There is definitely a theme here

Our Christmas Day skype with my parents...love them! How did people live overseas before skype?!?!?!

Watching Sarah Beth open her present from us.

Skyping with my sisters...so precious to me!

Christmas Eve at Schloss Schonbrunn--a new tradition!

Wherever you are--be all there. Jim Elliot

This is, believe it or not, my 300th post on this blog. Amazing! I still can't get over the fact that anyone reads this, but I sure enjoy writing it. It's fun to look back over time and see where I've been and how I got to where I am right now. As I read over some old blogs from the last 4 1/2 years, I realize that I have lived in four countries during that time--Russia, Czech Republic, the U.S., and Austria. You have to give me this--my life isn't boring. :) It also occurs to me that as I look back over the last 299 blogs, a theme appears, a definite motif that traces through the ups and downs of this life I've been called to live. In all of these posts, in some way or another, I come back to God's absolute faithfulness time and time again. In the darkness of Russia, the limbo of the Czech Republic, the waiting of the U.S., and the transition into Austria, God has--again and again and again--proven Himself faithful, faithful, faithful.

I'm not going to lie--Austria has been a much more difficult transition than we had anticipated. It's easy to think that after you've done something once, it doesn't matter where you do it again...sort of like riding a bicycle. Once you know how to do it, you know how to do it. That hasn't proven true here. Adjusting and acclimating to Russia is very different from adjusting and acclimating to Austria. The people are different, the climate is different, the laws are different, and, of course, the language is different. What we have now that we didn't have when we went to Russia is perspective. We've been through this before. And because God was so faithful in Russia, in Czech Republic, in the U.S., we have every reason to believe that He will continue to be faithful here. So we walk on, we live our life, we try to learn the customs, the laws, the language, we try to develop relationships and ministry, and we know that we are not alone. We are exactly where we are supposed to be at this moment, and that makes life joyful even in the awkward moments of transition that are inevitable.

One thing that has helped me during this time is to be thankful and grateful for the things that are going well or are going right, and not just thankful, but vocal about my thankfulness to God. Instead of saying, "Thank you, Lord, for the many blessings of this life," I make a list. When I'm feeling particularly blue, I make a really detailed list. Because here's the deal: when I sit down to be really thankful, the blessings are overwhelming. I feel piddly and small for being ungrateful EVER, because my life is so full of God's very best. Maybe it's not the place I would have chosen, but God's idea of what my life should look like far surpasses anything my brain could come up with, even in a dream. Making copies for our visa applications yesterday, I realized that my 10-year-old has been to more countries than most adults will ever see. When Hannah goes to Bosnia in February, it will be her 13th country to visit. What?!?!?! But even better than that, our family has the chance to see God at work, up close and personal, to be fully dependent on Him, to taste and see that He is good. Those are not just words in a book, however holy it may be. Those are truths that we have tested and know to be absolute.

So what am I particularly thankful for on this last day of 2011, this 300th post? Of course, I'm thankful for my family, for our closeness, for our health and general happiness. I'm thankful for my close relationship with my sisters and parents, for the way they have invested in this life I've been called to. I'm thankful for friends in the States who constantly encourage me and love me, but who let me love and encourage them, too. I'm grateful for growing relationships here, both with colleagues and with those outside our organization. I'm thankful for the sweet fellowship of our church here, for the many nations represented each Sunday as we worship together. I'm thankful that we will start language lessons soon, and that I will be able to speak and be understood more than I am able to do right now. I'm grateful for our new kittens, for the way they have added to the fun of our lives here. I'm thankful for our colleagues in Russia, who we consider family and who have always treated us as "theirs," no matter where we live. And I'm thankful for this time of transition, this hard season, where God is teaching us new things, sloughing off more and more of the old man in each of us, growing something new and beautiful out of these jars of clay. I'll never get over it--He called us to this. Us. Knowing us, He called us, anyway. I'll never understand it, but I'm forever grateful.

It's time for me to start cooking. We have friends coming over tonight for New Year's Eve, and some colleagues from Hungary are coming to spend the night, too. There are pizzas and cheeseball to be made. :) Then tomorrow night, we get to hang out all night with colleagues in an effort to obtain our visas. It will be cold, but it will probably be fun. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are singing the songs of His ultimate, continuing, dependable faithfulness, and that your kittens are making you laugh as they chase stuff around, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The temper tantrum

John John and Bart Simpson, hanging out in a glacier. No big deal. :)

Our new home is absolutely breathtaking.

Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10

I am tougher than you may think.

The voice, the eyes, the...pleasant plumpness, the accent (deeper at some times than others)...they all make me appear to be a blonde marshmallow, a pushover, someone who is easily moved and manipulated. In reality, though, I can be pretty fierce. (Out there in the land of those I've taught, people are giggling, because they think fierce is...maybe a little understated.) Especially when it comes to my family, I am aptly named. (My name is Celtic, and it means warrior.) Do not mess with my family, or the wrath of Kellye will emerge. And it's not pretty, friends. I am a tigress in defense of my family. Like all parents, I want my children protected from harm, from those who would taunt and ridicule, from those who wish them ill for no good reason. It is in a parent's nature, I think, to stand straight in front of their children to protect them from evil. Isn't that why it's such an aberration when a parent harms a child? Isn't that why abuse of any kind shocks us, horrifies us? Because that is not the nature of parenthood. Parenthood loves and protects. It's how we are wired by our Creator.

So here is the question I have run smack up against in the last couple of weeks/months: when do I step aside and allow my children to learn the hard lessons? When is my protection, my stepping in and fixing things not part of what God has for them? And how is it possible to sit aside and watch my children struggle and suffer, taking comfort in the knowledge that the God who loves them even more than I do is the One in charge?

I'm going to be honest and tell you that I have no solid answers to these questions. In fact, on Tuesday, while I was walking in the morning, I had a complete and total meltdown next to the Danube river. Yep. Threw a temper tantrum at my Maker, right there in front of Him and everybody else. I did everything but jump up and down and stamp my feet. I was MAD. Mad because every time Marc leaves the country, every single thing goes wrong. Mad because he's in Tasmania and doesn't have internet access, so I have to handle everything without any help from him. Mad because Sarah Beth is a continent away. Mad because Hannah and John are dealing with bullies. Mad because other people get to live around the corner from their parents and I don't. Mad because other people's kids get to see their grandparents all the time, and mine don't. Mad because other people get to see their sisters, and I don't. Mad because my life seemed, at that moment, SO HARD. Why am I here, where I can't speak the language? Why can't I just live a normal life? (He must have laughed at that one. What is a normal life, anyway?) MAD, MAD, MAD!!! (Seriously, I was pretty upset.)

And you know what the kicker was for me? Hannah's light bulbs in her room went out, and I couldn't figure out how to get up there and fix it. I'd tried, but I just couldn't reach it. That was what pushed me over the edge. Light bulbs. I am not proud of that, my friends. I really am not. But I think if we're all a little more honest than is comfortable, it's almost always something small that is the backbreaker in our lives. It's rarely the big stuff that gets us. For me, it's allowing stuff to accumulate, to build and build in my heart (while, by the way, I tell everyone who asks that 'I'm doing fine') that makes me blow a gasket. And that's what I did on Tuesday. It wasn't really about light bulbs, of course. It was about my kids struggling and suffering. I don't like it. I don't want it. Don't mess with my kids, Lord. Haven't they given up enough? Hasn't Hannah spent enough of her life overseas and unhappy? C'mon, God! Cut them (and me) a break!

I'm going to be honest--I heard no voice from heaven telling me to be still and know Him. No touch comforted my soul. Nope. He just let me throw my temper tantrum, let me get it out of my system and go on with life. I went out that night with ladies from our organization here in Vienna, and it was a time of hooting laughter and comfort and encouragement. That helped. Things didn't look so dark, suddenly. There is something about people who know what this life is, who have experienced or are experiencing many of the same things...it's very comforting. And to share those things with people who love Jesus like you do, who share that foundation of complete commitment...it turns out that iron really does sharpen iron. Reminded by them of real truth, my prayer over Hannah that night was a sobbing cry to the God of both our hearts, praising Him that while we do not understand all that has happened here, and we don't know what He's up to or what He's doing in all of it, we do know Him. He is good. He loves us beyond measure. We have not just read about Him on Sundays. We have not just listened to sermons about Him. We know Him intimately. He is the lover of our souls. He holds us in his righteous right hand, never ever to let us go. And so the things that trouble us might not be better--stuff still goes wrong, has to be handled, people are still mean and vicious, we still miss Sarah Beth, we want Marc to come home--but we rest and are strengthened by the knowledge that the God who loves us brought us here, called us to this life, and walks the path with us day-by-day, minute-by-minute, second-by-second. We are never alone. Amen and amen.

The light bulbs got fixed, by the way. It had not occurred to me to ask for help. That's another topic for another blog--my inability to ask for help. I have two friends within a 30 second walk from my front door, and I had not considered the idea that maybe, just maybe, someone tall (really, really tall, by the way) might be willing to come in and help. Urgh. I frustrate myself, sometimes. Okay. All the time. But she has light in her room, and she can play her guitar in there, which was her main concern. And Wednesday was a little bit better than Tuesday. That helped. :) But I'm realizing as I continue to grow into this life, into this love affair with my Savior, that His love for me and for my family (and for you) is far beyond what I can comprehend. It might not always look like I want it to--comfortable and easy, like a great recliner. In fact, it almost never looks like that. But I would not trade it for a comfortable life around the corner from my parents and Sarah Beth and my sisters, a life full of cake mixes and easy food preparation, a life of speaking English all the time. His love for us, his plan for our lives...better than anything I can imagine. So I walk on, apologize for the temper tantrum, ask Him to help me with my unbelief and my lack of faith, and believe. In Him. In His love for me. In His love for my children.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your life is wrapped up in the Lord who loves you and created you and not in being comfortable, and that you are visiting a snowglobe museum later today, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The love story

The love of my life.

As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. Proverbs 27:17

One of my favorite moments while we were in the States happened in our Family Life Group (FLG) at church. It was the first Sunday we visited the group, and one of the ladies said, "Well, I don't know you, but I've followed the love story on facebook." It made me smile, both because it tickled me to think of us as "the love story," and because that really is a great description of our lives together.

Many of you don't know this, but I met Marc when he drove my fiance to the airport in OKC to pick me up from Spring break. I immediately took a dislike to him. To be fair, the feeling was mutual. He thought I was a goody-goody bowhead (a girl with long hair and a perpetual bow in said hair), and I thought he was a bad boy whose parents probably sent him to a Christian college to help him turn his life around. It makes me smile to this day to remember that awkward drive from Oklahoma City to Shawnee, trying to make chitchat and finally giving up, because we clearly just didn't like one another. I was a sophomore in college, and he was a freshman. We would not cross paths again for two years. When we did, I had (obviously) broken off my engagement. I was co-directing a show at school, and he was doing lights and sound. He loaned me a pen to make some notes and stayed behind to retrieve it. We began talking, and as the saying goes, that's all she wrote. I was hooked (pardon the pun) from that conversation onward. I told my roommate when she got up the next morning that I was going to marry him, and I was right. That was in September, 1988, and 23 years later, I only like and love him more.

It has not been a perfect ride. Like every marriage, there have been times of trouble, bumps in the road that we had to survive. Some of those bumps were pretty rough. Some of them were just normal, every day getting-on-each-other's-nerves kind of seasons. If I had to identify the hardest times, definitely one of them would be our first months in Russia, when we were in language school. I can remember saying to him, "I love you, but I don't really like you right now." To his credit, he didn't respond in kind. We survived it, in large part due to his kindness to me, his gracious nature with me. The only time I remember him "putting his foot down" was a time when I freaked out about something and said we were going home to America. He took me into the kitchen (where the kids couldn't hear us) and he said, "Kellye, going home is like divorce. We're not going to do it, and so we're not going to say it. I don't want to hear it again." In many ways, that was a turning point for me. It made me dig my heels in and just determine to stay and to be content.

That's what great relationships do, isn't it? When the proverb says, "iron sharpens iron," it's talking about a relationship in which we make each other better. And that's what my relationship with Marc does--it makes me better. He sees the good in me when I don't. He sees my potential when I don't. When I am too tired and weak to be of much good to anybody, he steps in and holds me up until I can stand on my own. He prays for me. He tells me constantly that I am loved. He makes me laugh until I cry and make weird snorting sounds, and then he thinks that's cute. I ordered bread at the bakery yesterday, all in German, and if he had been here when I got home, he would have high-fived me. He is my cheerleader, my biggest supporter, my very best friend. I love him, certainly, but I also really, really like him. Blessings, blessings, blessings...everywhere I look.

Every once in a while, we get a remark that we should 'get a room,' not be vocal about our relationship, tone it down, etc. Nah. I think I'll take the Tim Tebow approach: any time I am given an opportunity to give Marc a 'shout-out,' I think I'll do it. Because in turn, I'm giving glory to God. Never in a million years would anyone have picked out Marc Hooks and Kellye Hodges for one another. And yet, a loving God had an incredible plan for our lives, one that we could not have imagined. When I look at Marc, at our marriage, our family, this incredible adventure we are on together--I know that only a good and loving God could have written this love story. I would not ever agree to be quiet about my love for God. And I will never stop praising Him for one of His very best gifts to me--Marc. Instead, I'll just let the ultimate Author continue to write our love story.

Well, finally--someone is up at my house besides me! I've already made the maple syrup, so now it's time to make the French toast to go with it. We're looking forward to talking to our home church in Florida this evening--can't wait to tell all about life in Austria! Wherever you are in the world, I pray that the God who loves you so is also writing a great love story in your life, and that you are talking to folks at home today, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,

Kellye

A few of my favorite things

The cross standing at the site of church ruins in Purgg-Trautenfels, Austria

This was the view from our hotel. C'mon. That's just ridiculous.

The beautiful town of Purgg, Austria, which kindly opened its doors to us during its Christmas market on Saturday. This is from the grounds of the Johanneskapelle--John's chapel--famous for its well-preserved 12th century frescoes.

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; from where shall my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth. Psalm 121:1-2

You knew, of course, that eventually there would be a Sound of Music reference, right? Because I LOVE that musical, and here I am in Austria, where it is set. Eventually, I had to do it. It seemed the right time. We went exploring over Thanksgiving the part of Austria in which the story of The Sound of Music takes place, and where, of course, the von Trapp family actually lived. We were outside of Salzburg about 45 minutes, wandering around the Austrian Alps. Not a bad gig, if you can get it.

Thanksgiving was good. It wasn't traditional, by any means, but it was good. With no cooking to worry about, no preparations to make, I actually found time to be very thankful. I teared up only once, and that was when I was wandering around a Christmas market and stumbled upon a booth of quilts and quilted ornaments, which, of course, made me miss my Momma. I bought one. I bet you guessed that. We came away with an incredible appreciation not just for the gorgeous setting of Austria--honestly, it's beautiful beyond my ability to put it into words--but also for the kindness and warmth of Austrians. Now, if Austria is the only place you've ever been, I'm betting they don't seem very warm and welcoming. But to those of us who have lived other places, they seem like they're practically throwing us a parade. There are times and incidents where I have thought, "Wow...that was rude," but generally, taken as a whole, Austrians are pretty wonderful.

It would be hard to pinpoint what my favorite part of the trip was. Of course, I loved the time with my boys, a little foretaste of what's coming in the not-too-distant future, when both Hannah and Sarah Beth are gone, living their own lives, and it'll just be me and the boys at home. John is genuinely interested and curious about the world, and he was fun to take places to explore. He also was flexible and spontaneous, something he definitely gets from his Daddy. :) I loved exploring a glacier with him, riding a cable car up a mountain, visiting a town nestled in the mountains for a Christmas market, visiting a castle...all were wonderful. But if I had to pinpoint my favorite moments of the trip, it would have to be the church.

We were at a castle, walking around, when we saw a small, brown sign. Brown signs in Europe mean really interesting stuff to see and learn about, so we decided to take a look. Over a sketchy-looking bridge and up a one-way road were church ruins from the 1530s. It was an evangelical church, one of the seven in the district, which covered a good section of Austria. The foundation is still standing, and you can see and imagine what was there, where the altar was, etc. But my favorite part was the "Bibel Wanderweg." You can only approach the ruins on foot, and on the path are signs...sort of like the stations of the cross in a Catholic church. They are verses of Scripture meant to make the reader reflect on the journey of faith. And though we certainly don't speak German fluently or even passably, it's amazingly easy to read. With just a rudimentary knowledge, you can definitely make out words and context helps with what you can't figure out on your own. So up we went, reflecting on what we read--all well-known verses. But the station right before we reached the ruins was, to me, one of those moments that I will likely never forget. For there, standing in the unimaginable beauty of the Austrian Alps, surrounded by silence and the memory of other, long-ago worshipers, I read the words that began this blog--I will lift my eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. Yep, standing there, gazing at the mountains, I found some of my favorite words in all the Bible. In a land that is not my own, in a time that I would have given my left arm to be with my whole family, in a place I didn't even plan on visiting, God left for me a little stone of remembrance. It isn't the beauty or the oddity of finding that verse or those ruins that so touched my heart. It was His utter and complete faithfulness to me. The hills were there long before I even knew where Austria was on a map. They will be there long after I am a mere memory. But God, the maker of heaven and earth, is forever. No matter where I am, He is already there. No matter what my situation, He already knows the outcome. There is nowhere I can go that is out of His reach, no matter how remote. Whether I'm in Middleburg, Florida, preparing Thanksgiving dinner for my family or high in the Austrian Alps looking at church ruins, He is my constant companion. This journey, this adventure that we've been allowed to be a part of is sometimes lots of fun and sometimes really awful. But the One who called us to it is always the same--faithful, compassionate, merciful, loving.

It was a good trip. I'm glad we went, and I'm betting we'll return eventually. But it was also good to come home to Vienna, to our cozy apartment, to the neighborhood we love. That, too, is one of my favorite things. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are celebrating all the ways God makes Himself known to you, and that the sun is rising in particularly glorious fashion where you are, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Lessons learned

Hannah--our middle pancake is turning out pretty well. :)

John--his sweetness makes me smile.

"No weapon that is formed against you will prosper; and every tongue that accuses you in judgment you will condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their vindication is from Me," declares the LORD. Isaiah 54:17

I'm missing a picture of Sarah Beth here, because my photos have been wiped clean in a purge of my hard drive, and I don't know where Marc has put them. But imagine a cute picture of her up there, too, with a comment about how proud I am of the person she has become. You get the idea. If you know me at all, and even if you only know me through this blog, you know that I am crazy about my kids. Interestingly, I didn't think I wanted children until I met Marc. I couldn't picture myself as being a loving Mom, sacrificing for my children. It just didn't seem to fit with what I knew about myself. But then I met Marc, fell in love, and realized that my own capacity to love was much, much deeper than I'd imagined. And then Sarah Beth, Han and John showed up on the scene, and my capacity to love them turned out to be unlimited. I like them. I love them. I'm proud of them. I pray for them constantly. They are central to everything about my life. Along with Marc, they are some of God's very best gifts to me--in a life filled with God's good gifts.

I've told the story many times of Hannah's struggles when we moved to Russia. It was a difficult time for all of us, but especially for her. But we learned some things as a family during that time that God is continuing to use in our lives today. For me, it firmed up and clarified exactly what I want my children to take away from their experience overseas, living in a land that is not their own and shining Christ's light in the darkness. As Han has faced a couple of very hard, discouraging weeks, those lessons have proved essential to keeping her as encouraged as possible. I think they are universal lessons from which anyone can benefit, so I thought I'd share them with you.

Lesson one: Trouble will come. If you are human and breathing, you will have trouble. It's what you do with the trouble that shows the world what and who you really are. And if you're a believer, Jesus pretty much promised that you would be hated for His name's sake. But He also told us to take heart, because He has overcome the world. Don't panic when trouble comes. As the last weeks have played out and Han has struggled, I have pictured her burrowing further into the Father's lap, cushioned from the world by the One who loves her best. And that has been a comfort for me, because what I WANT to do is kick some bottoms and take names on her behalf. :)

Lesson two: You cannot control what others do or do not do. This is a hard one for me. I want people to act toward my children how I think they should act. And that isn't just the people who are making life difficult. It's also the people who should (in my opinion) be encouraging her and lifting her up--but aren't. But I have no control over that, and neither does she. What we have control over is pretty limited. We have control over how we act, how we look at things, how we love others. And we have control over whether we choose to believe that Jesus is exactly who He says He is. We've told our kids a thousand times: people will disappoint you. Jesus NEVER will. Trust Him and choose to love others in spite of themselves.

Lesson three: Surround yourself with real friendships. Sarah Beth and I have been talking lately about what real friendship looks like. It always builds up, always loves, is always excited for the good in the other person's life, is always sad for the other person when sadness comes their way. I have been blessed with some incredible friendships in my life, women with whom I have a close bond and to whom I can turn in times of joy or sorrow. Some of them are also living overseas. Some of them are in the States. But they are true friendships that sustain me, gifts from God that I rejoice over. My children have those same relationships. Some here. Some there. But they are a source of great encouragement and worth the investment of time and energy they take to build.

Lesson four: Make much of Jesus. Paul said that he considered momentary troubles nothing in comparison to the joy of knowing Jesus. As we continue as a family to grow in our knowledge of who He is and how He created us to live in Him, it is impossible to do anything but love Him more. Trials will come. People will hate us for His name's sake. Persecution will follow us. But we are never alone. If every friend leaves us, we are not alone. If our enemy seems to win the battle, we are not alone. He is everything. Knowing Him...it's beyond my capacity for words to explain the joy that comes from knowing Him and His mercy and compassion and deep love for us. This incredible adventure we have been called to live is not about us. Not even for a second is it about us. It's about Him. All of it--the joy, the happiness, the fun, the sorrow, the fear, the hurt--it's all about Him and for Him. We want to make much of Jesus.

Well, it seems that no matter how long I sit at my kitchen table, it isn't going to make the sun come out, so I guess it's time to get going. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are rejoicing in your momentary troubles because you know you are never alone, and that you are looking forward to attending a school play tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Holding up our candles

For the beauty of the earth...our new country is incredibly beautiful.

And I set my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and folly; I realized that this is also striving after wind. Ecclesiastes 1:17

It is a dreary, foggy morning in Vienna, Austria, and I am enjoying a cup of tea and peanut butter breakfast bars I made the kids for breakfast. Marc is home, but his day is full of meetings on skype, so I'm trying to be quiet. The great thing about getting up so early is that it is 8:30, and my chores for the day are already done. (It's bathroom and laundry day--it's good to have a schedule.) So I thought I'd sit and write for a few minutes before moving on to the next part of my day.

I am having some problems with shooting pain in my big toe and the bone right under it, so I've been a little less active in the last 24 hours. It didn't keep me from walking yesterday, and it won't today, either, but going up and down the stairs is pretty painful. (This happens about once every six months, and it will go away on its own. No big deal--just painful.) After I finished my walk yesterday, I realized that I wasn't going to get much else done around the apartment (I'd already swept and mopped all my floors and folded and ironed clean laundry), so I decided to read some more of The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom. Hannah is reading it in English, and I like to keep up with what she is reading so that if she has questions, I've read it recently and can be helpful. I also just love to read, so it makes a good excuse. :) So I propped up my throbbing foot, and I read and read. What an amazing story of faith and forgiveness and hands-and-feet Christianity. The ten Booms didn't just talk about being Christians. They lived it. They were it. One of the hardest parts of the book for me is when she asks the pastor to take in a small Jewish baby and he refuses. He is unwilling to put his family in danger for the sake of a baby. Kills me every time.

I'm also reading Ecclesiastes, because Hannah has a paper due on it next week, and I haven't read it in a while. I'd forgotten what a really amazing read it is--the king who asked God for wisdom realizes that wisdom is folly. That everything is 'striving after wind.' As an English teacher, I love the circle imagery, the idea of the wind coming around and around, of there being 'nothing new under the sun.' It always tickles me that people think that quote is from Shakespeare, but it's actually from Solomon. Hannah told me this morning that the book makes her sad for Solomon, who chased after many things--and women--in his lifetime, only to realize that it is in striving after God that true meaning comes to a life. It's really some of the best writing out there--not just in the Bible. It's worth your time if you haven't read it in a while.

Interesting to me how these two things she's reading really mesh with one another. The ten Booms were definitely not striving after wind when they hid so many in their own home and helped countless others find safety elsewhere. Their lives counted for something--even in the loss of their lives. I think Solomon would have thought that they sought after the things that really mattered, even when the world disagreed with them. Their lives shone as a light in the unbelievable darkness of World War II. They still shine in the darkness, many years later.

We've been talking a lot in our family of late about what happens when good rubs up against evil, when the light shines in the darkest of places. Evil does not willingly step aside, does not tip its hat and move out of the way like a gentleman. No. It fights and claws and screams and rages against the light. But here's the thing that we've been stressing with our kids--the darkness never wins. It might look like it does. It might seem like the light loses battles every day. But we know the truth. And if our God is who He says He is--and we have tested and proved Him to be the ultimate promise keeper--then the battle is already won. It's hard to look at things that go on around us and keep that in mind some days, but it's true. The darkness trembles in the face of the Light of the world. And while it may seem to us that we are only holding a tiny candle in the overwhelming sea of darkness around us, when those tiny candles come together, they light the whole world. We have seen and testify to you that Jesus is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. That's good news in a dark world, isn't it?

So we march on, holding our little candles, loving people, loving each other, and ceasing to strive after wind. And we know that the Light of the whole world, who loves everyone, with no exceptions, continues--day by day, minute by minute--to keep our tiny candles lit. I can think of nothing in the world for which I am so thankful in this season of thanksgiving. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are holding your candle aloft in your part of the darkness, and that you have a big bottle of ibuprofen to take care of the pain in your foot, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Wherever you are...

The zipline near our apartment--this represents John's total approach to life: put your head back and just throw yourself full-tilt into everything you do.

Vienna does not lack for beauty. This is an amphitheater on the Danube near our apartment.

Wherever you are--be all there. Jim Elliot

Sooo...if you keep up with us on facebook, you already know this. I'm kind of blue. Not depressed, not paralyzed by sadness...just blue. Hannah calls it mopey, and she's feeling it, too. Some of it has to do with the weather--it's been really gray this week, and it's harder on the soul than you might think if you're living in the Florida sunshine, soaking up all the vitamin D you could possibly want. So that's some of it, for sure. And some of it is the approaching holidays. Hannah will be in London for Thanksgiving on a school trip, and we've decided to take John out of town. I cannot express to you the ways in which I am dreading Thanksgiving and Christmas without Sarah Beth. Just sitting here typing the words is making me weep. Not tear up. Weep. Part of the price of having a family as close to one another as ours is that separation is very difficult. I miss her desperately, miss looking forward to her breaks and her being home. So definitely, the upcoming holidays are bearing down on my soul in a way that is making the blue a little deeper. But I have seen this particular blue before, know its parts, recognize it for what it really is: culture shock.

Culture shock is one of the most dreaded aspects of life overseas. They try really hard to prepare you for it in training, they warn you about it, but until you've experienced it (and in our case, lived through it), there really isn't anything anyone can do for you except help you to know what it is and give you some tools to deal with it. And it probably doesn't look like you might think it would. Hannah and I decided this morning that it's like slogging your way through pudding...and not getting anywhere. It's loneliness and isolation and feeling like you are not up to the task in front of you. It has nothing to do with whether or not you like where you are, by the way. Vienna could not be a more beautiful place. Austrians have been very kind and welcoming to us. This has nothing to do with Vienna. It has to do with us, with our hearts, with where we are. And so, it's time to confess something aloud.

I didn't want to come to Vienna.

It's a beautiful place. Who doesn't know that Austria is gorgeous? But it's not Russia. And I wanted to go home to Moscow. When it changed to Kiev, I was okay with that, too, because I know Kiev, have been there several times, and speak the language. I love Kiev. I get Kiev. So when it became clear to us that we would not be returning to a Russian-speaking place, I was distressed. I masked it okay. I got excited about Austria. I felt my family's happiness about Austria (my extended family), and I got onboard. Yep. Not going back to Russia is probably a blessing. It'll be better and easier for the kids. These are the things we tell ourselves and others as we try to deal with NOT going where we wanted to go. And when we got here, I really tried. It's gorgeous. It's easy to navigate. We love our neighborhood. We love the school. We love our apartment. All of these things are true. None of them are things I made up but didn't mean. But here is how each of these sentences ended in my head: but it's not home. It's not Russia.

Here's the thing: Russia was hard, certainly. In every way, it was difficult. But I figured it out. I know how to be there. I know how to exist there. I know the language--well, at least sort of. I understand the weather. And here's the flip side to that coin: I am known there. Some of the closest people to us in the world are living in Moscow right now. Friendships we hold close and dear. People who are not work, because they know us and love us in spite of ourselves. And here is the moment in which this became crystal clear to me: during a team retreat, as we went over the results of our personality tests and mine came out as administrative--different from everyone else--I remarked, "Is this a shock to anyone?" And you know what? It WAS a shock to everyone except Marc. And in that moment, I knew something that had not really occurred to me: they don't know me at all. That isn't their fault--we haven't really had the chance to know one another. It doesn't mean they won't ever know me. But at this moment in time, I live in a place where the only people who truly know and understand me are living in the apartment with me. And I'm going to be honest--that is about the loneliest feeling I have ever experienced in my life. And so the blues started, and so they have continued. Because even an introvert like me longs to be known and loved. And I am loved. Don't take away from this that I'm not. But I'm not known.

So what do we do about this? Well, we recognize it for what it is. And because we've already experienced this elsewhere, we know that, as Marc reminded us this morning, it ends. This will be a distant memory at some point, one we laugh about and are grateful to be done with as we roll along in the life God has chosen for us. In the meantime, we try to be all here. I cannot get over culture shock if I have one foot in Vienna and one in Moscow. Not possible to do that. So Marc took me out yesterday, exploring the city and talking over what we can do to feel better. Language is a big part of that. We don't have much in terms of funds to take language, but we will have to find a way to study German. And I have to figure out what ministry I am called to here outside of my husband and kids. Perhaps hardest for me--I have to relax. It'll pass. This will be home some day. I will open my mouth and something German will come out, instead of the Gerssian I currently speak. I have to trust that God didn't bring me here to long for someplace else. But while I'm waiting for this to be home, I must firmly plant my feet in this city, with these people, with this school and enjoy the front row seat for the working of the God of the Universe in my life and the life of my family and the life of this beautiful city. I have to bloom where I'm planted, and for this season, I'm planted in Vienna.

I have a fun afternoon planned, so it's off to do laundry and some other writing before it's time for that. We are getting haircuts--praise the LORD!--and then we're taking the kids downtown to the Christmas market outside of the Vienna Rathaus (city hall?) and then to a gourmet meal at McDonald's. Hannah requested some family time to help her slog through the pudding, and Marc and I were more than happy to say yes to that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are being all there, and that you are looking forward to some family time, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Every season

There is no way not to think this is a gorgeous place. This is the church we see on our normal walking route. Ridiculously beautiful.

Sweet John in front of some pretty leaves. Love this boy!

Hannah doing what she does about 99% of the time--smiling. So blessed to be her mom!

Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. I Corinthians 10:31

I have a few quiet moments between mopping my floors and doing more laundry, so I thought I'd get some writing done. This particular blog is in answer to some private questions I've gotten, most of which have been centered around a curiosity about what our life here is really like. So I thought I'd give you a little glimpse of a normal day.

Every day begins for me by 5 a.m. If you've read this for a while or know me at all, you know that sleep is not always my friend, so I try to sleep until 5, but never later. I have to have complete quiet to start my day, and that's impossible with children roaming around. So I'm up by 5, and I have coffee and time for Bible study and prayer, which I finish about 6:25. I get Han up about 6, and my new favorite thing in the morning is that she does her quiet time at the table with me. We're not talking or even watching one another, but as a Momma...it's pretty sweet to have her sit next to me while she studies and prays. Just one more blessing in a life full of blessings. About 6:30, I get Marc up, and I start breakfast. My kids always eat a hot breakfast before school. Usually, we eat some kind of eggs--studies have shown that kids with ADHD benefit from protein in the morning. So we eat breakfast, and then it's all about getting the kids out the door and on their way to school by 7:45. They walk together, and we don't have to take them anymore. Sometimes, I go in the afternoon to get John, but we are starting to let them come home together. It takes them about 25 minutes to get to school via public transportation. That may sound like a lot to you, but it sounds like heaven to us. It took much longer than that in Moscow.

Once they're gone, the day rolls on. There is always cleaning to be done. There are some general rules here (that I've set for myself)--the kitchen must remain clean all the time. In other words, I don't let stuff stack up. My kitchen is small with very limited counter space and a European sink (think about half the size of yours in America), so dishes have to be done if the next meal is going to be prepared. Trash is another thing that has to be taken care of every morning. I also usually sweep the floors every day--that may change, though. We're looking at getting more rugs, and I'll probably buy a vacuum, which will cut down on the sweeping. Or I hope it will. Every day, I have a different thing that I concentrate on. Wednesdays, I always clean the bathrooms. We have two, and if they get too dirty, it doubles my work. Better to give it a good cleaning every week. I mop the floors on Mondays, trying to get rid of the grime from the weekend, and sometimes on Fridays, too. The kids' rooms are generally picked up all the time, and our room, too. I can't live in chaos, and neither can anyone else in the family. And, of course, every day has at least one meal that is homecooked--usually supper. (I don't count breakfast---scrambling some eggs is not exactly a feat.) Generally, Marc and I eat a roll and cheese or something similar for lunch. Not a lot of work in that. And the kids take their lunch to school--often leftovers from supper. But supper takes some preparation and thought, mostly because I have to get the groceries to make it. Sometimes, I don't plan well or I forget how long something takes. For example, I made chicken quesadillas the other night, forgetting that it takes FOREVER--2 1/2 hours later, we finally sat down to eat. YIKES!

So what do I do besides clean? I am caught up right now in trying to get the apartment set up. Everything feels temporary while we wait to buy some more furniture. I have things to attend--team retreat last week, a ladies brunch yesterday morning, coffee with colleagues, events at school. I am taking over the finance reports and other paperwork from Marc, and that is a much bigger job than I planned. And eventually, I will have ministry of my own, though at this point, I have no idea what that's going to look like. I read. I write. I encourage Marc and watch different pieces or talk through things he's working on with him. When my kids get home, I help them with homework and spend time with them, often trying to find some kind of family thing to do at night--family movie night, family game night, etc. With Sarah Beth out of our home, the truth that time flies has been made real, and I am trying to soak up every single second with the kids--because tomorrow, they'll be gone. And this--being Sarah Beth, Hannah, and John's Momma and Marc's wife--this is the stuff that matters, that has eternal significance. This is the stuff I really want to do well. If there are dust bunnies in the corner, that will bother me. But if my children grow up without knowing how important and loved they are...then I will have failed. And I'm not interested in failing at anything.

If you know me in my other life, I bet this life surprises you. You've always known me as the girl who gets up at 4:30, goes to work, teaches all day and loves it. How is it possible to be so happy and content in this life that is so different from that one, in which I was also quite happy and content? As I grow older, I realize that life is made up of so many seasons. I was a young wife, then a young wife and mother, a young teacher, a more experienced teacher, and now I'm in this phase--living overseas, being a housewife, loving and taking care of my family, but definitely in a more behind-the-scenes role than I've had in the past. But in each of these seasons, I have been overwhelmed by the blessings of the season. What is better than young, snuggly children? What is better than being a newlywed? Well, at this stage of my life, having a close relationship with my adult child and with my teen and preteen is pretty wonderful. Having a mature, comfortable relationship with the person I love most in the world, experiencing this incredible adventure with him as our love just gets deeper and deeper...pretty great. When I sit and really ponder my life, really think about the different things I've been allowed to do, I am humbled and grateful. What a blessing to have been allowed into the lives of thousands of teenagers, people I have loved and continue to love and pray for. And what a blessing to be living in this beautiful country, encouraging and supporting the incredible people God has entrusted to me. Blessings all mine, my friends. Our God is so good.

Well, the washing machine has stopped, which means it's time to hang the laundry. Wherever you are in the world, I challenge you to look over the course of your life and see the joy you've been so graciously given, and I hope that the new recipe you're trying tonight goes well, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Why being a good girl is not enough

The view from the front of the apartment--from my sunroom. :)

The other side of my kitchen. That's the window I stand at to pray for my neighborhood--my tradition since I've been overseas.

The dining room from the terrace--lots of work to do in here still, but I think it's a really nice space.

But know this: God will not be tolerated. He instructs us to worship and fear Him. --Francis Chan, Crazy Love

I know, I know--no blogs for three weeks, then two in two days. What's that about? It probably has a great deal to do with the quiet in the apartment and a sick boy who has been inside for two days. He was better yesterday morning, then started running a tiny fever again last night. Hoping this morning he wakes up feeling all better. I ended up falling asleep on the couch while I tried to stay up for the World Series, only to awaken this morning and discover that the Cards had--literally--knocked it out of the ballpark. Sorry to all my Rangers friends--you seem like lovely people, but I grew up on Cardinals baseball right outside of St. Louis, so my loyalties are pretty clear. I'm also a huge Albert Pujols fan--both of his playing and his personal testimony. How can you not love him? Don't answer that, Texas friends. I'm betting he's not your fave right now.

I'm reading Crazy Love, by Francis Chan--a book I found when we unpacked boxes from Prague. Sarah Beth read it with a group of girls and two of her "aunts" here on the field, and she really seemed to enjoy it, so I picked it up. I've found it to be pretty challenging, not in terms of the reading level, but just the ideas he puts forward. I'm enjoying it. It's fitting nicely with my study of Romans, which will probably take me at least the next six months to complete. I like that, though...the long study of a specific book. Personally, it gives the words time to really write themselves on my heart, to get past the academic, analytical part of me and find their way into my life. I studied Acts for about 16 months, and I found it a really worthwhile endeavor. If you're interested in how I study a particular book, send me a message. I do it on my own--I don't have a study guide. Anyway, this morning I was working through a word study of chapters 1-5, and I came across what is, at least for me, one of the most profound statements in the Bible: But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8) That has long been a favorite verse--we used to sing a song in choir that was based on it, and I always loved the song. But as I read it this morning, I could not help but think my way through my own journey of faith and how I came to this point in my life. Because to a great extent, that verse, that realization that God loved me in spite of my sin, was a life-changer for me.

Maybe you are new to my life or to my story, and you don't know my background. Or maybe you are one of those folks who knew me way back when, but you haven't had any contact with me in a while. In either case, it's a story, I think, worth telling. Raised in a Christian home, I came to believe in Christ for myself at a young age. I did all the good Christian girl stuff. I went to a Christian college. I met and married a nice Christian boy. I became a nice Christian teacher. We had nice Christian babies. We lived a nice life--active in church, happy marriage, good kids. Oh, we hit the bumps in the road that lots of people do--bumps in our marriage, bumps in raising our kids. But we were content with our lives. We felt good about who we were. We lived lives that--from the outside--were totally given to our God, to each other, to our family. Who could quibble with that? Isn't that what God wants?

But we hit a BIG bump--not in our marriage, but in relationships that had become, for us at least, a kind of life raft. When we had problems, all we could think of was how blessed we were to have Christian friends to whom we could turn. (If this were a scary movie, here is where the ominous music would start playing.) Do you see the theological issue with that? It jumps off the screen at me--we turned to our friends, not to our God. But suddenly, through a series of events that are no longer important, we found ourselves pretty much alone. We couldn't fix our situation. Others watched and tried to help, but couldn't. It was terrible. Awful. I spent many hours on the floor, literally crying out to God. And that's when things took a turn in my life. That's when I became unsettled and less than okay with just being a nice Christian girl. Because in the midst of my rough seas, God showed Himself to me. Oh, not literally--because that would have really freaked me out. But He showed me who He is, and who I am in relation to His glory. And I can assure you of this--once you see that clearly, being a nice Christian girl is no longer enough.

You know what He didn't do? He didn't assure me that I was right and others were wrong or that they were right and I was wrong. It turns out, He wasn't really interested in what seemed like such an earth-shattering situation at all. What He showed me through His word and through a time--really the first in my life--of my just listening to and for Him was amazing. He didn't want me to be a good Christian girl. He wasn't amazed by my singing or by my teaching or by anything else I could do for Him. What He was interested in was my everything. Not a section of my life or my heart--everything. Every single bit of myself--He wanted it all. Not even just the nice parts, the parts I showed others. He wanted the parts that were bitter and angry and wanted revenge. And when I asked Him to, He took those parts and washed them clean. That awful situation? No longer important. How others viewed me? Not a big deal. Singing every Sunday? Not a make or break thing anymore. Being like other women on the field? Not my role. The God of Everything, Creator of the Universe, Master of my life--even before time began loved me with an irrational, overwhelming, persistent love. A love that would send His Son to the cross and see Him raised three days later...for me. Suddenly, all my efforts at being good seemed really flat and embarrassing. Good mother, good teacher, good wife, good daughter...not really so amazing, after all.

I sit at my kitchen table every morning with my Bible and journal, and I study and pray and write. And while those things are important, they aren't the amazing thing about my mornings. The amazing thing is that the God who created the universe chooses to meet me here. He comes and sits with me as I worship Him, praise Him, adore Him, implore Him. He sent His Son to die for me. When I really understood that, I couldn't get over it. I'll never get over it. Me. He loves me. Not what I can do. Not how well I can analyze a poem. Not how well I bake or clean or any of the other things I'm responsible for here. Nope. Just me. And that, my friends, impacts every single things about my life. How much I love Marc, what kind of mother I am, what kind of friend I am, what kind of Christian I am. It transformed my marriage from a good, solid marriage to the most incredible relationship in my life. Out of a full devotion to God comes a complete realization of His goodness to me, and having Marc is a big part of that goodness. He loved me enough to give me Marc. I cannot get over that kind of love. It is no longer sufficient to be a good Christian girl. My prayer is to have an unreasonable love for others that springs out of my love for God. I have been saved, not only from an eternity of separation from God, but to an incredible life here on earth with God. My joy and amazement and awe overwhelm me. Give Him my life? In the face of that kind of love, how could I do less?

So that's my story. God saved me from the life I had made for myself into the incredible life that He made for me. And yes, sometimes that life is hard and involves sacrifice. But the life He created me for and called me to is so full of absolute joy that anything else, an easier life--it's just not very appealing. So here's my challenge to you--what did God create you for and call you to do? Are you doing it? Have you ever asked Him? I promise that what He designed and planned just for you is so incredible, so full of joy and unreasonable contentment, that it's worth looking a little crazy to the world as you pursue it. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are pursuing more than mere Christianity, and that your husband is headed home to you, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Overwhelmed

The sun rise as seen from our terrace. The tall thing in the distance is a church clock tower. This is looking out the back of our apartment.

My kitchen, or at least one side of it. It's small, but it has a really good amount of storage space. And yes, those are homemade biscuits waiting to go in the oven.

The living room. We're getting there, but we obviously don't have anything on the walls, yet. It's a cozy space.

As the deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for You, O God. Psalm 42:1

We arrived in Vienna three weeks ago today. It seems like it was yesterday, but it also seems like we've been here a long time. Our transition into a new city has gone pretty well, with only a few bumps in the road. Everyone is adjusting to a new life here, making new friends, meeting new neighbors, navigating a new neighborhood. After what seemed like forever in limbo, waiting for official word from the company about when and where we would be serving, it's good to be doing something, to feel like we are moving in the right direction.

It's quiet this morning. Marc is in Prague for a meeting, Hannah just left for the Alps with a friend's family from school, and John is sick and still asleep. (It's nothing serious--sore throat and headache and a fever, but enough for him to be pretty lethargic.) So I have some time to contemplate and be quiet and catch you up on what has been happening since we arrived. It's a gorgeous morning here, and I'm especially enjoying the sunlight streaming through all the windows in the apartment--and there are MANY windows.

I don't know that I have anything particularly profound to say about our arrival. It was wonderful. Our team made us feel like they were very happy to have us back. The Vienna City team has made us feel very, very welcome. We love the kids' school. There are ministry opportunities there. We like the church we've been attending. The city is incredibly beautiful, easy to navigate, and full of really friendly people (at least in our neighborhood--we've not experienced a lot outside of our little spot). We live a few blocks from the United Nations, and I hear several different languages taking the kids to and from school every day. Our next door neighbors are from Nepal and speak fluent English and are very, very nice. We are slowly getting to know our neighborhood, walking a different section each night, making our way around. Our apartment is about two blocks from the Danube River, and there are lots of things to do there. If you can't tell, we really, REALLY love our neighborhood. There are some things that have been hard--a new language, fitting in at a new school, feeling like we live in a giant's garage sale (smile...the chaos of totally furnishing and putting together a new place was more than we bargained for)...but, generally speaking, we are happy. We're content. This is where we're supposed to be at this moment in time.

But I didn't want to come here. I wanted to go back to Moscow. Our love for that city and for Russians isn't exactly a secret. Talk to us and you'll find that we are passionate, intense, and maybe a little obsessed with Russia and Russians. I listen intently for Slavic languages on the bus and ubahn (the metro system in Vienna). I look at faces and try to see if they have Slavic features. Russia is home. It is my heart. So why am I so happy in Austria? Because God is good and faithful and clear to direct our lives when we ask. Because while I am passionate about Russia and Russians, my prayer is that God would continue to break me apart for the lost people I meet on a daily basis. Not just Russians. Not just Slavs. Everyone. Every single person without the hope of Jesus Christ in their lives.

And so I'm content to be here, where God has clearly directed us for this season. I am thrilled with my apartment, with my kids' school, with the possibilities for ministry that I see in front of me. I will continue to walk the streets of my neighborhood, making relationships and praying for those I meet. I will continue to stand at my kitchen window and pray for the neighborhood in which God has placed me...a tradition born out of my desperate unhappiness when we first arrived in Moscow. Above all, I will continue to be thankful for my incredibly faithful God, who has so proven His love for me and mine, His absolute faithfulness on our behalf, that I can be content to sit in the center of His plan for my life...no matter where in the world that plan leads me.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are overwhelmed by the goodness of God, by His faithfulness and trustworthiness, and that you are looking forward to watching College Gameday on ESPN America this afternoon, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

How can I say thanks?

What words would be sufficient to describe this moment? None.

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always offering prayer with joy in my every prayer for you all, in view of your participation in the gospel from the first day until now. Philippians 1: 3-5

We're down to hours. Hours. After months of medical issues, months of not knowing when we would be going or where, months in limbo--we are down to hours. How faithful is our God? How big is He in the face of obstacles? He's certainly bigger and more faithful than I can put into mere words. And all of His faithfulness was celebrated last evening at a service held by our church. While there is no way to describe the service or adequately explain what it meant to us, I'm going to give it at least a try, because I think it highlights what God can do when given a chance.

Sometimes, it's easy to think of the church as a place. We often say that we live on the church grounds. We talk about the building as the church. But that isn't the church at all. The church is a community of people who choose to have faith in God. The church isn't Southern Baptist or Methodist or Catholic--the church is all who choose to believe in Christ and in His grace and mercy and compassion. It's easy to become frustrated with the church, because people sometimes act kind of awful. If you've been in church--or around human beings at all--you know that we can be pretty horrid, collectively. And it's easy to grumble and get caught up in that. But the church continues to be beloved by Christ. He gave His life for the church. And He commands us to love the church as well. Remember all that "love the brethren" business? Yep. It's the church being discussed in all those passages. And I don't think that's happenstance or coincidence, because I am pretty sure God knows how terrible we can be, given half a chance. So He demands that we love one another. After all, why would anyone want what we have if all they see is squabbling, fighting and back-stabbing? They wouldn't. And that's why a lot of people aren't buying what we're selling, because that IS all they see. But last night was one of those nights in which the church--as God intended it to--showed up and loved one another.

It's not easy to leave. It really isn't. I don't have mixed feelings, I don't have doubts or even worries (okay, maybe about actually getting the bags completely packed, but not about anything real), but I'm going to be sad to leave people. I'm going to have to say goodbye to my sister this morning. I don't want to do that. Tomorrow I will say goodbye to my beloved parents. Don't want to do that, either. And, of course, I will have to wave goodbye to my precious child. I can't even fathom that, yet. I don't even completely understand what that is even going to look like. My children, who absolutely adore one another, will have to be separated. It's horrible. I came in last night to find the girls sitting together, arms around one another. My children are close. They love one another deeply. Tomorrow is going to be rough. It's going to be hard. And there isn't any way to lessen that pain. But we'll get through it, and we'll all live the lives God has called us to live.

So what does that have to do with last night? Everything. You know what makes it easier to leave? I know that my church loves us. I know that they will take care of my parents. I know that they will love Sarah Beth. I know that her church in Arkansas will continue to wrap their arms around her as she returns. I know that her school, which has so many MKs attending, will continue to take care of our girl. None of what happens tomorrow can be done without those faithful prayers that will go out on our behalf. None of it. Like David's mighty men, those who showed up to fight, we have our own mighty men and women. You have carried us through dark times before with your prayers, and you will carry us through the dark days that are sure to come. You have faithfully lifted us up, and you will continue to do so. I know, because I have felt your faithfulness. I have felt your prayers. And I will feel them again. And there is great comfort in that.

And so, while 'thank you' feels and sounds so inadequate, it's all I have. Thank you. Thank you for loving us. Thank you for giving us a place to live and cars to drive. Thank you for writing recommendations for us. Thank you for loving our kids. Thank you for challenging us to be the people God intended us to be. Thank you for throwing us an Australian themed goodbye party and making us laugh. (And for the cake, which was DELICIOUS!!) Thank you for lining up to pray over us last night. Thank you for knowing how much I love Mary Engelbreit and Sharpie pens and bringing me gift bags full of them. Thank you for knowing me and thinking about me and remembering me. Thank you for holding up our arms when we can't possibly do it ourselves. Thank you for showing up and loving my family. We smile upon every remembrance of you. We really, really do.

It's time to do the final re-packing. Pray for us tomorrow. It will be a pretty hard day. But you know what? It'll be a joyful day, too. God has called, and we've been allowed to follow that call in a pretty awesome way. We love our life overseas. We love our friends and colleagues there. And we know that what God has for us there, while it may not be easy, will continue to be a front-row seat for His spectacular, awe-inspiring love for the nations. That's not a bad gig, is it? Wherever you are in the world, I pray you are thankful beyond words for the love that permeates your life, and that your bags are not going to have to be unpacked and repacked today. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Being consumed by God's fire

Our Sarah Beth...unbelievable to me that she's grown up!

Hannah on the cruise we took to the Bahamas this summer. We had such a good time!

John John at one of the churches we spoke at this summer. And yes, that is a Russian flag stuck in his hair. I've found it's better not to ask.

Therefore, since we receive a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us show gratitude, by which we may offer to God an acceptable service with reverence and awe; for our God is a consuming fire. Hebrews 12:28-29

I know, I know. It's been a while. Too long, really. I've gotten some little reminders from several of you that it might be nice if I posted something. It's just that American life seems very busy, but I don't always have a lot to say about it. But of course, American life is coming to a close for me very quickly, at least for a while. In nine days, we leave for Austria, for a life we know but don't know, a place that we call home but have never seen. Hopefully, I'll have more to say there and find the time to write about it.

We have just returned from our appointment week. If you're not Southern Baptist--maybe even if you are--appointment week is where they bring all the new m's to one city, have a bunch of meetings, interview them one last time, and then commission them to go into the world. It is exciting, exhausting, and exhilarating. (The alliteration is just a little shout out to my pastor, Alan Floyd. He's the KING of alliteration.) There isn't really any way I can describe it to you. It's a very personal time, a very intimate time with the Lord and with others who are like-minded, whose passion is to go into the Nations with Christ's love. There is a good bit of laughing, but there are also many sobering moments when you count the cost of what you're agreeing to do. It's one thing to sign my life away, to sign Marc's away...but it's entirely another to put the names of our children on that line. We counted the cost of that a long time ago, and we know for sure that serving God is worth whatever price we must pay, but it's never a bad idea to think it through one last time before we step on the plane.

I read the verse above on the morning that we were going to be interviewed by the trustees for Europe that evening. As I was preparing for that meeting, that last interview in a long line of interviews and paperwork, I started thinking about how God called me. I think it's a very hard thing to describe to someone God's call on your life, because it's such a personal thing. And particularly to those who aren't believers, it is difficult to explain without confusing them with church speak. And while we've told the story of telling each other we were called, I knew that what the trustees would ask would be about my personal call to go overseas. As I formulated that response (I was correct, by the way. They did ask this precise question.), I thought about God being a consuming fire. I thought about that time in my life, not an unhappy or discontent time, but a restless time, when I knew that there was MORE. I didn't know what MORE might be, but I knew God had something in mind for me, for my family that wasn't like other people. And that was a confusing thing for me, because I know me. I am not special. I am not extraordinary. I'm just an ordinary wife and mother. What would the great God of Everything want with me?

It turns out that what He wanted was every bit of my life, every iota of my being. I'm still ordinary in every conceivable way, but He is extraordinary. Given half a chance, He consumes those He loves and makes them MORE. His lovingkindness, His mercy and grace are inconceivable blessings showered on all who allow Him into their lives. And that isn't just for me and my family. That's for everyone who believes and follows Him. No matter what you've done. No matter how lousy you think you are. No matter what secrets are hiding in your closet. Grace and mercy and peace beyond comprehension are yours for the claiming. That's news good enough to share, don't you think? It's news that has so radically changed my life that I'm not just willing to give up everything to share it, I'm glad to do so.

And that's what I told the trustees. I have to be honest--I was nervous going into the meeting, but it was a really sweet time for us. It's a story I never tire of telling. It's a story that will sustain me through some dark days that I'm sure lie ahead. It's certainly a story that has kept me warm through the dark Russian winter. The great God of Everything has given me--Kellye Hooks from Middleburg, Florida--a front row seat for how He is working around the world. I'll never get over it. Never.

Well, it's time to pack some more. We are making some serious headway, but there is still much to be done. Plus, we have goodbyes left to say, and that is never fun. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are living in awe of God's goodness and mercy to you, and that you don't have to reduce your life to suitcases. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Changing the world--one light at a time

These are scenes from my amazing time at Camp Worldlight, a missions camp for girls run by the Florida Baptist Convention. I spent a week at Lake Yale as the missionary in residence.

See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception, according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary principles of the world, rather than according to Christ. Colossians 2:8

I need to issue two disclaimers before you read any further. First, I grew up Southern Baptist, which means I was a mission friend, a GA, and an Acteen. I have a deep belief in gender-specific missions education, deepened by my own experiences. Second, my oldest daughter, Sarah Beth, is a counselor at Camp Worldlight, and so I do not claim to be unbiased or objective about the camp. I'm not. I adore camp for many reasons, not the least of which is that it is having such an impact on my girl. If you can live with those things, read on!

I have many, many memories of GA camp at Windermere, the Baptist Assembly I grew up attending in Missouri. We also went to some kind of Sunday School training there--my parents were heavily involved for many years in Sunday School leadership--and I can very clearly remember riding the paddle boats with my Daddy. I can picture the cabins, the activities, the bugs, the scary storms that sometimes blew through...all are clear in my mind. But what is most clear is those young women who were my counselors. I cannot remember their names all these years later, but I can remember their faces, and I can certainly remember the impact they had on my life. Through Bible study, nature hikes, worship and late-night talks, they encouraged me to follow closely whatever it might turn out God had for my life. Whether I was to become a missionary, a teacher, a doctor, a nurse, or a housewife and mom made no difference--they told me clearly that God had a plan and purpose for my life, and that if I followed Him, my life would have meaning beyond my comprehension. I believed them, because I saw lived out in front of me what that kind of life meant. They were wonderful young women. They were loving and kind and funny and all about Jesus. And I didn't lack for female role models--beyond my many teachers and church workers, I also had my momma and my two older sisters. But there was something about those young women I saw only once a year, for a week in the summer, and the way they didn't change. They remained convinced that God had a special plan for them and for us, and they remained committed to living that out in front of us.

And that is what I loved so much about being Mrs. Kellye at Camp Worldlight this week--those beautiful, wonderful young women who have given their summer to influence girls for Christ. They are funny and silly, but also deeply committed to what Christ has for them and for the girls in their charge. They are loving but firm, and the girls are closely watched and cared for during their time at camp. It's made clear that there are rules to protect them from harm. We don't swim in the lake, because there are too many gators. (There really are. I saw them.) We follow the rules so that things run smoothly and everyone has a good time. We pray because God listens. We wear closed-toe shoes because the ants will eat us alive if we don't. We go to sleep because we want tomorrow to be just as good as today was. Wouldn't the world be a better place if ALL of our children had the opportunity to learn these things, instead of learning to throw a fit and get their way? And certainly, these are things parents should be teaching, but I can tell you from my own experience as a teacher that many parents are not teaching kids how to follow the rules. That's why parents call the school and complain when their kid is punished for something they did. They don't really believe in following the rules. Isn't it nice to know that somewhere out there, a place exists where the rules mean something? Where they are enforced?

But it isn't just that these beautiful young women are rule-enforcers that makes Camp Worldlight such an amazing place. It's also the unceasing focus on missions that makes it so special. Everything is about Christ, His purpose and plan for each girl, and about our responsibility to be involved in missions. Maybe you didn't grow up Southern Baptist. Maybe you are attending your very first Southern Baptist church, and they have some other kind of programming for children. But what makes us Southern Baptist is our belief that our greatest work as the church is missions--near and far, next door and across the ocean--and that together, we can do far more than we can do separately. That's why the Southern Baptist Convention's International Mission Board is the largest missions organization in the world. Our entire denomination is built around a foundation of going, telling, and making disciples. GAs and RAs teach that every week. And Camp Worldlight is all about missions. Ask a room full of IMB missionaries where and when they first thought about or made a commitment to be a missionary, and many, many of them will tell you it was at GA or RA camp. It's a place where girls can--without the distraction of boys--entertain the thought, maybe for the very first time, that God might be calling them to missions. Will they all become missionaries? Of course not. But some of them will. And Camp Worldlight will be the first step in that adventure.

I began by telling you I'm completely biased. And I am. I love GA camp. I loved it as a girl, I loved it when I was a camp counselor at Camp Nunny Cha-Ha in Oklahoma, and I love it as a missionary and as a mom. And I encourage you, if you have children who are the right age, to find a GA or RA camp where you live to send them to next summer. You will be amazed at what happens in their lives. In an age of Britney Spears and Lady Gaga filling girls' minds with who and what they are supposed to be, why wouldn't you want them to have a Brooklyn, an Amber, an Ellen, and yes, a Sarah Beth to speak God's truth into their lives? Why wouldn't you want a Mindy to show them that--just like on the high ropes--they are completely capable of doing anything God calls them to do? Why wouldn't you want them to see amazing women, like Anne, leading and being in charge? I can't think of a better gift to give girls. I honestly can't. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are giving your life to the only One who makes the moon reflect the sun, and that you, too, are headed to see the last Harry Potter movie this afternoon. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye