The Patterns of His Faithfulness

You might get tired of cat pictures, but I NEVER do. She comes in every morning and sleeps through my quiet time. :)

The view from my office this morning--the snow slid off the top of the building, but froze over my window instead of dropping. Now, I have some lovely icicles to gaze at while I work.

My view yesterday afternoon: my big, comfy chair, a great book, a great cup of tea, and lots of snow!

Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. Hebrews 4:16

My German teacher, Laura, and I had a conversation at my last lesson that we often have. It was about the value of not understanding. Not understanding something academic bothers me. I am making the move from A2 level coursework to B1 level coursework. B1 is significantly harder. I was reading a piece from the newspaper, and then I was supposed to write questions about it. I had spent an hour looking up every single word I did not know, and the piece still didn't make sense to me. (German, like English, has so many different meanings for words, that sometimes it's almost impossible to figure out which meaning is being used.) When I told her this, she (once again) gave me the lecture about it being ok not to understand the meaning. "You are looking for patterns, Kellye. The meaning will come. But you are looking for the grammatical patterns." I'll be honest. I wasn't in the mood to look for the grammatical patterns. (Yes, sometimes I AM in the mood to look for them.) I just wanted to understand. I was frustrated because I couldn't even understand enough to figure out what patterns were developing. I was frustrated because I couldn't even understand enough to figure out which questions to ask about the patterns. I was just...frustrated.

And frustrated is a recurring theme of our lives over the last 15 months since we arrived in Vienna. Frustrated by the language (which is not as hard as Russian, but which is quite hard on top of Russian), frustrated by the culture (though it's lovely, we're definitely not in Eastern Europe anymore), frustrated by relationships or the lack thereof, frustrated by a deep, abiding unhappiness in Hannah's life, frustrated that we can't seem to get Daddy well (surgery number 3 in the last year is today)...frustrated. And I don't mean a little bit of frustrated, either. I mean want-to-grit-my-teeth-and-scream-really-loudly frustrated.  We have taken action, we've prayed, we've cried, we've begged and pleaded, we've talked ad nauseum...and it seems that when one frustrating situation resolves itself, another pops up to take its place. In so many ways, it has been the perfect storm of frustration.

So--is this the most depressing thing you've ever read, or what?!?! If I were signing off here, it certainly would be. But it's not, so hold on--it gets brighter! In our lives, language learning--whether Russian or German--is a great metaphor for all things. And certainly, Laura's advice to look for the patterns even when the meaning is beyond me--well, that's great advice for life, right? Because no matter my situation--how dark or bright it is--there are certainly patterns. In our frustration, we have spent a good bit of time looking for the patterns. One of her favorite overseas aunts, when Hannah was talking to her about her situation this summer, said to her, "Hannah, what is Jesus doing?" And that, my friends, is the same thing as looking for patterns. In the midst of what has been an unpleasant season, Jesus is definitely doing something. 

• We have come to truly love our city. Vienna is imminently loveable. The beauty, the history, the culture, and--most of all--the people have made Vienna our home.
• We have developed close-knit relationships here in the city with other believers. These relationships--so beautifully displayed in their delight in making our apartment over while we were in Bratislava this past weekend--provide us with deep connections here. They also bolster us--as we pray we bolster them--during difficult times. If we are the Body of Christ, then these relationships help us to be His hands and feet and heart.
• There are ministry opportunities developing that might--just maybe--be exactly what we've been praying for since coming to Vienna 15 months ago. Those opportunities seem to be arriving at the exact moment we need them in order to hang on. Literally--on the day this week when we were ready to throw up our hands in defeat, Marc got an email about the possibility of a really exciting ministry that might be heading our way.
• Our children have close friends, both here in the city and all around Europe and the States. Can I just say a word here about the people we serve with and their children? We are crazy, nutso about the folks who call us Aunt Kellye and Uncle Marc, and about their parents, who are our childrens' overseas family. Can you imagine the comfort of those relationships to us, to Han, to John? One thing I love about these relationships is their determination to build each other up in a world that is determined to tear them down. Forget everything else our company provides for us--and it's a lot!--the relationships with our colleagues all over Europe...priceless to us. 
• We have incredible role models, people who have loved us, helped us, spoken truth into our lives, people who have been through the hard, the dark, the terrible...and hung on to continue to faithfully serve our giant God in a land that is not their own. We have heard from so many of them in the last few days...and been reminded that we often walk in the footprints of people whom we not only love and adore, but also admire and respect with every ounce of our being.

So what is Jesus doing? I don't always know. I don't always understand. Particularly in the case of Hannah's situation, I have really not understood. But I can see this in the patterns that have emerged and continue to emerge in our journey of faith--He is faithful. He is doing something we will not believe when we get the full picture. Something amazing. Amazing in us, in our kids, in this beautiful city and country and continent that we love and call home. Because He is in every ounce, every breath, every move we make...He is there, calling us to follow, to trust, and to obey even when we don't understand. And He--everything about Him, everything about my life with Him--is better than any easy path I might have chosen for myself, for my kids, for our career overseas.  So we hold on, not because we understand, or because we are particularly strong, but because we know Him, and we've seen Him at work, and we know He is working still. And because in our utter weakness, He shows Himself not only strong, but completely enough. When Hannah posted a status on Facebook that just said, "God's got this," she wasn't being pithy or witty or spiritual. She was just confirming what we, as a family, have seen again and again in our lives. He is in control. And His love for us reaches to the heavens and stretches to the skies. Even in dark times, seasons, years...especially then, this is cause for rejoicing.

Well, off I go to escort Marc to the lung specialist here in Vienna. We're praying the doctor will have some answers about why he can't get a deep breath sometimes. We're also praying for my parents as Daddy has his gallbladder removed this morning, and for Han as she finishes up her time at the school in Vienna and switches to her new school online. That's a lot to pray for in one morning, but as Han reminds us--God's got this. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know His deep and abiding faithfulness to you, and that you are having dinner with colleagues tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

I get by with a little help from my friends

I can't pick a favorite part of my new home, but if I had to, this would be it. Why? What a great representation of our nutty life--the chicken is from France, the plate is what looks like old German, the verse is, of course, in German, the little heart is the red and white of Austria, and the two aprons are in Russian. C'mon. That's a pretty cool life.

Our gorgeous new entryway.

How is it possible that more furniture makes our flat look tons bigger? I would NEVER have been able to put this together--brown and reds? what?!?!---but I just love it so much!!

Therefore, since we have such a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us...Hebrews 12:1

Sometimes, I don't have anything to say. That's just the truth. Sometimes, life is just life, and it requires no commentary. It is what it is. And then, there are other times--like now--when there is so much to say that I don't know how or where or when to say it all. So if this comes across disjointed, it's because there is so much in my brain and in my heart, and I'm not sure how to get it all out.

My very first experience overseas was in St. Petersburg, Russia--a city that remains close to my heart even now. It was cold and gray, and everything was so different. It was a vision trip, something our company (which wasn't our company, yet) wanted us to do in order to have a firm grasp of the step we were taking in leaving behind the comforts of Middleburg, Florida, for the very different life of Moscow, Russia. It was just the two of us, and it was so bizarre. It was a wonderful trip, but it was a terrifying trip. I remember going to the grocery and buying things without a clue what they even were--thinking about the difficulty of not just picking up a new language, but literally starting from the ground up with a new alphabet. I remember talking to Marc as we lay there in a tiny apartment in St. Petersburg, trying to deal with jetlag, whispering far into the night. Had we lost our minds? Wasn't this crazy? But on the other hand, we also whispered these things far into the night: Can you imagine doing anything else? I'm sure, aren't you? I am a bit of a Russophile--I love Russian history and Russian literature and always have--and I kept crying as we went around the city. I remember standing in front of the Hermitage--that glorious palace turned into one of the world's premiere museums, and sobbing. It wasn't that the beauty of it overwhelmed, though it did. It was the notion that I--a girl from a little town in rural Florida--I was the recipient of God's incredible grace. His plan for my life and that of my family was scary, terrifying, and crazy--but it was also exhilarating and special and completely clear. So clear. He had not just whispered my name in the dark. He--the God of the Universe!--had called my name out loud. Come, He said. I am going to do things that you can't even imagine, and you are going to have a front-row seat. Strap yourself in, Kellye Michelle Hooks, because this--this life with Me--this is going to be quite a ride.

So what does that have to do with now? Well...nothing, and so much. Marc and I try every year to set aside a weekend to really evaluate--where have we been? Where are we going? We did that this weekend--heading to Bratislava, Slovakia, on the train Friday morning, and coming back last night. Bratislava is a little gem of a city. Gorgeous. Friendly. Old. Really, really old. (Some of the places we were dated from 905AD. No kidding. Old.) And I loved it. Not just time with Marc, which is always a hoot, but just walking around in the snow, reading all the stuff on the different statues (have I mentioned how handy it is to speak a Slavic language? Because honestly--if you speak one, you can kind of figure out the meaning of the most of the others.), climbing yet another ridiculously high tower in order to enjoy the incredible view it affords. I really loved Bratislava, because it reminded me of that first trip. The excitement. The fun of a new life, even one that was crazy and terrifying. That clear call on our lives. We found a cute little bagel shop, and while we ate bagels and sipped great Cappuccinos (did you know that drink was invented by Cappuccin monks? I didn't--Marc told me.), I thought about our life. I think sometimes our life on Facebook looks like a fairy tale. And we do get to do some incredibly neat stuff, and our kids are getting the experience of a lifetime, and it is great to live in Europe. All true. But our life--like your life and anybody who is honest's life--is filled with hardship. We are enduring a season of incredibly deep unhappiness for one of our children. Whoever said that you are only as happy as your unhappiest child hit the nail on the proverbial head. It's all-consuming, isn't it, when our children are unhappy?  Even as we have settled deeper and deeper into our life in Vienna--studying the language, making relationships with Austrians, finding our own 'pond' of ministry--that unhappiness has settled like a pall over our lives here. So you can imagine that the situation with that child dominated our evaluation of life this weekend. Are we taking the right steps? the right action? are we protecting her heart? Is there anything else we can do?

As we trudged home from the train station, I'll admit to feeling a little blue. I--like any parent--want to make my child's life as good and easy as possible. In this case, while I feel like I've done everything I can, it hasn't worked. Nothing about her life is easy. If you had seen me on my way home, you would have known how I was feeling. Head down, shoulders hunched against the cold...I didn't look like the picture of happiness. So imagine my surprise when the door opened to my apartment, and I walked in to find a basically new flat. I cannot decorate. I'm TERRIBLE. I can't put stuff together. I don't know what it should look like. And our flat has been a bit barren. White walls. Few decorations. Not homey. But Marc (with some financial help from the States) has planned and schemed with my friends here for a month--to buy the rest of the furniture we needed, to decorate, and to surprise me with the home of my dreams. And that's what I came into last night. Home. I came home.

I love everything about the way my apartment looks. It's a combination of new and old. (My friend, Christina, is a genius at shopping second-hand stores.) It's great colors that I would never have thought to put together. (Lots of Red--everything Austrian is red and white, and I love it!) A lot of it is stuff I had, but I just didn't know what to do with it. And everything is from everywhere--it's so us, combining our time in Russia, Czech Republic, and Austria. Stuff from everywhere, different languages, all put together to make sense. I love it. I cannot stop smiling. But what I love the most is that my friends did it. Friends. People I'm not just acquaintances with, but friends who are walking this road, this journey with us. Folks who love us enough to give up a weekend and work (like crazy!) to surprise me. The love that went into this is splashed all over my home. Everywhere I look, I am reminded that I am known--and I am loved. Beyond what is reasonable, I am loved. And friends, if that's not a picture of the Church as Jesus meant it to be--then I don't know what is.

We, the church of Jesus Christ, the people whose names have been called by the Almighty--we testify to His great love for us not only by our love for those who don't believe, but by our deep and abiding love for one another. Sometimes, that just means we pray for one another. Hard. Sometimes, it means we bake a loaf of banana bread and show up with it on the day somebody is worried because her Daddy is having surgery across the ocean. Sometimes, it means we go to lunch at Campus Suite and listen and laugh. Sometimes, it means we love on each other's kids, no matter how far or close to us they might be. And sometimes, it means we surprise a friend with deep kindness and abiding love by decorating her apartment. Yes. Sometimes, it looks just like that.

My newly decorated apartment doesn't change my child's situation. We know that nothing but the hand of God can change her situation. But it is a physical reminder of God's love for us by giving us people to be loved by and to love in return. That, my friends, is good news. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are thankful for your deep friendships with other believers, and that you didn't forget that stores are closed on Sunday where you live. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters!

The sisters with Momma

My role models growing up, my heroes, my friends...my sisters

The sisters with Daddy

Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity! Psalm 133:1

Happy New Year from windy Wien! Vienna sits in a bowl, surrounded by hills, and I don't know that I've lived anywhere as windy other than Oklahoma. (You know, in Oklahoma, the wind comes sweeping down the plain. Sorry. I couldn't stop myself.) And we live on the top floor, so when it blows--WOW! It sounds a bit like a freight train is coming through from the balcony. But I'm all cozy in my wintergarden/sunroom, and since Hannah is away and the boys are still sleeping, I thought I'd spend some time getting my thoughts down on paper (or at least virtual paper). Hannah left Wednesday for a retreat with other teenagers in our company from all over Europe, and from the pictures I occasionally see of her from adults at the retreat, she is happy as a lark. I have it on the list to write about the important part relationships with other kids from families who do what we do is, but that's not today's topic. As you can see from the pictures and the title, today's topic is my sisters.

I'll be honest--until I went away to college, I assumed most people were close to their siblings. I didn't realize that lots and lots of people have little to no relationship with their brothers and/or sisters. I couldn't--and can't--imagine such a life. Even though my sisters are older than I am and were out of the house and married by the time I hit my teenage years, they remain the people closest to me in the world. I have incredible friendships, great women with whom I do life overseas, or who are my friends in the States. But no one on earth is as close to me as my sisters, Cathy and Kay. I have thought about this relationship more in the last year than ever before, because my Daddy's illness made the true blessing of our relationship clearer than ever before.

When  Daddy got sick in the spring, it was grueling. I spent lots of time just sitting by the phone waiting to hear something. What a relief when  Kay went to Florida to visit my parents. Then we got the news in August that a tumor we already knew about had started to really grow, and the torture continued. What is worse than being a continent away when someone you truly adore is ill? When the surgery to remove the tumor was scheduled, Cathy volunteered to go and help. Then I was already scheduled to go in December to Florida, so we felt like my parents were somewhat 'covered' during Daddy's recovery. (Of course, because  Daddy is  Daddy, he was pretty much recovered before I got there.) I was talking about all of this with one of my friends here, and she asked me about my sisters--were we on the same page about Daddy's illness, about helping out, about who would go when? I must have looked like an idiot, because I sort of stared blankly for a minute. My sisters and I? We're a completely united front. 100%. In fact--and you probably won't believe this--I am 45 years old (that's not the part you won't believe), and I cannot recall EVER having cross words with my sisters as an adult. NEVER. I don't ever recall having cross thoughts about my sisters. No kidding. We get along that well.

As time goes by, I understand more and more the great gift of my relationship with my sisters. I know that in any circumstance, I can call. Need a laugh? Call them. Need to cry? Call them. (Poor Cathy--I called her on our first Christmas Eve overseas and sobbed for 30 minutes, completely ruining her Christmas.) Something done for SB? Call them. Worried about Mom or Daddy? Call them. You get the idea. They are a great source of comfort and help, yes. But even more than that--I really like them. They are funny and fun, and when they surprised me during my visit to Florida by unexpectedly showing up--the most fun thing EVER. I don't just love them. I like them so much. Add in an incredibly close, supportive relationship with our parents, and you start to get the full picture. What an incredible blessing to have such a close family.

When my grandfather died, our family was in a separate room to the side of the main room at the funeral home. We had lost my grandmother 20 days earlier, and we were in deep, deep grief--grief and mourning that felt too personal to be shared with anyone outside the family. One of the things I will never forget is when my uncle told us that we were the dysfunctional family--that normal American families didn't love each other this much. (He and Daddy mourned deeply--the much, much beloved sons-in-law.) As I've gotten older, I've realized the truth of his statement. Most families fight and argue. Ours just never has. Oh, of course when we girls were younger, there was snipping about this or that. But we were raised to believe something I've probably told my own children three million times--friends may come and go, but your sisters (and brother) are there for your whole life. A friend from college recently lost his brother, and I could so understand his status update about the loss. He said, "One of the weird things about having a tight family is that although it really hurts when you lose someone, you aren't burdened with regrets or baggage and you can rejoice in good memories and the promises of faith and God's word." (Thanks to M.R. Kidwell for allowing me to quote him.) I am so thankful for a relationship without regrets. As I look back over my life, I regret snarkiness and sarcasm, I regret a critical and judgmental spirit, and I very often regret the many hairstyles that have graced by giant noggin over the years. But I never, ever regret the time and energy it takes to maintain my relationship with my sisters. We may not call every day, we may not see each other very often, but I know that out there in the world are two women who have a contract to be my friends always, no matter what. There is great, intense, wonderful comfort in that.

I don't know the recipe for developing close relationships between your children, by the way. My parents raised us to be close, but I've also seen lots of parents who have tried to do that and their adult children have nothing to do with one another. I'm blessed that, even though they have the normal tiffs that all siblings do growing up, my own children continue to develop a close relationship with one another. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are as thankful to the Father of all blessings for your siblings as I am, and that you are looking forward to watching the Cotton Bowl tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye