Being thankful...for a good book

This is the picture sitting on my desktop this morning. She's a keeper, for sure. :)

Glory to thee for all the grace
I have not tasted yet. --Charles Spurgeon

It's not been a great week. Wow. It's only Tuesday. Well, it's been a rough couple of days. How's that? Not one thing in particular--just a high stress level caused by many different things going on in our lives, both here in Vienna and back home in Florida. We've gotten a diagnosis for my Dad, but the first surgery (for his kidney) is looking like a much more major surgery than we'd originally hoped for because of the position of the tumor on his kidney. So that wasn't a plus. And he still feels so awful, which I cannot stand. Sarah Beth is in the middle of finals. Marc and I are getting ready for our German exam this Saturday, amidst a flood of other deadlines. And I had a little accident on Sunday that is causing pain and even less sleep than usual. (Note to self: sunburn + hot, steamy bath + fainting = large, painful egg on the back of my head.) We'll be fine...just a bit discouraged at the moment. Okay, maybe a lot discouraged at the moment. But we really will be fine. We serve a big God, right? If He is for us, who (or what) can be against us? :)

So I've been thinking about all the things and people God uses to encourage me during times like this--just being thankful and grateful for His new mercies each day. And there are a lot of things I could list here--dear, sweet friends who always are faithful to pray, sweet friendships that are developing with nationals here, the view off my balcony as the sun comes up, an apartment full of sunshine and light, even on cloudy days...you get the idea. Lots of stuff. But one of God's greatest gifts to me, one for which I am SO thankful right now, is my deep love affair with books.

It all started for me in the living room of my Aunt Angie and Uncle Raleigh's house in Doctor's Inlet, Florida, where I would visit in the summer as a child. It was lined on one wall with bookshelves. And I could read anything I wanted. I had books at home, of course, but there was something truly wonderful about a lazy, too-hot-to-be-outside Florida afternoon, sitting in that room and reading for hours. It was there I first discovered the wonder of true crime writing. (Yep, still love them. I have basically read every Ann Rule book in print.) I found that I loved mysteries (I've read every Mary Higgins Clark book) and history (I just finished a great bit of history this morning). In fact, I found that I basically loved everything I could get my hands on. (One thing I don't love--fantasy. Yuck. Not my cup of tea. I've never read all of Lord of the Rings or made it through one of the movies without falling asleep. Sorry. I just don't get it.) What I found during those wonderful summer afternoons spent reading was that books made great, wonderful companions and transported me to places and worlds that I could not have even dreamed of in my wildest fantasy. Pardon the pun, but I was hooked.

I went on, of course, to be an English teacher, spending my days teaching the books I loved so much. One of my favorite book memories is from early in my career, when I was teaching in a rural high school in Georgia. We didn't have enough copies of To Kill a Mockingbird for each student, and we could not ask students to buy them or buy more ourselves, so I ended up reading the whole book aloud to my classes. I even brought in a rocking chair to sit in while I read, and they often ended up sitting at my feet on the floor, just listening to the story. When we got to the part where Tom Robinson has been killed, one of my students yelled, "NO!!" Nobody laughed. Nobody made fun of her. We just kept reading. It was a meaningful moment for me and for the kids--certainly, that particular book made a great deal of sense to them, since it was written about a culture they knew and understood all too well. I went on to have other meaningful moments with books, but that one always sticks out in my mind as a defining moment in my teaching career.

I read constantly. I have at least one book "going" all the time. Sometimes I'm reading an actual book, but more often than not, I'm reading on my Kindle app or my Nook. As I get older, I tend to like nonfiction more than fiction, and I have an ever-growing appreciation for the classics I've loved for most of my adult life. I'm not always reading a classic or something meaningful, though. Sometimes (don't tell anyone, ok?) I just read for fun. I read to escape. I read because it makes me feel better about whatever thing I'm going through at the moment.

So what does that have to do with the discouragement we currently feel? Because books are a way for me to relieve tension and escape, and because they are salve to my introverted soul, they encourage me. They make me laugh or cry. They make me think. They help me to know and understand places and people better. I loved Russian literature long before I dreamed of living in Russia. (Dostoevsky is my favorite, in case you're wondering.) Reading about Austrian history, especially the history of Vienna, has helped me to have an appreciation for this place that God has us for this season. And sometimes, I just need to think about something else. Something that isn't this moment. I believe God created me to love books so that I would always have a way to turn my brain off and do something else, to remove myself from the stress of this moment so that I can refocus somewhere else. And at this moment, when I'm a teeny bit overwhelmed...I'm so, so grateful for that.

Maybe you think this is a crazy post, that I love books because I do. But God's Word clearly says that He is the Giver of all good gifts...and for me, books are a very good gift. So I choose to be thankful for them and for the stress relief they so often provide. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are grateful for whatever escape God has provided for you, and that your kids have the day off school, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Those who wait...

Are you tired of pics of my cats? Because I have an endless supply. This is Tash being cute, as usual.

I love this!! I don't know if you can see him behind the flowers, but this is our pal, Jack, giving Han flowers after the musical. If you've been with us awhile, you'll remember that Jack was 3-months-old when we lived in the same quad as his parents at our training in Richmond. Now, Hannah is his babysitter. Love it!!

 

Wait for the LORD; be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the LORD. Psalm 27:14

I generally avoid things at which I'm terrible. For example, I don't bowl. Why? I'm atrocious at bowling. TERRIBLE. So I just don't bowl. There are other things I don't do, too...ballroom dancing, for example. Or exercising in front of people with any kind of exercise that requires me to do more than put one foot in front of the other. (Get the idea? I'm not very coordinated.) I also avoid doing math without a calculator. Not good at it, so I don't do it.

But there are some things I'm not good at that I can't avoid. Waiting is one of those things. It seems like the last two years have been all about waiting. We had to wait to know where we were going. Then we had to wait to be approved by the trustees and doctors. Then we had to wait to get here. Then we had to wait to settle in and get through transition. In other words--just like every other person on earth--waiting is a big part of my life. And I'm truly terrible at it.

There are some things I'm waiting on right now that are uncomfortable to me. I am waiting to really learn German. Now, that's not a docile, passive waiting--I practice, I study, I talk to people every day. But in preparation for an exam we have coming up, I decided to take an online German placement exam. I got 8/30 right, and was placed as a beginner. I cried. I'm not kidding. I had a meltdown. I'll never learn German. I'll never speak it. I'm probably not going to pass the exam. It was a pretty big pity party, I'm not going to lie. But you know what? I am a beginner. Just because I can put a sentence together correctly doesn't mean I'm not a beginner. (I can hold a pretty good conversation with anyone under 4, as long as it's mostly about food.) I must give myself time to really learn. I'm not 20, and this is my third language. It'll come. It'll happen. But I have to wait patiently.

We are waiting to really figure out our place here in Vienna and on our team. There has been lots of transition for our team, and it continues. I want it done now. Maybe yesterday. I want to know what ministry is going to look like. In fact, if you could work out our ten-year-plan and just give me the outline so I can write it in my calendar (one of THREE I keep on my desk), then that would be super. But that's not how it works, is it? Nope. Transition will happen, we will settle in, we will find our place in this city and on our team...but these things take time. I have to wait.

The granddaddy of "waiting" situations in our lives has been the last six weeks with my Dad's health. I have not talked publicly much about this (until it was resolved), and I haven't even really talked much privately about this. In fact, very few people have known how sick my Daddy is and has been. We have been waiting for a diagnosis for weeks of what is causing him to be so ill. And it's been torture. Not just hard. Torture. My sisters are in Dallas and Indianapolis. I'm in AUSTRIA, for heaven's sake. So in my heart, I've pictured my sweet parents, all alone in Florida, with my Dad getting sicker and sicker and sicker...let's just say my normal trouble with sleeping has been magnified a bit in the last six weeks.  And the symptoms--and even comments from the doctor--led us to expect the worst. (I think even the doctor thought it was cancer.) I had a complete meltdown one night at about 1am, and had to go downstairs and plan my trip back to Middleburg. I simply could not, under any circumstances, sit in Vienna, Austria, while my Daddy was sick in Florida. I couldn't. Impossible. Yet, that's exactly what I did, and what my sisters did, as we waited.

If you're on facebook with me, you know that we got the diagnosis yesterday--something with a big long name that is basically a mass that is wrapped around Daddy's left kidney. And while he still feels terrible and is really sick, it's something that can be fixed. It's not cancer. It's not get-yourself-home-to-Middleburg-asap time. There are surgeries at hand, things to be done...but there is a positive outcome at the end of this tunnel unless something really unexpected happens. And we're so thankful, and so grateful. Many, many tears of joy have been shed in the last 24 hours, and I'm sure those weren't just here in Vienna.

I'm not just thankful, though, for a more positive outcome than any of us expected. I'm thankful, as weird as it sounds, for the waiting in my life right now. Not just in this situation, but in a lot of situations. Waiting gives me the chance to reflect on God's faithfulness, in the dark times and in the happy times. When this all started, and we realized something was really wrong with my Dad, I made a covenant with God in my prayer journal, one I asked Him to hold me accountable to--that I would praise Him no matter what the outcome. Good news, bad news, in between news...it's all about Him. And I don't think it's coincidence that this week, which has been by far the hardest as we knew a diagnosis was coming, was a traveling week for Marc, one in which I've had very little contact with him. No relying on Marc to bolster me. No relying on friends to carry me through. Nope. Me and God. And it hasn't been a terrible week. I've stuck pretty close to home as we waited for the diagnosis (and as my Dad felt worse and worse), but it's been a pretty good week, if a quiet one. I've gotten some things done. I've studied German. I've done some cleaning. And I've spent some significant time relying on the One who loves me--and you--and my Daddy best.

Time to get the day started. Well, of course, my day actually started around 4, when Tasha came and stood on my chest and licked my face. What kind of cat licks your face?!?! Oh, well...at least she's a sweet, affectionate pet, right?! Wherever you are in the world, and whatever you're waiting on, I pray that you are relying on Him alone, and that you are having a "Mom-learns-to-play-Sonic" night at your house, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Who is this King of Glory?

No trip anywhere in Wien is complete without some ice cream. Seriously...it's dangerously good. (And yes, John does have some on the tip of his nose. :)

Our family is hooked on the audio guide. This was on our trip to the Mozarthaus here in Wien.

For Spring Break, they got to choose some stuff they wanted to do in our city. The Mozarthaus was John's choice. He is going through a Mozart phase. Seriously--he's Mozart crazy right now!!

Who is the King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. Psalm 24: 8

Sometimes, a perfect storm occurs, and it makes it impossible for me to do anything but write about a particular topic. This is one of those times. My book of the Bible for 2012 (the one I'm reading and studying my way through) is Psalms, and I just made it to chapter 24. (Yes, I DID start on January 1st. I'm thorough.) I'm also studying the gospels, beginning with Matthew. (Yes, I DID start that way back in October. I'm very thorough.) And last night, at our church's Good Friday service, I sang an old song I haven't sung in years--Lamb of God by Twila Paris. This is a perfect storm for me, one in which everything around me is pointing to one thing (or in this case, one Person): Jesus. Who is this King of Glory? He's Jesus.

As part of my study of Matthew, I highlighted everything Matthew tells us about who Jesus is, what He thinks, how He acts. I've spent the last three days putting them in my journal during my quiet time, as a sort of reflection on God's greatest gift to us. It's too long a list to put on this blog--I counted this morning, and there are 81 sentences about who Jesus is. But I wanted to share the last part of the list with you on this Easter Saturday, as we all remember that time between His burial and His resurrection, that time when it must have seemed that all light and hope and love had left the world.

Jesus:

• weeps for Jerusalem.
• wants us to know the truth.
• calls the nations to Himself.
  
• knows the end of the story.
• is the end of the story.
• is coming in His glory to take His throne.
• cares for the least of these.
• loves to be lavishly adored.
• does not beat around the bush.
• knows we will fail often, but wants us to try anyway.
• knows the sting of betrayal.
• will come again.
• was denied and abandoned by His closest friends.
• is righteous.
• was beaten but did not utter a hateful word.
• died.
• was buried.
• rose from the dead.
• is always with us, no matter where in the world we go in His Name.

As I've put this list of who Jesus is in my journal, I have been overwhelmed by not only my love for Him, but His enormous love for me. He is the demonstration of God's love for the whole world. He's more than a great story. He's everything. The whole ballgame. But He's also a choice. You either follow Him or you don't, but He gives you the choice. There is no middle ground with Him. If anything became clear to me during this particular part of my study, it's that He's an all-or-nothing Savior, unimpressed by our good works and the things we say or do that we think are "righteous." He is righteousness. He is love. He is everything.

He is the reason I am here in Austria. I would love nothing more in the world at this moment than to be sitting with my parents in their living room in Middleburg, Florida, planning our Easter dinner together. But Jesus, the Lamb, the Holy, Righteous, Perfect Son of God died for me. Then He asked me nicely to follow Him to Austria. And for our family, that was no choice at all. We had to follow Him. I cannot imagine saying no to the One who gave His life for me. And not on the spur of the moment, not on a whim. He came to give His life for me. I love Him for so many things, for so many reasons, but I love Him most of all because He knew what His purpose was here. He knew all along. And He came, anyway, because He loved me and you that much. What kind of King does that for His people? My King. King Jesus.

Our Good Friday service was quite somber and for me, very moving. And while I loved singing with Hannah (one of God's kindnesses to me is the chance to sing with my girl), and I loved reading a portion of the story, the most moving thing for me, oddly, was lighting and blowing out the one candle that was lit in the room. I didn't say anything, and was surprised when, as I went to light the candle, the familiar words ran through my mind: Behold the Lamb of God, who came to take away the sins of the world. Then, when I blew out that one light, that one candle representing the Holy Lamb of God, I was struck by the way the darkness suddenly filled the room. I imagine that's how it seemed in Jerusalem that terrible, wonderful Good Friday. And maybe there are things in your life and your world that seem exactly that way--that darkness has filled every nook and cranny. The good news of Jesus is this: no matter how it may seem that darkness has won, that there is no hope, that all is lost...the sun dawns on Easter Sunday, the stone is rolled away, and the tomb, my friends, is empty. He is not here. He rose, just like He said. Hallelujah. Amen.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that this will be a day to reflect on God's absolute love for you, and that your friends are coming for a visit this week, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye