Girls and Boys

Me and the Han

The big guy

Sarah Beth and her DJ

The LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him." Genesis 2:18

Just so you know, I wrote about this yesterday. I approached it from a different angle, but I wrote about this yesterday. But then, just as the yoga lady on my Wii Fit Plus was saying my legs were a little shaky (really? I didn't notice as I clunked over like a sack of taters), I just felt...uneasy. I had tried to be funny and playful, and instead...I felt uncomfortable. Not with the writing--I am a ferocious self-editor, so I wouldn't put something up in public that wasn't at least decently written. No, that wasn't what was bothering me. It was the tone. I'd missed playful and funny and taken the road to Snarkville. I came off as sarcastic and a little mean, especially to boys. And let's be clear--I love the boys in my life. My daughter just married a great boy. My other daughter will likely some day marry a boy. And I am, of course, raising a boy and married to another one. Not to mention my biological nephews and my overseas nephews and all those boys at church who I've watched grow up over the years. I like and love all those boys. And I didn't sound like it. I sounded...demeaning. And since one of my pet peeves of the moment is this tendency to elevate all females above all males, to portray men in sitcoms as complete idiots who would get nowhere without their women...I just felt uncomfortable. So I left the somewhat angry yoga instructor on the Wii, hightailed it to my computer, and I deleted the post. It was what I wanted to say, but not how I wanted to say it.

We're in a fun stage of life. Okay, I'm married to Marc, and it's mostly been fun, but this is a really cool, fun stage of life. Sarah Beth is married and headed into her future, and that's so fun and exciting and rewarding for us as parents. Hannah is at BFA, and she is starting to think about the future--where she will go to college, what she will do with her life, and maybe with whom she will spend her future. And John, well, John has definitely discovered that girls do not have cooties. :) As soon as he runs into the house every afternoon, he races to his room to see if he can talk to someone special a few time zones in front of us. And all of this is fun and exciting. It really is. I am not the parent who hopes my children will stay single and live with me the rest of their lives. I thought Sarah Beth getting married might be a little bittersweet, but it really wasn't. It was just sweet. You know why? Because I have prayed for those people my kids will someday marry since my children were babies. You see, I have been so amazed and surprised by my marriage. I never really thought I'd get married. And then Marc Hooks entered my world, and suddenly, a life filled with cats and books didn't look as appetizing. He is--do you get tired of me saying it?--God's greatest gift to me, outside of my salvation in Jesus Christ. He makes me better, he makes me more fun, he makes my life an adventure. Above all, he continually leads our family to follow hard after Jesus, to pursue the God who never stops pursuing us. I want that for my children, because I know the amazing addition that kind of marriage is to our lives. If marriage is what God has for my kids, then I pray that they will have a marriage that encourages them to be more Christlike, to be more about other people, to be more in love with Jesus every day.

So here is what I'm praying for my children, for my nieces and nephews, both biological and spiritual, for those amazing kids whose lives I get to be a part of on a daily basis:

• Someone who loves Jesus more than you. Marc Hooks loves me better than life, but he does not love me more than he loves Jesus. And maybe that doesn't match up with what the world tells you 'real love' is all about, but the world is messed up, and you shouldn't listen to it. That guy or girl who loves Jesus more than anything is going to love you out of the overflow of that relationship. And I can promise you--you're going to be better loved out of that overflow than anything the world can even begin to imagine.
• Someone who lives life to the fullest, but has an eye on the future. It's okay to love right now. I've loved my life, and every season has something great about it. But that person who always has an eye on the future, on what God is calling you to, on where you might be ten years from now--he or she is less likely to make stupid mistakes in your relationship, mistakes that cannot be undone or taken back. That person is going to value you, your purity--and their own.
• Someone who is working on being the person you would fall in love with. The girl or guy who knows what kind of person they want to marry someday also knows that they need to be the person THAT person would love. Do you want to marry a Godly, spiritually mature person? Then strive to be a Godly, spiritually mature person.
• Someone who will think you are the most wonderful person alive. I am NOT the most wonderful, nor the most beautiful, talented, or smartest person out there. But don't tell Marc, because he's never stopped believing that in 23 years of marriage. He is my biggest cheerleader, and in moments of real self-doubt, it's good to have the person who knows you best like you the most. That person is going to bring you sunflowers just because, cook your favorite dinner as a surprise, and learn to love what you love just to spend time with you.
• Someone who is not afraid to be different from the rest of the world. If you spend your life trying to keep up with the Jones', you're going to have a long and fairly miserable life. But if you share a sense of calling, of God having a true purpose for your life, of what marriage really is and should be...it won't ever matter how much money you make or where you live or what you drive. Walking headlong into God's plan for you might not look 'normal' by the world's standards, but it is the only thing to do by God's standards.
• Someone who will make you laugh. Marriage is not always butterflies and unicorns. Many days, marriage is very hard work. And so, on those days and during those seasons of darkness and difficulty, nothing is better than laughter. It's balm for the wounded soul. Marc makes me 'old geezer laugh,' which is what my kids call it when I laugh so hard that I don't make any sound. You can either cry or laugh during dark days--and it's always better to laugh. 

 Beyond choosing Jesus, there is no more important decision than who you will--or won't--spend your life with. I'm praying for all the kids I love that they will make that decision prayerfully, and that God will bless them with a marriage that enriches their lives in ways they can't imagine. My marriage has done that for me. I could have been a very happy single person. But God knew that my best life was with Marc. And there isn't a day--even the bad days--that I don't thank God for the gift of my marriage and that amazing man I get to call mine. Wherever you are in the world, and whatever your marital status is, I pray that your relationship with Jesus is the most important in your life, and that you are sipping hot Russian tea on a damp, chilly day, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Never say never

This was our last view of Hannah as we prepared to leave BFA: with her friends, making new friends, going together into a new adventure. I'm still at the stage where I cry every time I see this picture, but it is such solace to me. 

Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, and spend a year there and engage in business and make a profit." Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away. Instead, you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we will live and so do this or that." James 4: 13-15

You knew, of course, that I would eventually write about Hannah's leaving. I knew I would, too, but I didn't know exactly what it would look like, what angle I would approach it from, what I would have to say. Hence, I waited until the leaving was done, because the leaving was pretty terrible. Terrible for me--not for her. She struggled to leave us, and especially to leave her brother, but she wasn't really leaving--she was going. Not running from one thing, but to another. And there is a lot of happiness in that, isn't there? And so, now that we are back from Germany, now that she is somewhat settled, now that we have talked to her and know how things are going, now I can write about it. But to be honest, it's a different view than I thought it would be.

Have you ever had to eat your words? I have. Lots of times. When we were engaged, and my sisters' children were five little stairsteps of crazy and chaos, running around like mad people (they all turned out great, but it was really loud there for a while), I can remember saying to Marc, "Our kids won't act like that." Yeah. I was that snotty, superior person--don't those always seem to be people without kids? Of course, I had kids, and they were exactly like that--sweet, wonderful, but also completely nuts. Loud didn't even begin to describe our lives when John entered into the mix. LOUD. CHAOS. Of course, by then my nieces and nephews were teenagers, and they rolled their eyes (probably) and said to themselves, "My kids will never act that way." And my sisters, much to their credit, never said a word, because they are two of the classiest, kindest people on earth. But I had to eat my words.

I also said, "I could never be a missionary." You see how that turned out. I've also had lots of people--even very close friends--who have said, "I could never do what you do." And my response is always the same: if God called you to it, you absolutely could. We aren't the super-saved. We don't especially adore sacrifice. We just heard clear direction from God, and we said, 'yes.' (Okay, at first we said, "What? Have You met us?!?!" But then we said, 'Yes.') And there are a thousand more examples of words I've had to eat--classes I would never teach (but did), situations I would never put myself or my family in (but did), things I would absolutely never do (but absolutely ended up doing).
 And then there came a stage where we decided not to say never, because sometimes that seemed like an invitation to God to have us do exactly that. That's pretty crummy theology, isn't it? First of all, my use of a word or non-use of it doesn't direct the hand of the Almighty. Silliness. And we said it always as a joke, but underneath, I think there was a sense of not wanting to end up doing something we didn't want to do. I feel ridiculous even typing that, because really--our theology is better than that. It's just something that kind of crept into our lives without us paying attention to it.

Then, of course, there is the "I could never send my kid to a boarding school. I simply could not do it. Never." Since I just dropped my kid off at boarding school, you see how that went. Given a set of circumstances in which boarding school was not only clearly the best thing for her, but also clearly God's will for her, this particular 'never' is hard to eat. Not because I didn't want her to go to boarding school, though I honestly didn't. Not because I was embarrassed that we felt it was the right option, because I wasn't. But because of the arrogance that is implied in that 'never' and every other one I've said here. The sentence that starts, "I would never" really ends with "because I know best." And you know what? I so don't know best. I really don't. As if my plan--for my life, for my family, for my kids--is somehow far superior to God's plan for them. Even when that plan involves being in another country from me, even when that plan means being on a different continent than I am, even when that plan involves suffering on their part and mine (because when my kids suffer, I suffer)--His plan is always best. 100% of the time. He never fails. He is forever faithful in His love and mercy and compassion to me and mine and you and yours. I'm learning--even as I cry every time I go into her room--to place myself and my family in the palm of the Almighty. It means relinquishing control. It means admitting I don't know best. It means trusting Him with those most precious to me. It means believing that His lovingkindness endures forever and is unfailing and unwavering. I believe Him to be trustworthy, friends. I've tasted and seen His goodness. I trust Him, even when His plan doesn't look like mine.

It helps, of course, that she's happy. That our conversations are full of new friends and great teachers and funny stuff from the dorm. It helps that so, so many people have sent us messages, encouraging us, loving on us, holding us up. It helps that as we said goodbye, we were absolutely surrounded by people we love, colleagues from our organization, people who wrapped us in their arms, cried with us, checked on us, loved us. And it helps that we know our God loves our Nan far more than we are even capable of, and that we have the privilege of watching Him turn her into the woman He created her to be. And if that is not the most spectacular and wonderful part of parenting, I don't know what is. I love watching my kids grow into who they are made to be. Amazing. Daunting. Inspiring.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that when your plan and God's plan don't match, you always choose God's plan, and that you are going for a walk in your beautiful neighborhood with your beloved this morning, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye