Looking for rest in all the wrong places

This will only mean something if you've been to my flat--but notice that the snow is hiding the big building under construction.

I woke up to snow this morning!

This is the best I could do to capture how hard it is snowing--but it is seriously coming down!

Now the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will personally restore, establish, strengthen, and support you after you have suffered a little. 1Peter 5:10
  
<sup>Well, friends, to say that it is beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Vienna this morning is an understatement! I've been up since 3:45, and it has been pouring snow since I got up. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. Now, it'll melt tomorrow, so no worries that we are in for snow from now until Spring, but I'm enjoying sitting at my kitchen table and watching it snow. I like snow. I really do. (Somewhere, Sarah Beth is groaning, because she HATES snow.) I do not like ice, but snow is pretty. 

My flat is quiet this morning. Our guests from Czech Republic returned home yesterday, and our Fall break starts today, so everyone (except me, of course) is taking advantage of the chance to sleep in. We had planned a trip to Budapest this week, but changed our mind. With Daddy recovering in Florida, a hurricane/winter storm bearing down on Marc's parents in Maryland, and summer travel plans that look expensive, we decided to save the money and not be out of town. But there are beautiful day trips from Vienna, and we are looking forward to those. (If our Austrian friend, Greta, reads this--we are going to Bratislava, and not just to Tesco, per your instructions!) I don't really mind being up early this morning. It's so peaceful to watch the snow, to sip coffee, to read my Bible. It brings a sense of restfulness to my day, and rest, well...it's quite the commodity in the Hooks house these days.

Many of you know that Marc has been having some troubling symptoms of a health problem. Honestly, we thought it was his heart. If you know Marc's parents, you know that his family's heart history is not exactly pristine, so we are always cautious about anything that could be a sign of heart problems. And these symptoms have been really scary. So he went to the doctor last week, and the doctor diagnosed a "lung problem" which requires him to use an inhaler, and clinical exhaustion. Sweet folks, well-meaning friends, have suggested that he take a nap or get a particularly good night's sleep. And, of course, there is an element of needing sleep, but that's not really the problem the doctor identified. It's not sleep he prescribed. It's rest. And the things he talked about with Marc...less stress, less pressure, more time relaxing...they are not the results of a few nights' lack of sleep, but a problem we have faced since coming to Vienna. Where do we find rest?

Now, before you blame this on Marc's job or his travel schedule (I've already gotten emails), I will tell you that those two things are sources of great joy for Marc. He loves his job. He loves what he does. He loves the opportunity not just to travel, but to make connections with so many people all over Europe and the world. That feeds his soul. Those things are not the problem. And listen--this is not a Hooks problem. I am hearing these stories from all over the world. We're tired. We're exhausted. We need a break. Rarely are those comments coming from people who hate their job. Nope. They're coming from people who, like we have, are looking for rest in all the wrong places. (Get the reference to the old song? Get it? See what I did? Hehehehehee...I tickle myself.) 

We love Vienna. We adore Austria. We could not love this city more. And we love the work we do for Southern Baptists. Our lives are good and sweet in so many ways. But we often take things on ourselves that aren't ours to take. We worry. We are anxious. We want to be perfect. (In language, in ministry, in writing, in video work, in parenting, in our marriage...name something. We want to be perfect in it.) We pray and give things to God, but pick them right back up and strap them on our shoulders again--the salvation of beloved friends, Daddy's health, the Engage Sochi project, our relationship with our Austrian church, learning yet another language. And like you, we have other stresses that are too personal to share in a public format. Suffice to say that this past year has been one of the most stressful times we have experienced in our family's life.  And though we have tried very hard to keep the stress under control, to relieve the pressure we feel, to make our lives restful and calm...well, obviously, we have pretty much failed at that. So where do we go from here?

This isn't one of those blogs where I have the answer tied up in a neat bow, where I can end it with a description of how cool and super spiritual we are in our solution to this problem. I can't. You know why? I don't know the answer. I know that Jesus is the answer, of course. He is our rest. He is our peace. For sure that's true. But how that plays out for us in a practical way...well, as SB would say, we're working on it. A friend suggested that we take a look at our Sabbath practice. Do we have Sabbath practices? Or are we so caught up in running from one place to another that we never give ourselves the chance to really take the opportunity to rest? I don't know the answer to that. It's something we are praying over. Here is what I do know--this is an issue of the heart. We DO have a heart problem, it turns out--just not the one we thought we were looking at. The problem here is that in our hearts, we have tried really hard to be in charge and control. But in a year of "perfect storm" events--one hard thing after another, one stressful situation after another--we have tried to act like we had it all together. So here is the honest truth: we don't.  We are often a big mess. We love our parents and our kids and our friends, and we want only good things for them, and when there are things in their lives and ours that are out of our control, bad things, sometimes terrible things--it's stressful. We want to make life good for everyone. We want everyone to know Jesus and His love and salvation. And when we can't make that happen...it's stressful for us. And the past year has worn us out. Like so many people in ministry, we're exhausted, not just in our bodies...but in our souls, where the exhaustion is nearly palpable.    

So, we're working on it. We really are. We spent the weekend laughing with people we really love. Laughter is excellent medicine, for sure. We are developing some really close relationships in Vienna, some old, some new, and that is helpful, too. And there are little moments that are so encouraging--like yesterday, at the end of our church service, when the whole church held hands and sang "Blessed be the Tie that Binds" together--auf Deutsch, of course, but quite touching despite the language barrier. So this isn't a blog post about how God has worn us out in ministry--not at all. Don't walk away with that. Again--we love our city, we love Austria, we love our work. But none of those things are necessarily a prescription for rest. And we need rest. So pray for us, won't you? As we seek rest and identity not in what we can do, how perfectly we can speak however many languages God has in store for us, how many videos or articles or whatever we can produce. Because here is our identity: while we were sinners, Christ died for us. He loves us. He believes in us. He has us here. He, and He alone, is our peace. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your lives are full of the joy that comes from serving a risen Savior, and that you are enjoying the snow there, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye</sup>  

 

Being the Body

So what does one do while awaiting word from a distant land? One studies German, that's what. :)

This kid is growing like a weed. Where did our little boy go?

Beautiful flowers from a friend helped me through Friday.

Let love of the brethren continue. Hebrews 13:1

It's a FOOOOOOGGGGGGYYYYYY morning in Vienna. I mean foggy foggy. Not just a little. You can't see buildings, it's so foggy. Vienna sits kind of in a bowl, surrounded by hills (not mountains--don't make that mistake. Austrians will look very confused if you talk about the mountains around Vienna, even if you are from Florida, the flattest place on the planet), and when it's foggy, which it is fairly often this time of year, it does not do it half-way. It goes full out in the fogginess. That, by the way, is related to absolutely nothing in this post--just my little comment on how foggy it is in Vienna. :) Some of you who read this blog are people who believe what I believe and think like I think. Some of you, however, are not. You are former students or colleagues or friends I've amassed over the years, bright, wonderful parts of my life, but you would not count yourselves as followers of Jesus Christ. The common complaint I hear from you is that when you look at Christians, you are not impressed. We don't treat each other well. We eat our young, so to speak, pushing people out of their new-found faith by insisting that they wear certain things or prove their salvation. We are hypocrites. We can't take a joke. We are judgmental and awful, and we are an unappealing group, taken as a whole. (And you know, of course, my answer, because I've given it to many of you individually over the years--follow Jesus, not His followers, because we are a messed up bunch. He, however, is spectacular.) I know the arguments against being a Christian. I also know that from the outside, many of those things appear to be absolutely true. We have often forgotten the true test of Christianity--love. Love. Love. Love. We hear it again and again from Jesus, from His first followers...love each other. It is our love that draws others to Him. It's just that sometimes, we forget and mess up and don't love. We don't love each other. We don't love those who don't believe. We don't love Him.

But let me give a plug for Jesus' followers. While it's true that we are messed up and goofy and often hateful...sometimes we show up and act exactly like we're supposed to--in love. It's no secret, friends, that this past week has been long and hard. Awful. It's been awful. I have been vague about details, because this is a public forum, and it's my parents' decision as to what they tell and don't. But it was not a great prognosis a month ago. Surgery was too risky, too dangerous. Then a second opinion said it was doable, though still risky and dangerous. It's been stressful for my sisters in the States, stressful for my kids, stressful for our parents...stressful. And to be a continent away...unspeakably awful. To add insult to injury, Marc was in Prague all week. (A trip planned long before the surgery, so nothing to be done about it.) So there I sat on Friday, waiting for news, waiting to hear something...alone. (If you don't think I was holding a pity party about being alone, you give me credit for more maturity than I deserve!) But you know what? I wasn't alone at all. (Of course, I had Jesus. I know. I'm talking about Christians here, though.) Messages started arriving Thursday from around the world. (I counted five continents.) A friend showed up with fresh banana bread and a beautiful bouquet. I talked to my sisters and parents before and during the surgery. Friends showed up to sit with my Mom and sister. And then we all rejoiced when the news was good--no organs removed or even touched, a tumor gone, the surgery better than had been hoped for.

You're thinking to yourself that all people, Christians or not, are kind in the midst of a crisis. Perhaps that's true. But this morning, a friend is going with Marc to the doctor, just in case the doctor doesn't speak English and Marc's German isn't good enough, something he volunteered to do. Yesterday, at our sweet Austrian church that we fall a little more in love with every week, a lady told me after a conversation explaining who we are and why we're there (and why our German is so...unusual), that she appreciated that we could live in Vienna without ever speaking German, because so many people here speak English, but we were learning German anyway. What an encouragement! People stopped to speak to me. John had a great Sunday School class, where they never seem irritated that they have to slow down for him. Hannah stayed after because the youth were putting together some praise music, and they wanted her to stay and sing with them. They aren't just nice. We're theirs. We belong there. Not because we are particularly wonderful, or because they are just so nice, but because we all recognize that we are God's family--no matter what language we speak. These are the ties that bind. This common love for the Savior, this common understanding that we are sinners saved by incredible, overwhelming, unspeakable grace...this gives us a love for one another that cannot be understood or explained outside of the massive love our Father has for us.

You know why Jesus and Paul and Peter and James all reminded us about loving each other, loving the brethren or the brotherhood? Because they knew how awful people can be. They knew it was sometimes hard to love each other. They knew that we would be stinky and rotten a lot, that we would feel that we had the right to tear each other apart in the name of "discipline." They knew, because people are people are people, and apart from Christ, we're all pretty stinky. And trust me--be around His church for any amount of time, and someone will hurt your feelings, will say something just awful to you that makes you want to scream, will look you up and down and find you wanting. But that's not Jesus--that's human nature in all its "glory." When we allow Jesus to really inhabit our lives in a significant way, when we stop living for us and live for Him, instead, when we give up our "rights" for His glory and our good...when we actually function as the Body of Christ...it's a beautiful thing. Gorgeous to see. Humbling to behold. And if that isn't an encouragement to you on a foggy, autumn morning, then you just don't want to be encouraged.

Well, time to walk and study German and do some other writing and just generally get moving on this Monday morning. Wherever you are in the world...thank you, thank you, thank you for praying for me, my sisters, and my parents. I smile upon every remembrance of each of you. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The value of I don't know

My favorite--the Votive Church in Vienna...one of my former students said it reminded her of the beginning of Beauty and the Beast, and I think that's perfect.

O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; my soul thirsts for You, my flesh yearns for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Psalm 63:1

If I had to pick one thing I say more in German than anything else, it would be "Ich weiß nicht," or I don't know. In Russian, the very first thing I learned to say was, "я не понимаю," or I don't understand, and that's a little bit different, isn't it? And in the difference between those two phrases is, at least to me, a picture of one thing I've really learned (the hard way!) in the last five years--the value of admitting that I don't know.

Let's get something straight: I like knowing stuff. I like very much to be right. And I'm very competitive. I wanted to be the best teacher, the best mother, the best wife...not just good or excellent at those things, but the best. I hate losing a game. I hate even more not knowing something. But in the last five years I've learned the value of facing up to what I don't know. And--isn't this true of all of us as we grow and mature, both as people and as Christians--the vast amount of what I don't know is pretty staggering. And I've learned the value of seeing myself in light of how Christ views me instead of how I view myself or how others view me.

When I started learning Russian, in fact the entire time I studied it, I was terrified that people would know I wasn't getting it. I don't understand became a way for me to fall back on the "I'm a language student" position, and ask people to slow down. I still say I don't understand, though I more often ask people to repeat something a little slower auf Deutsch. (I understand women better than men. Is that weird, do you think?) Because I was afraid of people knowing how little Russian I was actually grasping, I became even more scared of speaking to Russians. Because for sure, they would know. I can count to ten for you in several languages now, and that might impress an American who doesn't know those languages, but it's not going to impress a native speaker of those languages, right? So my inability to admit that I was struggling, that I didn't know the answer to something (or even what the question was) became a problem that inhibited me from making relationships. Now, I did get past this, and I have some tremendous relationships with Russian-speakers, both in Russia and the Czech Republic, so I'm not saying I was a total failure. But I might have gotten to those relationships faster and with more depth if I'd been willing to admit that I wasn't following all that was being taught to me. Why did I feel that way? Why was I so hesitant to admit that I was struggling? First, because I am an academic, and I didn't want people to know that I was struggling with something academic. Second, because I was comparing myself to those around me. And you know what? Many of them had been there 7,8, 10 years and spoke fluently. What in the world was I doing comparing myself to them? (And that, by the by, was not their fault. They weren't comparing themselves with me, after all. They knew firsthand how hard the language was.) The sin of this, the real damage I'd done to myself and my ability to really get the language was shown to me in one crystal-clear moment. Marc was in Russia, and I was in Prague, right after church one Sunday, standing with people I considered giants (still do) on the metro platform, waiting for the train. To one of them, I apologized for my poor Russian. (We were all working on a Russian church plant in Prague.) He looked at me and very, very pointedly said, "I've been speaking Russian for 15 years, Kellye. It took me a long time to learn it, and even longer to get good at it. Cut yourself a break. You don't need to apologize to me." He doesn't know it, but that one moment turned around my thinking and my practice of learning language. I speak as much German as I do now because he said that to me three years ago. I did cut myself a break. And I promised myself that I would admit when I didn't know something in order to learn better.

I make five thousand errors a day in German. I just got back a written exercise, something I spent hours putting together, and it is absolutely demolished with corrections. (Smile. Somewhere out there thousands of former AP/IB/AICE students are giggling just a little.) I speak to people on the bus, at markets, at the grocery, at the pharmacy--anywhere anyone will engage me. And you know what? Sometimes my accent is so American that they can't understand me. And it hurts. It really does. Because I am working my heart out here. But here's what I've learned. I can only do what I can do. I can only learn as fast or as much as I can learn. And everyone in Vienna with our company speaks better than I do. But God is God, whether I know the answer or even the question being asked. God is God when I can engage people well auf Deutsch, and He's still God when they look at me like I'm speaking some language from Mars. And the value of I don't know is this: when I don't know, He does. And when I admit that I don't know, I make it possible for someone to teach me. And having a teachable spirit and a teachable heart...well, that's worth any number of ridiculous language errors.

Of course, this has lots of applications in life, doesn't it? Not just language learning, but every day living, I think. The most important thing I ever said in a classroom (outside of "your English teacher loves you/is crazy about you/thinks you're terrific") was, "I don't know. I can look it up, but I don't know it off the top of my head." As we plan and pray for wisdom and strategy to reach this city (and any other city), I have to think that God honors the value of a broken heart that sighs, "Lord, I don't know. I don't know how to do it. Show me." In marriage, in parenting, in friendship...the freedom of admitting that we don't know something opens up incredible doors...for relationships to grow deeper as you find out together, for marriages to grow stronger as you rely upon one another, for parenting to become about what He knows and who He is instead of what we know and who we are. But all of that has to start with those three words: I don't know.

Well, lots to do before my Deutsch lesson today--laundry, groceries, dinner in the crockpot, more studying, of course--so I'd better run. Since this is Wednesday, and I likely won't write again this week, I would ask that you pray for my parents and sisters and I (and, of course, our families) on Friday, as my Daddy goes in for surgery to remove a tumor. European friends, they won't start until about 4 in the afternoon our time on Friday. But if you would say a quick prayer for him, his doctors, his family, his health...we would all count it a blessing. Thanks for that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know (and don't have to learn the hard way) the value of admitting what you don't know and relying on the One who knows everything, and that you are enjoying a gorgeous fall day where you are, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Goodbye, Dos Vedonya, Auf Wiedersehen

Marc and Sarah Beth right before we took her to the airport to go back to the States.

My sweet friend, Tina, as we were saying goodbye. After their time in the States, they will return overseas, but to a different country.

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. Proverbs 17:17

There are few things in life I think I'm actually an expert on--I am something of an expert on English grammar, on the metaphysical poets (especially John Donne), and on salsa-making, which I've turned into an art, frankly. (Really. Seriously. It's super good.) But those are things I've spent considerable time on, things I've learned about because I had to, frankly--I was an English teacher for many years, I taught John Donne every year I taught (until I was done with Donne--you knew I had to do it, right?), and I could not find a jar of salsa that looked and tasted like actual salsa to save my life in Moscow, so I learned to make my own. But none of these can compare to my expertise at saying goodbye.

When we came overseas the first time, in October, 2007, I thought my goodbyes were done. After all, I'd said goodbye to everyone, everything, and every place I'd ever known, sold everything I'd ever owned, and trekked off across the world to follow God on a grand adventure. I'd stood at the airport while John John clung to my Daddy's leg, refusing to say goodbye. (John John thought Mimi and Poppy were coming with us to Russia. He was not pleased with the news that they were not.) I'd hugged my sisters one last time, weeping in the parking lot. Those had to be the end of the goodbyes, right? WRONG. One hundred percent wrong. Those were only the beginning of this life, a life marked by goodbyes. We've said goodbye to friends who have resigned and gone back to the States, who have not returned to the field because of budget cutbacks, friends who've died suddenly, friends who've relocated to another country or stayed behind when we relocated. Since coming to Vienna a year ago, we've said goodbye to one family who returned to the States to pursue a different ministry and two families who have relocated to other countries. And that doesn't count the goodbyes we've said to Sarah Beth, both last September when we left Florida and this July when she left Vienna. Goodbye is something we know. It's not something we like, but it's something we know. We have, much to our dismay, become experts on leaving and on watching others leave. It is simply a truth of this life.

So why mention this today? Because our beloved home church is saying goodbye to her pastor of 14 years, whose family is moving to Alabama to pastor another church. Fourteen years is a long time, and in those fourteen years, our little church on the hill became that huge church on the hill--a giant presence in our community, a place where people reach out to their community and to the whole world. And today, they must say goodbye to this man they love, to his beautiful wife and his sons, who they've watched grow up. Goodbye. It sounds so...final and dismaying. But take heart, dear friends at First Baptist Church of Middleburg, Florida. With my expertise at goodbyes, I can assure you that for the believer, it's never a final goodbye.

Sometimes, God is shocking. Okay, more than sometimes. Often, God is shocking. He's a God of surprises, of roads we could not have imagined, of unplanned adventures. And while we think that makes our lives pretty fun and exciting, we sometimes get stuck thinking everyone else's life stays the same. But the truth is, if you're a follower of Jesus Christ, life is very interesting. If you're not your own, if you follow the God of Everything, then your life is not going to be sedentary. I'm sure there are many people who thought the pastor would stay forever, ending his career at the city on the hill. But the truth is that God had a different plan. And that's great for him and his family, but it's also great for the church. In the same way that when our children are mature enough to be sent out of our nests into the big world, we know it's time, our pastor knew that it was time for him and his family to minister elsewhere. He has followed God to bring the church this far. And now, God has something else for him, and someone else for the church. It's the way things are supposed to be. And while it's always sad to say goodbye, it's also a time of great thanksgiving. What a blessing to be part of God's enormous family, where goodbye isn't final, where until we meet again has real meaning to it. And what amazing things our God has done on that hill in tiny Middleburg, Florida, things no one could have imagined, things that cannot be of any other hand than His mighty hand. One of the pastor's favorite sayings is, "The best is yet to come." I know and have seen the workings of the God of the Universe, my friends. And I know for sure that the best--the very best--is, indeed, yet to come, both for the First Baptist Church of Middleburg and the pastor and his family.

So our goodbye is not goodbye. It's dos vedonya, auf wiedersehen--until we see each other again. What a blessing and a comfort for all who know Him to know that goodbye...well, it isn't really goodbye. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are as blessed with the fellowship of an incredible church as we are, and that you did not wait until today to finish your German homework for tomorrow, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Sharing life, kids and strong Viennese coffee

How cute is this? Marc and his pal, Tash, studying German.

We have been together since 1988, living the most incredible adventure. Here we are in front of the Wiener Rathaus.

Set up for the evening--Sooner game on tv, Gators on the big editing monitor. This is how pretty much every Saturday night of our lives looks during college football season.

 

There is no more lovely, friendly or charming relationship, communion or company, than a good marriage. ~ Martin Luther 

Well, friends, I find myself in an unfortunate but familiar position this morning--propped up on my couch with an aching knee and lower back. Marc and I walked all over Wien yesterday, just for fun, and by last night I was hurting. I woke up this morning in real pain. I've taken some Aleve and am praying for relief. I'm also praying that this is not how the rest of my life is going to be--plagued by knee and back problems. Oh, well. Enough complaining. At least my Gators won!! :)

Yesterday was one of those days that every couple needs--no plans, no agenda, and no work--just enjoying time together. I think sometimes from our pictures and posts on facebook, it may seem that our lives overseas are one long vacation--living in fun places, traveling to other fun places. And while it's true that we do love, love, love to travel and see different parts of this amazing continent, most of the time, our lives are filled with work. Marc often works until 1 or 2am on whatever video project he has at the moment. I feel like I do nothing but housework and homework all day long. (Both my German homework and helping with the kids' homework.) And that can stretch into our weekends, and in fact, it often does. So yesterday, with nothing on our agenda for the day except college football that night, we decided just to go out and walk around Wien. So we did. We got off at Rathaus (city hall) and walked to the Votivkirche and then down to the canal and the Ring. We hit a Flohmarkt, which is kind of an organized garage sale, where I picked up two books in English and Marc bought ice skates (for 5 Euros!!!), and we practiced our German. Getting out and doing things is the best way to practice a language, without question. One thing I am particularly working on is my accent, which still sounds very Russian. (My teacher told me this week I have a Kaisermuhlen accent--the neighborhood we live in has a distinct way of saying things, and I say them like everybody else here in this part of town. Hmmm...) So getting out was good. We practiced reading German inside the Kirche, where there are lots of memorials. We never get the English headsets in a museum with Deutsch, because we'll never learn it if we do that. It can make it harder, for sure, but it's great practice. We stopped at a cafe, then headed home to grocery shop and do homework (which absolutely did NOT get done).

One of the benefits/issues of this life overseas is that we are together 24/7. Sure, there are meetings, etc., and Marc has a pretty heavy travel schedule, but mostly, we're together. That can be blessing or problem, depending on the day. When we first came overseas, especially because we came at the onset of winter in Russia, it was not a blessing. All three of our kids plus us in a Russian apartment, while we learned Russian and I homeschooled...well, let's just say it wasn't particularly pleasant. But we survived it, and we learned some important lessons along the way. Since I seem to be into lists lately, here are some things we've learned about marriage in the last five years overseas:

• Every marriage has highs and lows. Listen, those people who claim to have a perfect marriage where they never fight are probably fibbing a bit. You know what? Marc and I are in accord about just about everything in the world, but we fight. The last year has been a really rough one for us, and we have fought. But no fight, no argument, no disagreement is the end of anything or that big a deal. Everybody fights. Everybody struggles. Marriage is hard, and anybody who says it isn't is lying. It's hard, because it's all about the other person, and if we're honest, we all have the capacity for truly horrendous self-centeredness. If every fight makes us worry that somehow our marriage isn't a good one, then we don't have a big-picture view of life. So appreciate the high points, pray through the low points, and hang on.
• Learn to laugh. I just have to tell you--sometimes we are complete idiots. We make huge language mistakes or culture mistakes, or we say something ridiculous. We can laugh or we can cry. From experience, I can say that laughing is far superior. There are certainly times to cry, but often, a good laugh just makes everything better.
• Be interested in each other. I watch a thousand videos a year. Marc listens to me talk incessantly about books and education. I can't tell you a single thing about video editing, and Marc couldn't care less about Jane Austen and why I've decided to reread all her books. (In case you're wondering, it's because I feel like I haven't given her a fair shake. Other people love her. I need to take a second look.) But we are deeply interested in one another. You know why I'm a college football fanatic? Because Marc is, and so it became interesting to me. He is the most interesting person I've ever known, this guy who God so graciously gave me. He makes my life broader than books and cats and what to make the kids for breakfast. 
• Have a deep respect for one another. If you ask Marc, he would tell you that I am the best teacher who ever lived. If you ask me, he is the best video editing missionary on earth. But deeper than that, we know and love and respect one another's hearts. I know that Marc's heart is deeply in love with his Savior. He knows that my heart is focused on how to serve the God I love in the best way possible. I can trust him, because I know his heart and I have a great respect for who he is in his soul. 
• Learn to rely on one another. In God's great goodness to us, He made us completely different people. I am practical and organized and frankly, not very creative. Marc is creative and a big, big dreamer, but the least organized person I've ever known. When we faced those truths about ourselves, we learned to rely on each other's strengths. I am never going to be the person who can picture or visualize something, but I can make a budget and stick to it. He is never going to be organized or have a straightened desk, but he is the person to whom God gives big dreams. We would have never left our old lives for this one without his dreams, and we would not be able to stay without my organization. We both bring something necessary to this life. 
• It's the little stuff. His favorite meal when he comes home from traveling. Sunflowers to surprise me on a rainy day. A nice note on a facebook wall. It's the little kindnesses much more than the grand gestures that make marriage so sweet. In a related note--about five years ago, we banned the snippy, ugly sarcasm about one another. No ugly comments and then a 'just kidding.' Can I suggest that kind of sarcasm has no place in any relationship? It has done wonders for our relationship and our relationship with our kids to drop that stuff from our repertoire.
• Spend time alone. The daily details of life have a way of working their way in and strangling any romance out of a relationship. Kids and sicknesses and verb conjugations and deadline pressures and financial strain don't add up to sweet, romantic feelings most of the time. And we're not dependent on feelings--this is a covenant, after all, not a chick flick--but we need to make sure we cultivate every area of our marriage in order to make it rock solid and strong. For us, time together, sitting in our favorite cafe, drinking strong Viennese coffee gives us time to remember that we're not just roommates raising children together. And by the way--some day it's going to be just the two of us. I want to make sure we aren't strangers when the kids are gone.
• Praise God, loudly and often, for each other. Marc is God's most incredible gift outside salvation to me. He is the biggest surprise of my life--I never really thought I'd get married and have kids--and the best one. He is funny and fun, and he makes me a better person. (He has this look--it involves an eyebrow--that lets me know when I'm being particularly snarky.) He loves me more than I deserve on a daily basis. I could not be more grateful for him, and I want to make sure he knows it.

Make sure that you hear me clearly, my friends--ours is not a perfect marriage, by any stretch of the imagination. However, it is a very happy one, one that builds the other up, one that makes difficult times bearable and happy times that much sweeter. It is a great privilege to serve God together, to watch each other grow in our understanding of who God is and how He works. It is the hardest thing I've ever done, harder than learning Russian or German, harder than leaving my parents to come here, harder than having Sarah Beth so far away. But it's the best part of my life, this longstanding love affair. It is a tangible way in which, daily, God shows His immense love for me. I am one blessed girl. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your marriage is a source of strength and happiness for you, too, and that your back and knee are not hurting this morning. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

For my 15-year-old daughter, her friends, and every 15-year-old girl ever

These two...well, they're kind of a mess, but hilarious together. It's good to have friends for a long time.

Han and her pals from ICSV at their formal in May. They are also a mess. :)

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. Ephesians 2:10

I have a few minutes before I have to exercise and shower before my German lesson. (For those of you on Facebook with me, you'll be glad to know that I did get my homework done. It took most of last night, but I got it done.) This particular topic is one I've really been thinking about, especially as I really watch Han and her friends grow and mature and struggle with what that's going to look like for them. Of course, perspective is everything, isn't it? I've already raised one daughter to adulthood, and she turned out pretty ok. :) (That's her life verse, by the way. You, SB, are definitely God's workmanship.) And I'm missing an important picture up there, one of Han and her best friend from home, Maddy. So Mads, you'll have to forgive me, but you know I'm technologically challenged, and I don't know how to get pictures off Han's facebook to put on here. But that should definitely be the third picture.

It's a privilege, isn't it, to watch people grow up? Some of the girls in her life have been a part of Han's world for a really long time, and to watch them mature and grow, both as young women and as Christians...what an awesome thing to get to do. Of course, we also love her friends from school, sweet girls who make our lives in Vienna so fun and interesting. It's also interesting to watch their struggles--some familiar, some not--from the perspective of my...many years, let's say. (Keep your comments to yourself. I can hear them from Austria!) Some things never change, and there are definitely things I've learned over time that I wish my 15-year-old self had known all those years ago.

God really does have a plan. Seriously, He does. And it's way, way better than you can imagine. I never in a million years pictured myself living in Russia or Czech Republic (Czechoslovakia when I was 15) or Austria...and I didn't really picture myself with a husband and children. But those things were in God's plan for me, and they are far superior to the life I dreamed up myself.

It isn't all about me, after all. And that's a great thing. All those years of cleaning and folding laundry and changing diapers (ok, Marc did most of the diaper changing) and packing lunches and planning meals...never wasted. Neither was any kindness I did when prompted by the Lord. Building churches, teaching Sunday School, teaching English, spending time thinking and praying for others rather than myself...the best moments of my life, moments I've never, ever regretted. Those things have made me tired, they've challenged me, they've sometimes stretched me to the point I thought I would break, but they have been the happiest, most fulfilling moments of my life. Being a wife and a mom and a teacher and a worker overseas...I wouldn't trade it for all the gold in...wherever they keep the gold. Fort Knox? Is that right?

If he's supposed to show up, he'll show up. And when he does, you'll know. Not everybody gets married. Some people are single. So I'm not promising your forever guy is out there, because I don't know God's plan for your life. But if he is out there, you'll know it. Maybe not when he walks in the room, but when it's time to know, you'll know. And just like God's plan for your life is better than your plan for your life, what you think is important in a man is going to pale in comparison to the enormous blessing of spending your life with God's perfect man for you. Marriage is super hard, but it's also the most fun I've ever had. But it's fun because I waited for God's guy. And it turns out, He definitely knew what I needed more than I did.

Be the lunker. This is advice I'm stealing from Hannah's youth pastor in Florida. He told her the thing his dad told him: to catch the lunker (I don't know--some kind of fish), you have to have the right bait. The same goes for relationships. He had her make a list of what she knew she wanted in a guy--heart for God, missions/ministry oriented, kind, fun, etc.--and then he told her to work on becoming the woman that guy would want to marry. In other words, girls, stop worrying about who you're going to date. Stop going from guy to guy. Spend some time concentrating on the person God created you to be. At 15, that's way more important than dating somebody right now.

You're God's workmanship, so act like it. Don't pollute your mind and body with the junk this world says is important. Act like somebody who knows she is loved and adored by the King of kings. Because you, my friend, are the design of God. He loves you right now, just like you are. He does not care if you have an acne breakout or braces or whatever thing you feel bad about yourself today. That will pass, but His love never fails. So make sure you are acting like someone who knows her place in the kingdom.

Don't settle. In any area of your life. Prayerfully make goals for yourself, and then work to achieve them. Whether it's school or boys or music...no matter what area of your life...don't settle just because it's convenient. Know how you want to be treated, and then don't make excuses for the boys who don't treat you that way. Insist on being treated with kindness, with respect. And when you're not, walk away.

Fifteen is a moment in time. It'll pass. Sometimes, it feels like 15 is going to be forever. But it's not. It's high school, which is often rotten and full of terrible people, but it passes. And the great news is that those people who were jerks at 15 often grow up to be perfectly nice people. Because just like you are not yet the person you're going to be, neither is anybody else. So cut everybody, including yourself, some slack. Treat others with the grace you want, too. Because, thankfully, you're all going to grow up. Hopefully. :)

I wouldn't go back to being 15 for anything. It was an awkward age for me. I wasn't very sure of myself, and I often made huge mistakes, especially in relationships. I was just a gangly mess most of the time. But I grew out of it. Or maybe I didn't, but God was kind and allowed me to have a great life, anyway. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your life has only gotten better with time, and that you got all your German homework done, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye