to share in such a public format. But I listed them this morning in my prayer journal, and here's the promise I made to God--as He slays each of these giants, I will publicly give Him the glory. As the giants in this land disappear one by one, I will share them with you, and together we can praise the mighty God who is God in heaven above and on earth below. Deal?

Well, it's time for me to run. We are headed to the park for a few hours of fun with some friends of ours, folks who have just recently moved here, and whose company we really enjoy. Anybody else hear the giant of loneliness starting to totter? Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are busy cultivating your fields for the rain that's on the way, and that you are spending the day playing with your kids, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

I knew all that Shakespeare would pay off some day

быт или не быт; вот чем вапрос. (To be or not to be; that is the question.)--Hamlet, Shakespeare

As I mentioned in my last post, I have been pretty sick for the last several days. Yesterday was the first better day I have had, and last night was the first night in several that I slept more than two hours. Of course, I was still up at five, but I felt pretty rested in comparison to the nights before. Unfortunately, I'm feeling kind of yuck this morning, so I'm sitting up in Marc's recliner, blogging and listening to a crime show on tv. (I don't care whether it's court tv or trutv or whatever...I love all those forensic shows.) I still feel better...just not more than I did yesterday, which was my hope. I also slept through a dose of antibiotic and tylenol, so the pain has taken hold of me this morning a little more than I'd like. So while I wait for the tylenol to kick in, I thought I'd blog a little bit.

I'm going to confess something now, and it's only going to confirm for you that I'm as big a nerd as you think I am. I love Shakespeare. Honestly, I have ready all of Shakespeare (thank you, Dr. Jones), and I really enjoy his work. I like teaching him (though he can be a little dark for high school), I like reading him, I like analyzing him. But I must tell you that all those years ago, when I was sitting in Dr. Jones' class and reading the entirety of the big, red Shakespeare book, I wondered if it would ever mean anything in "real" life. I mean, it's fun to read, good stories and all that, but was I ever going to use it? (Of course, I became an English teacher and taught some Shakespeare every single year for seventeen years, but that's a different story.) In the last few days of being sort of still and quiet (an anomaly for me), I've had some time to think about ol' Shakespeare, and I've decided that there's some pretty good stuff in there, stuff I can use in real life. And if I'm going to use something in real life, the most elemental question in Shakespeare is the quote above. To be or not to be?

Now, let me clarify that when Hamlet utters these words, he's really contemplating whether life is worth living or if he should just go ahead and kill himself. After all, his uncle has killed his father, married his mother, and taken over the kingdom. To top it all off, his father's ghost is pressuring him to seek vengeance and he's got a girlfriend with some stability/sanity issues. Hamlet has troubles. He has issues. So he's really contemplating something I'm not. I'm a pretty life-affirming gal. Even in the pain of the worst ear infection in the history of mankind, I'm not trying to figure out whether or not life is worth living. It is. Unequivocally, life is worth living.

However, I've had some time to think about why that question is so elemental to who we are. We have choices to make about who we are. We have choices to make about how we present ourselves to others. We have choices to make about the life we live. As I've thought about it, at least from a Christian perspective, to be means to be exactly what God created you to be. Not to be is trying to be something else. Every day, maybe every minute, we decide to be or not to be. This blog is a great example. I could decide to present to you a voice of confidence and perfection and passionate fire for the work of God. But that wouldn't always be the truth. Perfection wouldn't ever be the truth, and this new world has taken some of my confidence, and to be honest, some days I just want to live a normal life in Middleburg, Florida, and leave the "God work" to those who can do it better and are more worthy of doing it. So I have to decide...am I going to be or not be?

It's hard for me to choose to be the person I am, created by God in a specific way, but flawed, flawed, flawed. I would love to be more together, with a house that's always clean, two cars in the garage, perfect children, and a full bank account with no financial worries. But I'm not that person. I have a messy apartment, a car only because somebody else left town, a far from perfect family, and school tuition that I have no clue how I'm going to pay. But somewhere along the way, God chose me and my imperfect bunch to do something kind of extraordinary. We still can't tell you why, but He picked us for this place at this time. And though we don't know all the answers to every question in our lives, we have learned beyond all else that He is faithful. Faithful to provide, faithful to save, faithful to protect...faithful. All I have to do is be faithful to be the person He created me to be--warts and all.

Well, it's 7:30, and I've been up for a while, so I think I'm going to lay down and watch my crime shows. (Did your grandmother used to say she was watching her stories? That's what I was going for there.) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your choice today is to be, and that where you live it's not 56 degrees in the summer. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Blessings in droves

John-John and his iguana pal high-fiving each other at the Moscow zoo. We went earlier this week with our friends who left on Thursday for a year of Stateside Assignment (STAS) in Florida.
Our Sarah Beth with her friend, Sarah Beth. They call themselves SBSquared. What goofballs. This is also at the Moscow zoo.

Our help is in the name of the LORD, who made heaven and earth. Psalm 124:8

It's funny how God answers our prayers sometimes. I prayed and prayed that July 4th would not be depressing. The first year we have not celebrated in the good ol' U.S.A., far away from home, without our traditional day at the pool with my parents and aunt and uncle...it had the makings of a depressing day of homesickness. Instead, Marc and the kids spent the day at an all-mission picnic (where Marc was the hero of the kickball game, at least according to him), and I stayed at home sick as a dog. See--I didn't have time to feel homesick. Prayer answered. I was too busy rocking back and forth in the fetal position from the pain of an ear infection that I let get out of hand because I just thought I had a clogged ear. Unfortunately, the pain radiating with every heartbeat down my neck and into my jaw declared that, indeed, there was an infection. I took augmentin and then penicillin, all to no avail. Luckily for me, my friend Frances called from the riverbed in Alabama yesterday and gave me the Russian name of a really high-powered antibiotic they prescribe in the U.S. Marc was kind enough to run to the pharmacy and pick it up, and after 1,000 mgs last night and another 1000 mgs this morning, I'm still in a lot of pain, but I can tell I'm the tiniest bit better. The screaming in my ear is down to a ringing, which isn't pleasant but is bearable. I'm hoping after another day today of light activity (I had no activity yesterday at all) that I'll be a lot better by tomorrow. There is something to be said for getting anything over the counter you want.

One thing I did do yesterday was talk to my parents and to my friend, Frances, and to my best friend, Tara. Frances is just one of those people who is a helper. She and her family are on STAS until September 1st, but she took the time on July 4th to call me and check in to see how we were handling our first Independence Day away from home. Frances has taken me places in her car, helped me with medications, and pitched in whenever help was needed. When our pipes burst and the kids were here with the neighbors screaming at them, it was her husband, Kris, who flew to the rescue. I look forward to them coming back in September, and spending time with them again. But one of the things that really hit me yesterday after talking to Tara was the kind of friendships I have formed in the last year, and how they really are God's fulfillment of the desires of my heart.

Tara and Matt and Marc and I met at candidate conference last April. We were in the same small group, which meant that we spent basically the whole time together. We also made other friends--Robert and Elaine, who are in Budapest--and we all just hit it off. It was one of those things where you are forced to be 100% real with people, because you're all in the same boat. Everybody is going to go through the interview, which is a little daunting, to be honest. Everybody is going to have to deal with medical stuff. Everybody is going to have to sign that paper that says the IMB doesn't negotiate with terrorists, and we want to go anyway. You're all there together. So I can honestly tell you that the weekend we all spent together was like friendship at hyperspeed. And I'm not that person. I'm not an open-up-and-talk-about-your-feelings kind of gal. I'm really not. So these friendships that had the stamp of eternity were kind of a shock to me.

Then we all went to FPO together. And we made more friends. There were the precious people in our quad--Darrell and Vicki, who are in Prague, Johann and Stacy and our precious baby Jack, who are in Prague, and Larry and Melissa, also in Prague, Greg and Barbara and their precious girls, in a place I can't mention, Shea and Rachel and Erin and Seba in Poland--precious, precious people to us. We spent hours together, playing, praying, worshiping, and just living together. I can't describe for you exactly what FPO is like, but it's an intense, draining time that you spend with people you really, really love. And our friendships just grew and grew and grew.

One of the great support pieces the IMB has put in place for us is these friendships. We talk often to these people from around the world, who share our heart, who know our warts (you can't live together that long and not show every fault you have), and who love us anyway. When Tara called yesterday, she didn't tell me how I should feel or tell me I was wrong or tell me I wasn't being very "Christian-ly"...she just let me talk and loved me and loved me and loved me. Then she got off the phone and prayed for me. And then she and her precious husband prayed for us together. Isn't that what real friendship looks like?

Several years ago, Marc and I lost a group of friends we had spent a great deal of time with. It was a terrible time, and something I don't want to rehash here for various reasons. But it occurred to me this morning that during that time we cried out again and again to God in our loneliness, praying for friendships that were real, that counted, that were without judgment attached, friendships we could feel so comfortable in that we could just be ourselves without fearing that we would be suddenly cut off because someone decided we weren't good enough to be friends with anymore. And He has answered that prayer in droves. My Daddy often comments that we sure do have a lot more social activities in Moscow than we ever had in Middleburg, and he's right. And without fail, every week since we've been here, we've talked to at least one of our "mission friends," people we love and who love us, whose friendship is invaluable to us, who are God's answer to our prayers all those years ago.

Never in my life did I imagine that my best friends would live in places like Prague and Brazil. Never did I imagine a world in which this blog would be read by people all over the world, because we have friends all over the world. God is funny and big and unpredictable. And though neither Tara nor I have found that one soulmate in the places where we serve, I think I can speak for both us when I say that we are forever grateful to a God who loves us enough to give us each other.

Well, I have been sitting up for a whole hour now, and the ringing in my ear is climbing back up to a scream, so I'm going to take that as a sign to lie back down for a while. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that if you are blessed enough to have a best friend you can give them a hug, and that you catch your ear infection before it turns into the roaring disaster that mine is. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye