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