Sisterhood

The love, y'all. The love I have for these incredible people. I cannot even explain it.

Ultimately, sisterhood is a soft place to land, and we can send each other out with full blessings knowing we can safely come home to one another. I want to be ever for you, and you for me. --Jen Hatmaker, For the Love
Well, hello! It's been a while since I've written anything--well, since February, to be exact. Lots going on. Lots to do. Lots of thinking and pondering before I was ready to write anything. Things in Texas are wonderful. We are loving our first Texas experience. (I haven't been to Texas since about 1990. So...there's that.) We are happy with our church here, the house is wonderful, John loves school, Hannah is settled in Mobile, and Sarah Beth and DJ are figuring out adult life in Arkansas pretty well. So that's the update.

If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you know that I am reading (actually, I finished it this morning) Jen Hatmaker's newest book, For the Love. It is a wonderful read. Some really deep, thoughtful pieces on various subjects (it's basically a book of essays, which really appeals to me), but also some chapters that are so laugh-out-loud funny that I old-geezer laughed and forced Marc to listen as I read them aloud. I know he loved it. Really.

I love the book. I'm partial to Jen Hatmaker, who graduated from my alma mater, Oklahoma Baptist University, though several years after I did. I get her humor. I share some of her passions. (I would never attempt home renovation. Never. I am wayyyyy too type A for that business.) But I think the thing I loved about the book the most were the things she had to say about women and community. Since I am watching Hannah form what will become some of her greatest friendships in life at University of Mobile, and since I am at a point in my own life where I deeply, deeply value friendships with women, I found Hatmaker's thoughts on sisterhood relevant to my own life.

If you read the news on the Christian front, you know that our company is downsizing by at least 600-800. Tough times, to be sure. Even worse, uncertain times. (I can face whatever hardship is in front of me. But NOT KNOWING???? Seriously enough to drive me a little nuts.) This is not really a post about that situation, because I know nothing. Really, guys. I'm not being coy. No idea what the future holds. (Yes, yes. I know Who holds the future. If you're an eighties kid who grew up in an evangelical church, can you help but hear that song?) But certainly, no one in the IMB is immune to the pressure and stress that come with this kind of upheaval. Even if it doesn't impact you personally at the moment (we, for example, are too young for the voluntary retirement incentive being offered), it is impacting everyone who knows and loves anyone in the organization. That's not an opinion. That is a fact. Period.

In the midst of all this uncertainty and stress, though, I am deeply grateful for an abundance of community and sisterhood in my life right now. I have mentioned often that I am an introvert, and that I am not a huge group person. I was never the most popular girl in class, and I was never very concerned with that. The pattern of two or three really close friends in my life has always really worked for me. But at this moment, sitting in McKinney, Texas, I find myself with so much united sisterhood. Of course, it doesn't hurt that my actual sister lives a few miles away, plus my other sister who, if I said two words (please come), would be here in a heartbeat. And my mother, too, is right here. So yes, I have that going for me, here. But I also have this amazing group of women in the North Dallas area, friends from college days, who are providing a community I didn't even know I'd have here (or would need so desperately at this moment). Women I love and have loved for 30 years. Women I respect. Strong women. Thinkers. Challengers. People who make me better. Who wouldn't want those kinds of friendships?

And then there are my IMB sisters. You know who you are. You have been my family for eight years. We have shared just about everything there is to share: laughter, tears, transition, growing children, hurting husbands, changing roles, even death. I have spoken to so many of my IMB women over the last week. So many. Especially that small circle who are just deeply, deeply connected to one another. And though we are all hurting, and we are all separated by various distances, the love and the united front of absolute support for one another...amazing. Enough to make this transplanted Floridian shed a few tears of thankfulness instead of stress. Enough to know that we will get through this moment, this season...together.

It's easy for me to turn in on things, on situations, and mull and fret. That is my go-to stance, unfortunately. But with every phone call, private messsage, email, and lunch, the women in my life are helping me look around at the grace and mercy and compassion that are available to me. They are helping me be grateful for every strong, sustaining friendship I have, no matter where that friend might live. (Amazing the glory of being on the same continent, btw. Even Florida to Texas doesn't seem that far when you can just send a snarky, funny text. Right, Janet?) They are doing for me what women have historically done for each other: supported, encouraged, cheered on to the end. I'm grateful for that kind of sisterhood, aren't you? May the God of everything encourage you today to love the women around you a little harder, a little better, and may you, too,  be amazed at the remarkable size of chickens in the U.S. :)  Blessings to you and yours.

His,
Kellye

Thank you, Miss Lee

Before I begin, let me warn regular readers (I'm not a regular poster, lately, so I'm not sure you can be a regular reader) that this has nothing to do with missions or my overseas life, which are the general topics of this blog. Instead, this is inspired by the news yesterday that Harper Lee, author of To Kill a Mockingbird (TKAM), is publishing a new book for the first time in 55 years. And while I have opinions and concerns about the new book, Go Set a Watchman, and I'm genuinely nervous about its publication, this is really more about TKAM and the way it has intertwined with my own life. It's a thank you note to Miss Lee from someone who deeply loves her book.

Of course, many of you know that I have spent much of my adult life as an English teacher, which means I've taught TKAM too many times to count. I've watched children (you may be taller than I, but if you're in my class, you're still a child) who loved no other books love this one. One of my favorite teaching stories--all teachers have teaching stories, of beloved students, difficult students, funny colleagues--is from early in my career, when I taught in a small county in central Georgia. The district office had passed a rule that we could not ask students to buy books, because it was a terribly poor county, and parents simply didn't have the money to buy luxuries like books. I was teaching tenth grade, and I had 30 kids per class and about 20 copies of TKAM--and no budget to buy any more. So my wonderful husband put my favorite rocker in his pickup truck, drove it to the school, and placed it in my room. For the next week or so, students brought in blankets and pillows, sat on my floor, and I sat in the rocker and read TKAM to them aloud. When we got to the part of the book in which Scout finds out that Tom Robinson is dead, a gross injustice, one student cried out, "Oh, dear God, NO!" There were distinct sniffles from big old country boys whose shotguns were in their trucks because they hunted before school every day. (Remember--this was pre-Columbine and security measures it inspired.) Black, white, hispanic--it did not matter. I saw firsthand the power of that book to make students look at each other differently. From then on, I made sure to teach it whenever possible.

It is a book my own children love. Sarah Beth, in particular, has always treasured the book. It might be because her Daddy told her that Momma wanted to name her Scout after the main character. It might be because she was raised in the South. One of her treasures from her time overseas was a copy of the book she found in a Kiev flea market, published in the late 1960s in Kiev, which of course was part of the CCCP at the time. Even yesterday, she was excited/nervous about its publication, and said one of the things I loved the most in our discussion of the new book on my facebook page: One day, there will be a whole new set of people. But Scout will always be there. She will always be dressed up like a ham. Forever. Clearly, I have done something right as a mother. :)

But really, my love affair with this book is its impact on my own life. My aunt reminded me yesterday that, though we want to see Miss Lee as Scout, she herself has said that she is really Boo, the reclusive, silent protector of the children. While Miss Lee might not see herself as Scout, I certainly see myself as Scout and always have. Having grown up with very Southern parents and being from a very Southern family, I saw so much in this book that I understood from my own experiences. I knew what the small-town South looked like, smelled like, sounded like. I understood the crazy cast of characters that inhabits every Southern town. The overalls, playing ridiculous games, wandering the neighborhood, being told to respect my elders...these were all things I understood and knew deeply. But it was in Scout's love and adoration for her father, Atticus, that I most identified with this fictional character. 

I spent every summer in my hometown of Clarksville, Tennessee, with my beloved grandparents. My grandfather, John Matthews, was a man deeply respected in his community. I thought he was just another man with apple and peach orchards until I was about 10, when I discovered that "Mr. John" had been a beloved teacher, principal, and superintendent of schools. I was in college when I discovered that my darling Papa had been the superintendent during segregation, and had given deep respect and love to the black students as he did the white students. (On a historical note, my mother attended Wilma Rudolph's basketball games as a child, because she went with her father, who was superintendent at the time. If you don't know who Wilma Rudolph is, please look her up.) And while all these things were amazing to me, especially as someone who became an educator, it was his treatment of all people who came to pick up apples and peaches during those childhood summers, his respect and sense of value for everyone, regardless of race or the ability to pay...it was this legacy that made me proudest.  That he raised children in the heart of the South without prejudice and with love and respect for all people...nothing short of miraculous. 

And, of course, there is my own father. His life is a tale of hard work, discipline, and being the hands and feet of Jesus in the marketplace. He has commanded respect in business and church circles my whole life, but to me, he was just Daddy. As I grew older, and I began to know and understand the things that were non-negotiables in his life--an incredible sense of ethics and morals that were intertwined with his love of business and played out in practical ways every day--I made it my goal to also be that kind of person: willing to do the right things even when they are the hard things. I saw him make choices again and again that were for the good of others--those who worked under him or his family or his church--and often, those choices were not the popular and certainly not the easiest ones. My Daddy and my Papa: they are and were Atticus. I know what it is to be Scout--to love and be loved by remarkable, upstanding men, to stand with others because my "Daddy is passing." (Yes, my favorite line of the entire book. I cried typing it.) Yes, it is this above all else that makes me love TKAM.

It is no secret that I love books. And I love many books with which I don't identify--because of their craft, their nuance, the stories they tell. But this book reminds me how proud I am of my much-loved  father and grandfather, of being from the South and all that entails and means to me personally, of those things my parents worked so hard to instill in us--love of God, of family, of others. Non-negotiables. Absolute truth in an age when many believe it doesn't exist. So thank you, Miss Lee, for this incredible book that has so touched my life and millions and millions of others. No matter what this new book has for us, TKAM has created  a world in which we can remember what it is to climb into someone else's shoes and walk around in them for a while. That there's really only one kind of folks. Folks. And that, dear lady, is a joy and a privilege. Thank you.

It is well

Happy 2015 from the Hooks Family!

It is well
With my soul.
It is well,
It is well,
With my soul.

Well, hello there, and happy new year! I had every intention of updating this blog before now, but the stomach flu hit John and me pretty hard, and it has taken us a while to recover. All is well here in Vienna, and in the other countries where our family resides, and we're looking forward to a year that will see ministry, some travel for us, and the beginning of our Stateside Assignment in July. We are really looking forward to some time with friends and family, eating American food, and refreshing our souls a bit through some concentrated rest. We hope all of you are looking forward to a year in which God does some amazing things that you could not have predicted if you'd tried, where you know Him more and understand who you are in Him, and that you get to eat some chik-fil-a this year, too.

I love music. I really love all music. Ok, there's some I probably don't like, but I do listen to a variety of music styles and genres, and I generally love an eclectic blend. But lately, I am just hooked on hymns. They really are the soundtrack of my faith life in so many ways. "Have Thine own way, LORD" and "My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness" and "O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be" could describe where my soul is at any given moment. And if you don't have a copy of Chris Rice's hymn album, you must get it and listen to it. I listen to it nearly every morning as I make John's breakfast. It's just an amazing collection that really stands the test of time. (I think it came out in 2005 or 2006.) You could ask me to name my favorite hymn, and I would tell you something different every time. I love "Great is Thy Faithfulness" so much--in tough times, dark seasons, what joy and comfort to be reminded that "there is no shadow of turning with Thee/Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not/As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be."  And what greater truth in my life is there than "I once was lost/but now am found/was blind, but now I see"? There is such great theology in these treasured songs, and I love them (and hum them to myself) so much. But lately, none has meant more to me than "It is Well with my Soul."

There are so many people/families/situations in transition right now in the lives around me. Changing jobs, locations, sick relatives and beloved ones, death, new ministry, changes in old ministry--if there is a theme in the lives around me for the last six months or so, it would be uncertainty. And if we're all honest, uncertainty is a part of our every day lives, even without big events and traumatic losses. Will I get the promotion? Will we have enough money to pay our bills? How will we _____________? These are questions we all ask ourselves and God daily. Uncertainty is just a fact of life. None of us knows, do we? What's next, what's best, what's happening that we can't control? And as a Christian, I must also factor in what will God do about this or that situation? How will He step in? Is He going to save the day? And what do I do if He doesn't? What if His will and purpose for my/our life looks different than I thought or even wanted? What then?

This was brought home to me so beautifully in a blog written by my friend, Jennifer. (You should look her up at thisgalsjourney.wordpress.com.) In the post, she describes washing dishes and praying about situations in her life over which she has no control. Like so many of us, the enemy whispers, "What if God doesn't?" over these situations and people she loves. And her answer to each of the enemy's lies begins with, "Even if He doesn't..." Even if He doesn't heal my friend, I will still praise Him. He is still God, still in control, still the great I am...even if He doesn't do or act in the way I want. Even if that has consequences for me that I don't want or need or know how I'll deal with, I will praise Him. And isn't that exactly what "It Is Well with my Soul" says? It is well with my soul, even if I don't understand. Even if my kids struggle or my parents are sick. It is well with my soul, because He is still on the throne, He still loves me, He is exactly who He said He is. Even when I don't understand. Even when I struggle. It is well with my soul.

That sounds pretty, doesn't it? Singing a happy tune, regardless of the situation. I'd love for that to be true, but it isn't. Is it for you? Maybe you're superhuman Christian person, but I'm just Kellye--a truly chipped and cracked pot of clay with a great big God. And sometimes, I have to say, "It is well with my soul" with my teeth clenched and my neck turning red. (That's my 'tell' when something is wrong--Marc will say, "What are you thinking?" or "What's got you upset?" based on the red color around my neck.) Because what I'm really doing often is not so much singing about how I feel but about what I know to be the truth. I do not always feel like things are well with my soul. But I know Him, and I know that ultimately, things will be well. Maybe not in the way I wanted or hoped or dreamed, but they will be well. He has kept every promise He ever made to me. He isn't going to stop now. So while my circumstances might not feel great, and I may want to rock back and forth in the fetal position as I worry over this situation or that, I know this to be the absolute truth: The God of EVERYTHING loves me. He knows my name. He knows my situation. And He will never leave me nor forsake me. He promised. I am not alone. So it may not feel well with my soul. But it is well with my soul, anyway. Even if He doesn't do or act the way I think He will or should. Even if.

It's time for me to get moving. My guy is on his way home to me, and I have some cleaning to do before he gets here--and a giant pork roast to make pulled pork for his first dinner home. (He's been at his Mom and Dad's house between meetings--I'm sure he's had some good food, so I'd better keep up with a great dinner to welcome him home, right?) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that it is well with your soul, regardless of your circumstances, and that your beloved is headed home to you, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye