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

Living Like We Mean It

I know, I know! I'm right on the line of being a crazy cat lady. But seriously--how cute is our kitty in a basket?!?!

Christmas in Vienna with my sweet friend, Ksenia!

This is what my teaching bag looks like--candy, cookies, stuffed animals--no wonder I get very interested looks when I carry it around Vienna!

But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

This is one of my all-time favorite, go-to verses in the Bible. I have several verses that I whisper to myself over and over, words of faith and perseverance and assurance of God's love that have gotten me through many dark days and bright, sunny days, too. And maybe it seems weird to say this, since it's a verse about Christ's death and not His birth, but it is the essence of Christmas to me.  And as I go through my ordinary, daily life, and certainly as I look at the news and see so many hurting people around the world, I'm more convinced than ever that what we really need is a little Christmas: a little hope, a little Light, a little love.

I am not necessarily a fan of Christian catchphrases. Oh, don't get me wrong--I believe that God is good all the time, and all the time God is good. So maybe, what I'm not a fan of is catchphrases that become just words and don't inform the lives of believers. If I say that God is good all the time, then even when times are terrible, He's still good, right? And I should silence the whining and complaining that I'm prone to do, right? But do I do that? If I don't, then my little catchphrase is just one more thing an unbelieving world is looking at and holding against the Savior who loves them. How many times have you talked to people who say they don't like Christians because they are hypocrites? Guess what? They're right. All too often, Christians are hypocrites. Of course, so are people who don't believe. It's just that Christians set themselves up to be held to a higher standard and then fall short again and again and again.

So what in the world does that have to do with Christmas? He came, even though He knew what it meant for Him. He came to die for us. He came even though He knew how stinky we were. He came for everyone. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. If we apply that to every situation in our world, doesn't that make a huge difference in how we look at it? Instead of us vs. them, doesn't it just become all of us, together? You may think one thing, and I may think another about some issue, but if we truly saw each other through the prism of God's sacrificial love for us, wouldn't that change how we dealt with each other? Wouldn't we care more about people, about situations, about every widow and orphan and 'least of these' if we truly understood that we are each the reason He came to die? I have to believe we would.

Sunday ends the week of prayer for international missions for Southern Baptists. I love the stories and pictures and testimonies of the way God is at work around the world, of people who are coming to know Him through the work of people I love very much. As I contemplate Christmas, as I contemplate what it means in a practical sense that God demonstrated His own love for me in Christ's death and resurrection, as I pray for the nations, may my overarching prayer be always this: Lord, help me to love like You love. Help me to be more like You. Break my heart for what breaks Yours. Let me live a life given over to Your plan, even when that plan seems crazy and impractical and just plain hard. In a world of darkness and despair, help me to live a life that shines Your light in real, practical ways--by kindness and love and compassion for the everyday, real people who daily walk beside me. Amen. Amen.

As believers in the Savior of the whole world, may we all live a life deeply informed by His love for each of us this Christmas. May we treasure the people He has put in our lives in tangible ways, with words and actions that show His irrational, extravagant love for all of us. May we live out our faith like we mean it.  Blessings to you and yours, and merry, merry Christmas!

His,
Kellye

Every Season

Why yes, that is my cute little napkin holder from Salzburg that Tashie has turned into her bed. And yes, she has pushed it up as close to the tree as possible. It's good to be the Tashinator.

It must be Christmas time--the cookie cutters are out and ready to use.

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. Hebrews 13:8

It's a cold, gray Saturday here in Vienna, Austria. John has already left to work at the U.N. Bazaar for women and children, an annual event that raises money for U.N. projects around the world aiding women and children. It's actually a pretty cool event, with food from all over the world and all kinds of things to see and buy. It's packed every year, but I have no idea how much money it raises. John and I enjoyed a very quiet Thanksgiving together, with Hannah in Germany and Marc and Sarah Beth and DJ in Arkansas. We did skype with the folks in Arkansas, and that was fun. It was kind of a blue day. I haven't celebrated Thanksgiving without Marc in 25 years. I didn't think about that as I made plans for him to be in Arkansas. It hit me a little harder than I thought it would. Thanksgiving is just hard, frankly. It's such an American holiday, isn't it? I mean people all over the world celebrate Christmas. But Thanksgiving and July 4th are, at least for me, the hardest holidays to celebrate from overseas. 

I spent the day before Thanksgiving working on turkey-shaped cookies to send to the teachers at John's school. I thought it would be fun to have little turkeys to eat, and I have the BEST sugar cookie recipe on earth, so I really enjoy making them. (They turn out kind of thick and flaky, if that makes sense.) Any time I pull out my cookie cutters, I smile as I think back to that first Christmas overseas, when we'd only been in Moscow a couple of months, and I realized to my horror that I did not own a single cookie cutter with which to make Christmas cookies. That seems like a little thing, I know. But I think for me it symbolized every hard thing about my life--Russian language lessons, homeschooling three kids, living in a very cold and snowy city, and going from a pretty small town in Florida to a city of about 15 million in Russia. I missed my parents, my sisters, my job, my friends, my students...all the things I thought made me...well, me. And cookie cutters became a symbol of that feeling of absolute lostness that so permeated my soul that Christmas season. 

Of course, as a friend told me it would, things got better. They absolutely got better. And in comparison to that first Christmas season overseas, my little blue feelings on Thanksgiving were nothing. But it was a good reminder to me that except for Jesus, everything changes. There are things about that first Christmas season overseas that I would not want for all the world. But there are also things I'd give my left arm to have again: my family all in one apartment, rather than spread across three countries on two continents; the folks we love so dearly from that season of life, who are now scattered in so many directions; our whole overseas life stretched out in front of us, with no clue as to how many goodbyes we would say over the years...there was certainly culture shock that first Christmas in Moscow, but there was also a great deal of love and friendship in our lives, too. We were at the beginning of deep friendships that remain foundational for us as we continue this overseas life. There was a sweetness to that era. 

If you had asked me at the time, though, I would have snarkily told you that there wasn't a single good thing about my life in Moscow. Two months in, and deep in the midst of Russian language that I just was struggling with so much, I didn't feel very Christmasy. But isn't that the way things go? In our family, if you start the sentence, "Emotions are..." someone will finish it with, "liars." It is the number one lesson we learned as a family in our first term overseas. I may feel like this is an awful season, or a great season, but the truth is probably somewhere in the middle. Good things happen. Bad things happen. But the truth of who Jesus is and who I am in Him...that never changes. He is who He says He is. And I am who He says I am. Regardless of how I feel or don't feel. Regardless of what the world says, I can rest in the comfort that whether it's a great season, a terrible season, or more likely, somewhere in between, His love for me doesn't change. He doesn't change. He is the same--yesterday, today, and forever. That's good news, whatever my circumstances.

So how does that impact my every day life? Well, I've stopped wishing my time away. I am looking forward to time with my parents next Thanksgiving in Texas, where we'll be on STAS, but I also enjoyed a fun time with my favorite 13-year-old guy this year. (Trust me, with one married, one graduating from high school, and one about to start high school, I am all too aware of the fleeting nature of time. No time to wish for tomorrow or yesterday, because today will be gone too quickly for this Momma!) I've learned to look around and enjoy the blessings and opportunities of today. We never know when the seasons will change, goodbyes will come, and this will be a memory. But we can rest in the knowledge that though things may change, Jesus never does. 

Today is a full day, so I'd better get moving. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are enjoying this season in the full knowledge of who Jesus is, and that your team is not heading into rivalry weekend with a somewhat checkered season behind them. Go Gators! Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Trying to be more like Bob

This is how I see most things--there's the scenery, and then there's Marc taking pictures of the scenery or looking at his camera to figure out what settings would be best.

Beautiful Schönbrunn from behind the fountain on the hill. We'd never been as tourists until friends came this week. So beautiful--and the history of the Habsburgs...fascinating!

For the despairing man there should be kindness from his friend; so that he does not forsake the fear of the Almighty. Job 6:14

I read this in my Bible study this week, and the question I was supposed to answer was, "What did Job's friends do wrong? How did they bruise him?" If you're unfamiliar with the story of Job, he basically lost everything but his life as he was tested by Satan (with God's permission). His friends, well, they gave him a lot of what we might call church talk in response to his misfortune, none of which was very kind. And that was my answer--in a time of real sorrow and tragedy, they were unkind, thoughtless, and unfeeling.

Before we're too hard on Job's friends, let's admit that we've all been there. Something terrible--truly tragic--happens, and we say all the wrong stuff, mostly because we don't know what to say. When my friend, Kimmie's, daughter was tragically killed in a horrific car crash this spring, people said really stupid stuff. Seriously. I had second-hand shame for them. Worse, they said stuff that wasn't Biblically sound and hurtful. I'm convinced (and so is she) that no one meant to hurt her. Everyone was trying to ease her pain--and their own. But in the midst of crisis, some people said the wrong stuff.

The exact opposite of Job's friends was our pastor, Bob Patterson, when Marc and I found ourselves in the midst of real trauma leading up to Sarah Beth's birth. The short version is that in about the 6 1/2 month mark in my pregnancy, out of nowhere my blood pressure sky rocketed. My doctor, looking ashen and worried, sent me home to Warm Springs, Georgia, giving me a list of symptoms to call about immediately, and telling me to stay on my left side and not move. Seriously. Of course, if you've been pregnant, you know that I had pre-eclampsia. (I had it with all three children. Hence, I only have three children.) Two days later, with the admonition to not even stop for gas, I found myself in the hospital, which would be my home for the next two months. Yes, you read that correctly. The next two months. Every morning started with my doctor (who postponed his wedding and honeymoon until after she was safely born) saying, "Well, we won't take her this morning, but probably this afternoon." Every afternoon found him saying, "Well, not tonight, but probably tomorrow." This went on for two months, until my body had done what it could and he delivered her.

Now, twenty-two years later, I can tell you a thousand hilarious stories about this time in the hospital. Marc and the doctor filling gloves with water and throwing them at nurses out my window. Marc almost blowing up the hospital by lighting candles for Valentine's Day. I have a million of these. And I have wonderful stories of people who were so incredible to us, took care of us, loved us, and encouraged us. And yes, I can tell you not-so-funny stories of people who, like Job's friends, didn't always say the right things. We were asked what we'd done to make God mad at us. We were told that we just didn't have enough faith, and that's why this was scary to us. But the point of this post is to tell you about Bob.

He came every week I was in the hospital, usually on Thursdays. He came in, sat with us, told us jokes, brought us treats from our church, and loved us. He did pray with us, but only after he asked, and never touching me. (I am not a toucher. Unless you're basically my family, I feel weird about touching you or you touching me.) He did NOT say that everything would be fine, and we would all be ok--because he didn't know that. The doctor didn't know that, either. (He'd just lost someone in childbirth to the same disease, making him even more cautious than normal.) He didn't tell us God had a plan, because he knew that we were aware of that. He didn't tell us God wouldn't give us more than we could handle, because that was obviously and blatantly untrue. (At 23 and 24, we were 100% unable to handle anything that was happening to us. Trust me on this. Only by God's grace and help did we not lose our minds.) He did not offer platitudes or church speak that we did not need to hear. He did tell us that our little town (population 400 in 1992) was praying for us and loving us. He did tell us funny stories of the local characters. He did make us laugh. And sometimes, in moments of real sorrow, he just sat with us in silence, offering his presence, his encouragement, but knowing that words were not needed or useful. He did every single thing right. And when she was born, and she was only in the NICU for a few days--he rejoiced with us, celebrating that God's plan looked like we had hoped it would.

I want to be more like Bob. In times of trouble, I want to know what to say and when not to say anything at all. I want to guard against telling people things that sound good, but aren't the truth. Most of all, I want to love people really well. Because in the end, that's what he did. He loved us really well, and all these years later, we still smile at the mention of his name. He brought glory to God and helped us not to be angry at God for a plan that we did not understand. He taught us a thousand things about mature faith without telling us he was teaching us anything. I'm thankful for his guidance through a really traumatic season of our lives. I'm also thankful that Sarah Beth and I both survived and regained our health, and that I was able to survive the next two pregnancies with babies who eventually thrived. God is good in all situations--even the ones we don't understand.

Well, friends, there is so much on my to-do list that I'd better get going. I pray that you are blessed with a Bob in your life, someone who loves you well and leads you to know God just a little better. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

What 2014 Kellye would tell 2007 Kellye

Summer, 2007, right before we left the States for the first time. My kids are going to kill me for this one. :)

Our very first team, November, 2007, somewhere outside of Moscow.

The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness. Psalm 103:8
Leg grace abounding be our hourly song in the house of our pilgrimage. --C. H. Spurgeon

Yesterday was the seventh anniversary of the day we stepped foot on Russian soil to start our overseas life. Coincidentally, it was also the day we picked up our Austrian visas, which we're very happy to have in hand. As I thought about that day seven years ago, I also thought about the things I've learned in the last seven years, and what I wish I'd known seven years ago. Here are just a few:

Everywhere is hard. We know from our experiences and the experiences of those we love all over the world--every place is hard. Your place isn't any harder or easier than any other place. It might be in terms of living (Austria is, after all, quite western, and the culture isn't a huge shock to our systems), but no place that's thousands of miles from home and family is easy. You may acclimate (praise God!), but every place has its own trials and tribulations. Perfect doesn't exist.

Everywhere is lovable. In the same way that every place is hard, every place has something about it to love. We have lived in three very different cultures, and we've loved the places and the people regardless of trials and hardships. Beauty is everywhere, and people are people. They might have different cultures and traditions, but every people has something about them that is endearing and lovable. You might have to look a little harder for some, but we have favorite things about each of the places and peoples we have loved over the last seven years.

Michael W. Smith was right. Every eighties kid who went to church will get that reference. :) It turns out that friends ARE friends forever if the Lord's the Lord of them! We were in Switzerland this past week with some of the people closest to us in the world. Distance is virtually meaningless. It might take some effort if you don't live just over the hill from each other, but it's worth the effort. And those relationships are life-giving. There is no underplaying the importance of friendships, no matter where on the planet the friends reside.

Bitterness isn't anyone's color. It's such an easy trap to fall into--something happens, you get mad, you hold onto the grudge forever. You rehearse what you would say if given the chance--hurtful, mean, awful things that would make the other person feel as bad as they made you feel. C'mon. Tell the truth--we've all been there. But it looks awful on everyone. Nobody's life is enhanced by bitterness. It doesn't bring us closer to God, to others, or edify the Kingdom in any way. Plus, it's a yucky way to spend your time and energy. Better to leave it alone.

Miss Louise was right. My sisters' teacher, Miss Louise, used to say, "Take care of yourself, and you got a mighty big job." True story.  More and more lately, I am convicted so much of my own sin, my own failings, my own shortcomings, that praying over them sure does take over all my time and energy. I am, it turns out, a mighty big job, all on my own. And when it comes time to answer for things, for the way life on earth was lived, I am 100% convinced that I will be answering for my own things--not someone else's. Better to spend my time praying to reflect Him more each day. It's a full-time job. :)

Great is His faithfulness. If I had to sum up the last seven years in one sentence, it would be that one. There is nothing I can do to earn His love, to make Him happy, to make Him love me more. He loves me in spite of knowing me intimately. He never breaks a promise. He never leaves me alone. He never forsakes me. He is with me no matter where I go. He knows me, but He loves me, anyway. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Amen.

I hope we never get over God inviting us to join Him on this incredible journey. We have seen some incredible places and things, gotten to know and love some truly wonderful people, and learned more and more every day about who He is and just how much He loves us. To each of you who've joined us, prayed for us, encouraged us, given to Lottie Moon so we could stay here--thank you. There aren't words for how much we love and appreciate you. To God be the glory--great things He has done!

His,
Kellye

OBU, All Hail Thy Name: How a Christian Liberal Arts College Shaped My Life

Hannah in gorgeous Mobile, Alabama, during her visit to the University of Mobile

Livin' the Burg life: it never ceases to tickle me that my European girl quickly finds her roots when she gets to the Burg--riding in trucks, wearing flip flops, and riding horses. We love our Burg family!

Through thick and thin and many, many years and miles, these two have remained devoted friends.

Lookin' like her momma many years back: Han at Kerr Dorm on the campus of Oklahoma Baptist University.

Mankind, He has told you what is good and what it is the LORD requires of you: to act justly, to love faithfulness, and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8


If you are our friends on facebook, you know the last two weeks have been big for Hannah: a visit with her sister, grandparents, aunt and uncle and cousins in Texas, followed by a visit to the University of Mobile, a week plus with her second family in our hometown of Middleburg, Florida, and then a visit yesterday to our alma mater, Oklahoma Baptist University. Of course, Marc and I would love to be able to take her on her campus visits, but we are so, so thankful for friends and family who are always willing to step in and help our kids get things done. Both college visits went really, really well, and we're very excited about what the future holds for our girl. We especially enjoyed phone calls and messages yesterday from OBU's campus, as she met old friends of ours (I wonder how many times she heard, 'I went to school with your parents!'), stayed in my sophomore-year dorm overnight, and walked the campus that so shaped our lives.

I am glad that Sarah Beth went to a small, Christian liberal arts school, and I'm glad those are the kinds of schools Hannah is looking at, too. There is NOTHING wrong (before I get all kinds of messages) with a big, state university education. Nothing. It's no secret that I am very proud of my graduate degree from the University of Florida (Go Gators!). I've done both--the small private college and the big state university. Both have their positives and negatives. But I can honestly say--and I am pretty sure Marc would agree--that besides, of course, my parents, little has had more impact on my life than my undergraduate education at OBU. Here are just a few ways OBU shaped my life.

• Knowing and being known: Even my core classes that everyone had to take--Old Testament, New Testament, Western Civ, etc.--were relatively small. My professors knew me. They didn't just know me by name--they KNEW me. They invested in me. I went to their houses for cookouts. They took me on poetry weekends (Dr. Joe Hall--the professor I most wanted to impress and who found me the least impressive student ever), told me stories about their dogs (Dr. Shirley Jones--who said our first Shakespeare papers were so terrible that she'd lined up her dogs and kicked their legs in her anger--she hadn't), made sure I was prepared for post-graduate exams needed for my teaching license (Dr. Laura Crouch), and told me life wouldn't end because I didn't fully understand transformational grammar, which is basically math with words (Dr. Jones again). Their job was to be the absolute best teachers they could be. And to do that, knowing us and investing in us was of primary importance. 
• A basic knowledge of the trends of history: It was dreaded by everyone (except me, because it was basically my major and minor in one class): Western Civ. Two semesters of wading your way through the literature and history of the western world. Who did you have for Civ? is a question every OBU alum knows to ask. (Jones and Farthing, then Farthing and Watson for me, in case you're interested.) Unlike some people who shall remain nameless (but whose name rhymes with park), I read and devoured every book, every bit of history in those two semesters. When I first started teaching English literature, I based many lesson plans off my Civ notes. And as I've settled my life in Europe for the past seven years, I see God using what I know about western culture to help me understand the places I've lived. 
• Preparation for life: Marc will absolutely tell you that the reason he is a media jack-of-all-trades is because he was trained at OBU, where you had to specialize (his specialty is in video production), but you also had to learn to do everything else in your field at least competently. Know why I'm well-read? Because I didn't have a choice. My professors were determined that those of us with English degrees could read and write and understand the nuances of words and syntax far beyond the level of mere competency. We had a 100% pass rate on the state teacher's exam for a reason: thorough (sometimes painfully so) preparation. Our professors, because they had small classes and were personally responsible for grading papers and exams, knew our strengths and weaknesses intimately. For every student whose paper I have ever marked--blame OBU, and know that my papers looked exactly like that until I improved. 
• Permission to fail: I was not great at everything. Spanish, for example. And I was less-than-gracious when I, for the very first time, failed a test. I'd never failed at anything. I didn't fail academically, as I informed my sweet, wise professor (Senora Pernalete) somewhat caustically. "Well, it seems you have failed this," was her response. Not unkindly, she pointed out that failure was part of learning just as much as success, especially when it comes to learning a language. Boy, oh boy, I couldn't know then what a theme of my life that would become as I learned first Russian and then German. She was right, by the way. Failure is a part of learning. 
• Friendships and family: We have deep friendships from our OBU years. It's wonderful to know all kinds of people, people who agree with you on things, people who don't--both are blessings. But those friendships from OBU are founded and based not only on a shared history (and many, many TBT pictures of really, really big hair), but also on the firm foundation of a love for Christ. A major part of our support system is those folks who have known us through thick and thin for the past 30 or so years. In the midst of all the work for Sochi, Marc received a note--much cherished--from the current president of OBU, simply telling him that the OBU family was proud of him. I cannot remember a week that we haven't received a note from someone from our OBU years telling us we were being prayed for. And when things are not going so well, when it's easy to think this life is one failure after another, someone from our OBU family picks us up, prays for us, holds our hand, and reminds us that they have known us longer than just about anyone, and they love us and believe in us. If you can find that kind of friendship, you should hold onto it tightly. Those friendships are precious treasures. 

Is it possible to get all those things at a big state university? Of course. But I didn't go to a big state university for my undergraduate degree. I went to Oklahoma Baptist University. I majored in English with a minor in history, I sang with the Bisonettes, I had best friends and sorority sisters, I learned to sing "Oklahoma" with even more gusto than in high school, I adored my professors, and I met the love of my life. Today, twenty-five years after graduation, OBU remains a support system and a daily influence on my life: how I study the Bible, how I read books, how I seek justice, work mercy, and walk humbly with my God. I'm profoundly blessed to be a Bison alum, and as Hannah picks her college, my only prayer is that she picks a place she will love and be shaped by like I love and was shaped by OBU. God bless OBU.

His,
Kellye

Face to Face with Bonhoeffer

Hannah and Brinley, who is quite the dramatic girl just like her cousin, Han.

SB and Brinley, who calls her Hannah, too. Brin is quite the character, by all accounts.

Once the expectation that obedience to God's commands will likely lead to suffering of one sort or another has been faced, is not much of the gobbledygook that passes for 'steps to the discernment of God's will' exposed as unchristian and irrelevant? Lurking beneath and behind so much that passes for the pursuit of God's will appears to be the pursuit of 'success' under the guise of words like 'effectiveness' or 'finding God's best.' -- Mark Devine, Bonhoeffer Speaks Today

Today is a little bit sad for us--Sarah Beth and Hannah's visit is over, and SB returns to Arkansas today. A little sad, just because they don't get to be together all the time, but also great, because SB really misses her DJ and Jughead. (Jughead is my grandkitten. He's quite a cutie pie.) They have had a wonderful visit. You see pictures of them with Brinley, my grandniece, who is hilarious. They have loved time with their 'little buddies,' Brinley and her brother, JJ (who is SB's best friend--just ask him). It's no secret that my family is very close, and I think we are all enjoying the chance for my parents to have their grandkids and great-grandkids in close proximity. SB heads back to Arkansas and her beloved today, and Han heads to Alabama and Florida starting Saturday. She'll be visiting the University of Mobile on Monday morning, which is a little surreal but also really exciting for all of us. And yes, she is visiting OBU on July 11th. :)

One of the most fascinating figures of the twentieth century has to be Dietrich Bonhoeffer. If you aren't familiar with his story, you should read Eric Metaxas' incredible biography of him. He was a German pastor, theologian, ethicist and yes, a spy. He worked with the Abwehr officers who plotted to assassinate Hitler. He was hanged in a concentration camp in 1945 for his involvement in the conspiracy. I've read several books about him, but I've come upon a new one that is making me chew on it a bit. It's not a particularly well-written book--maybe a seminary paper turned into a book?--but it is among the most thought-provoking things I've ever read. And indeed, well-written or not, the book makes it very clear that Bonhoeffer--his preaching, his ethics, his writings, his life--has quite a bit to say to the modern believer.

One of the things I've struggled with over the years is a feeling that my spiritual life is too academic, that I am missing out on some special revelation of God in emotional experiences with Him.  For me, the study of the Bible, the study of the commands of God and Jesus, significant time spent in writing and prayer--these are the things that inform my understanding of who Jesus is and what is required of me as His follower. One of the things I really like about the preaching at our Austrian church is that it is so focused on the word of God as it applies to our lives here and now, the things we face here and now. Our pastor does not add. He does not base his sermon on his own experience, though sometimes he adds that in as an anecdote. The basic thrust of his sermons is--this is what God's word says. What will we do with that? It's not that he's unemotional--he's very funny and clearly values a close relationship with God. It's not merely a cerebral exercise for him, nor is it for me. I do have deeply emotional moments with God, especially in worship, most often in music. While at a meeting a few weeks ago, a beautiful and incredibly simple song took me down. I mean, seriously--big, emotional waves of tears at one line--I am Your child. I am in need. Often at church, I have a deeply emotional reaction to the music. (Though I probably interrupt Marc's emotional moment by asking, "Do I know this in English?" which I do about EVERY SONG. Seriously--pray for him. He has a lot to put up with.) So it's not necessarily that I approach faith unemotionally. But the deep growing of my spiritual life does not happen in emotion. It happens in time with God, in study of His word. It happens based not on my experiences or circumstances, but based on what His word says about those experiences or circumstances.

So what does that have to do with Bonhoeffer? He did not place any faith in the idea of a 'special revelation' of God's will. His belief was that God presented us with His Word and His Son, and everything we need to know is there. Does God care what I eat today? Yes, because in His Word He clearly states that my body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, and so I should treat it well. Does He care whether I have the watermelon for lunch or the cantaloupe? Probably not, because neither violates His clear command that I treat my body well. That's a silly example, but one that illustrates the point I'm trying to make. Does God care where Hannah goes to college? Yes, because He cares about Hannah. Is there a 'wrong' choice for her, in terms of God's plan for her life? No, I don't think so. I don't believe God has one path only that's 'right' for your life, and if you miss the mark, somehow--go to the wrong school, marry the wrong person, etc.--that you've messed it up for eternity. I think there is discernment, of course. And there are clear parameters around our lives as believers--don't be tied to an unbeliever in marriage, don't profane God's name, don't lust after what is not yours--but within those parameters, in obeying God's commands, doing things God clearly created you to do, there is an incredible freedom. Does He lead? Yes, through His word. Is there some secret, special riddle I'm supposed to solve in order to know God's 'best'? That hasn't been my experience. He is good and loving and faithful, and His love endures forever. Those are things to take to the bank.

Of course, what's difficult is when you choose a path and find great pain along the way. It's tempting, isn't it, to think that clearly, you made the wrong choice. Because why would God want me to suffer? Well, friends, I have some good news and some bad news. The life of faith is one fraught with difficulty and suffering. Jesus tells us very clearly that in order to be His, we have to die to ourselves, take up our own crosses, and follow Him. Where did He go? A hill called Calvary, where they crucified Him. If that were the end of the story, it'd be a pretty awful story. But of course, it's not the end of the story, but the beginning. He conquered death. He rose again. And His victory over death, over the grave, is ours for the claiming--if we are His. That has to be the best news of all time. So we say yes--to suffering, to eternity, to joy in spite of circumstances--to Him. Not because He makes us feel giddy with emotion, though that happens sometimes. But because He is who He said He is--Messiah, Redeemer, Savior, Friend. Hallelujah and amen.

Bonhoeffer knew, by the way--he knew what would happen if he returned to Germany from America, where he was preaching and studying. He knew he was likely walking into his own death. But the God he found in Scripture, the Christ he knew intimately bid him come and die, and he did so with gusto and a clear conscience. That seems like insanity to a world in which looking out for our own interests is the number one priority. But if the Christian life is guided by the commands Jesus identified as most important: love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and soul, and love your neighbor as yourself--then it's the only decision that made sense. I pray that when those difficult decisions come my way in life that I make them based on the clear commands of Jesus in Scripture--and not on what my emotions say. Because emotions are unreliable at best and liars at worst. But the God of everything--He is truth and beauty and all things good.

It's time to exercise and clean the shower in Han's room. I know--the glamor of it all. I have an afternoon of fun planned with John, so the morning has to be spent taking care of the less than exciting tasks that have to get done. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are daily discovering the God of the Bible and His deep, deep love for you, and that you are going to a movie with your favorite 13-year-old, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Family is FOREVER

Well, hi there! Long time no see!!

The LORD's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

Hello! My name is Kellye Hooks. I live in Vienna, Austria. It's nice to meet you! :) Sorry I haven't written in quite a while. Honestly, we've just been running like crazy people in the last few months. Really, since we came back from Sochi--Marc has traveled nearly nonstop, which means the rest of life falls to me. And well...the rest of life, it turns out, takes up a lot of my time. So no big news, nothing terrible to report or great to report, no big announcement today--just a reflection on the last few months and how time is flying.

I get tons of questions about Marc's travel. Let me try to answer them all at once: Yes, it is part of his job. No, I don't particularly love it, but I live with it. No, I don't get to travel with him. Yes, we miss him a lot. Yes, he really loves his job. Yes, the trip after trip after trip is wearing him out. No, his feet aren't any better. There. I think that does it. Seriously, I appreciate the folks who encourage us through the travel. It IS hard. We do get sad when he leaves--and so does he. It's a weird mix, really, of loving what he does and hating to leave us yet again. And, as John has said in the past, it's just not as fun without Dad. (I'm more the 'make sure you brush your teeth' parent. I try to be fun. But I am not as fun as Marc.) So we are looking forward to the end of the current trip to Ukraine, when he will be home for a while. And we're really looking forward to vacation in late July/early August. We're really, really looking forward to that.

Han is in the States, visiting family and friends and looking at colleges. WHAT?!?! How is that possible? Sarah Beth flew in a day before Han arrived to surprise her in Dallas. If you haven't seen the video of her arrival on Facebook, you really should look at it. My girls have lots of weird names for each other and weird things they do--and the little paw gestures at each other in the video put that weirdness on full display. They are enjoying some time together before SB goes back home and Han flies to Alabama and Florida for visits. We're super thankful to family and friends who are so willing to jump in and help when we need it to make things happen for our kids. Such a help to us. Such a blessing.

It's cliche, of course, to say that time flies. But it does, doesn't it? I mean, how else would you put that? Yesterday, Hannah was 10 and declaring that she wanted to go home as soon as we arrived in the Moscow airport. Or face-planting in a snow drift outside the grocery store because she'd never had to walk in a snowsuit before. And today, she is a beautiful 17-year-old senior in high school, focused on her future and whatever adventure God has planned for her. Sarah Beth, for heaven's sake, is MARRIED! And John towers over me. You know, if I really sit and think about all of that for too long, I could really work myself into some sadness. Because weren't all those memories and great times really wonderful? And what if they don't need me anymore, once they're all grown? Who will I be, then?

The truth is that I will still be their Momma. My Momma is still my Momma. I still need her. I still ask for her help. I depend on her to do all the creative stuff I'm incapable of doing. (I bet that gets old--I like this, Momma. Make it for me, please.) But from my own relationship with my Momma, and my growing relationship with the girls and John, I also know that I get to be not just their Momma, but also their friend. My family are the poster children for family friendships. I adore my sisters as my sisters, but they are also my dearest friends. My darling aunts, my parents, my sisters and cousins...these are people contractually obligated from birth to adore me. And I'm for that! My girls hated hearing me say it when they were in Moscow and Czech Republic, sharing a room, but it's absolutely true--friends will come and go, but your family is FOREVER. Be nice to one another. That's worked out for us. I adore my children, of course, but as they become the people they are going to be, as they grow and stretch into adulthood, I also really, really like them. Every stage of life as a parent is bittersweet. But as they grow into adulthood and yes, away from my nest, I'm finding that the sweet far outweighs the bitter. I'm proud of them. I'm glad they love and like each other. I like that they care about other people, about the 'least of these,' that they have sweet, compassionate hearts. And no one on earth makes me laugh more than my three oddballs. That, surely, is a testament to God's grace and blessing, and certainly an encouragement to all you young mothers out there. Because if I didn't mess up my kids too badly, you certainly won't, either.

Well, after the horror of a massive computer failure last week, I am backed up on business stuff to take care of today, so I must make my way to that. And, of course, my exercise bike is calling. It's saying some not-very-nice things about my exercise regimen of late, so I'd better answer its call. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that God has blessed you with family you love but also like, and that you don't have paperwork to take up your whole day like I do. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Four little words

Marc and Nan at the Vienna Airport--we had a great week with her before she left for Bulgaria.

One of my favorite pictures from Sochi...why? Because we look like we have halos, and this is the only way I'm going to have a halo. :)

He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said. Matthew 28:6a

We are back in Vienna after a WONDERFUL meeting with colleagues in Great Britain. We had a really relaxed and fun time meeting some new folks and getting to see some folks we've known for quite a while. Especially great for Marc were several break out sessions that were focused on what he does, and when I found him recutting a video yesterday based on what he learned in one of those sessions, I knew the meeting had really had an impact on him. (He's usually too busy to go back and recut anything.) So we're really grateful for the time with colleagues, but also really happy to be home. Marc leaves again on Sunday for a week, but after that his travel schedule slows down a bit. Or at least that's the way it looks right now.

Last Sunday was an oddity in our lives, because it was Easter for everyone. Because we have so many friends who celebrate holidays on the Orthodox rather than the Western calendar, we generally celebrate both Christmas and Easter twice. But Western and Orthodox Easter fell on the same day this year. We were in London for a couple of days, and we watched the Easter sermon by the Archbishop of Canterbury. (We celebrated Easter early when Hannah was home for part of her spring break.) It was strange not to be in church on Easter Sunday, but it did give me the chance to really re-read the Easter story from all four Gospels. As with any really great story (and I'm not using story in a fictional sense, just in a sense of the telling of something that happened), the Easter story is one that shows me something new every time I read it. This year, what struck me most were four words that offer a great deal of hope and promise for those of us who believe.

For so many people I know, the last few months have been a season of deep heartbreak and real questioning of God. I'm not necessarily talking about those bad things that happen to us because we've done something. In our family, one of our 'Hooksisms' is that you get what you get and you don't throw a fit. (Hear that? That was all three of my kids rolling their eyes.) In other words, when you do something wrong, you take the consequences without whining about it. No, I'm talking about the things in life that blindside us. Things that cause us heartache and heartbreak, but that we didn't cause in any way. The death of my friend's daughter in a horrific car accident. The move to hospice for the wife of our youth pastor in the States. Other heartaches too personal to share publicly--don't we all have those? Where is God when these things happen? And how can we trust Him when we don't understand what He's doing? And how can we have faith when it seems He has deserted us?

I'm pretty sure that the disciples of Jesus felt the same way. After all, their Messiah, the person in whom they had put all their trust, was gone. Yeah, yeah, He said some stuff about rebuilding the temple in three days, but who can even understand what that means? Devastating loss. Heartache. Heart break. Sound familiar? But then the women show up at the empty tomb, and the man in white asks them--why are you looking for Him here? He has risen, just as He said. And it's the just as He said that is comfort and hope in a desperate season.

To me, surely the claim that He would rise from the dead and conquer the grave was the most outrageous claim Jesus made. (Well, the Son of God thing was pretty outrageous, too, but work with me.) Death is death. Final. Not an ellipsis but a period. Right? But He rose, just as He said. And if I can believe and trust in the Savior who did this outrageous, impractical, incomprehensible thing just as He said He would, then I can take His other claims and promises as true, too. God doesn't need to prove Himself to me, but again and again in the Bible, we see Him reassuring us through His actions that He is who He says He is. Even when we don't understand. Even when we are heartbroken. He is still the Savior who says He will not leave nor forsake us. He is still the Messiah who comes to claim His own. His plans are still to prosper us. Even when we don't understand what He's doing.

As I grow older and (hopefully) more mature in my faith, I realize and increasingly come to grips with the idea that there are many things that are simply outside my comprehension. I am not capable of understanding seventh grade math, for example, or how to update my computer successfully. And, of course, there are things that have happened--to friends, to family, to me--that I may never understand. But I know Him. I know He is trustworthy. I know He has my best at the center of His will. Even when it hurts. Even when it's devastating. I cling to the promise that He is who He says He is. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Amen.

Well, it's time to get the boys moving and start the day. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are believing that He will do just as He said in your life and the lives of those you love, and that you are also almost through with seventh grade math. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Why I love my crazy Momma

The three Hodges girls and their husbands...we seriously hit the jackpot in the husband department--three really great guys.

Momma and Daddy with Nan and John last summer

Okay, this is usually my attempt at being serious, but today is my mother's birthday, so for fun, I decided to do a top ten list of all the reasons I love my crazy Momma.

10. She is...unique. (It's her birthday, so I'm using her word. I usually say odd or weird, or sometimes crazy.) She sees the world in a uniquely Betty fashion. Which leads to number 9...

9. She is side-splittingly hilarious. If you've heard any of the three of us tell a story and laughed, it's because our mother can flat out tell a story that will make you laugh until you cry.

8. She is really, really creative. If you know her, you know that she sews and quilts. But did you know that she has also made me dolls, created playmates for my cousin (remember the mice, Morgan?), came up with a really cool gift idea when I graduated from high school (coupons for clothes with hilarious little sayings on them--the woman can make a pun with the word bison, trust me), and just generally can look at something and imagine how it could be something else. I did not, by the way, inherit this trait.

7. She is FIERCE. Seriously. Don't mess with us. You will bring on her ire, and you do not want a piece of that.

6. She is super smart. Don't play Jeopardy with her in the room. It is not fun. You know why? She knows a lot of stuff that you've never even heard of, and she will recall it before you can spit out any kind of answer. Just do yourself a favor. Watch something else when Jeopardy is on. You'll embarrass yourself.

5. She has super-human memory powers. She often begins sentences with, "You remember when you were five and we went to Indianapolis for that fair?" No, Momma. No, I don't. I can barely remember why I walked into the living room.

4. She is all in for her kids and grandkids. That means she has facebook and watches it daily to see what we're all up to and if we're ok. She is interested in every detail. She is all about where they go to college, who they are dating or marrying, and whether or not they have a date for prom. Seriously. My Momma CARES about us. Never, not even once in my whole life, have I ever wondered if she was on my side. YES. She is ALWAYS on my side.

3. She raised us to be friends. I've said it before, and I'll say it again--my sisters are my best friends. They love me more than is logical. My parents seriously raised us to know that family is just a little below God in the order of importance of things in your life. Others may come and go, but your sisters are there FOREVER. (And they remember when I was a size six. That's very valuable to me.)

2. She has never, not once, made me feel guilty for taking her grandbabies--who lived ten minutes away before we came overseas--across the ocean. Not once. NEVER. And let me remind you that when we told my parents we were coming overseas, my Momma was bald from radiation and chemo. She could have pulled the guilt card, but she never did. You have to love that kind of Momma. And along with that, she has made super-human efforts to be daily involved in my kids' lives. Across the street, across the ocean--makes no difference. She loves us all unrelentingly.

1. She loves Jesus more. She has lived her entire life in front of us serving others out of the overflow of her love for God. It's hard to go wrong when you have a Momma like that.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you have a crazy Momma you love more than life like I do, and that you are ridiculously thankful for her, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

When I have a bad week...

At Russian Christmas in January--love this guy a lot!

In the mountain athlete's village in Rosa Khutor at the Olympics--what an amazing experience!

O LORD, You are my God, I will exalt You, I will give thanks to Your Name, for You have worked wonders, plans formed long ago, with perfect faithfulness. Isaiah 25:1

I don't know if ever, in the almost 8-year history of this blog, I have gone this long without writing. Obviously, during our time in Sochi, there simply wasn't time. But it has taken me a while to get back to what passes for normal, and trying to put my thoughts about anything into actual words was just too much for me to comprehend. I couldn't do it. And I'm still not totally prepared to talk about Sochi, or maybe I'm prepared, but I don't think I can do it justice, yet. In many ways, it was an astounding experience. And I want to give it what it deserves, and I don't think I'm there quite yet. It was truly wonderful, amazing, fabulous...name an adjective that means 'great.' But details and examples and stories...they feel too personal, still. I'm not sure that will make sense to you. But in a way, in a very real way for me, it was awe-inspiring to watch God work. Not in the way we usually use 'awesome,' but in the actual meaning of the word, it was awesome. Again and again and again, we were humbled by the way He showed up, held our hands, patted our backs, and kept us moving forward. He acted, as the verse above says, in perfect faithfulness.

But as we all know, life marches ever forward. Every mountaintop experience, and I would say that Sochi was a mountaintop experience, is followed by some time in the valley. That's life. And this past week, in particular, has been a rough one. Marc left for Ukraine to do news coverage last Friday, arriving home yesterday morning. About ten minutes before he left, I found out that my beloved friend, Kimmie, had lost her daughter in a terrible car accident. Marc left for the airport--literally--to the sound of my sobs. That could not have been easy for him, and it was certainly awful for me. So I spent the week mourning for my friend, mourning that I couldn't be there with her, and mourning that Marc was out of the country in the midst of all of this. Plus, he got to be in Ukraine, a place I have a deep love for, and I was kind of jealous about that. Even with the troops on the border, I would have liked a trip to Ukraine. So on Wednesday, the day Kimmie was saying goodbye to her daughter, I had a royal pity party. I don't mean I felt bad. I mean I cried LOUDLY. Every bad experience, every bad circumstance, missing my kids, my friends, my parents, my sisters...name it. I probably cried about it. I actually ruined a pair of contacts by crying. No kidding. And I was not pleasant. Ask poor John. He was stuck with me. Ask my friend here who called me. I was not pleasant.

Finally, when I calmed myself down, I had to take a hard look at why I was so upset.  Why was I upset? Well, for one, someone I love so dearly was hurting so badly, and I couldn't be there. First, let me be clear. She was completely surrounded by people and didn't need me. I wanted to be there because I wanted to be there for her. But I knew she wasn't walking this path alone. Plus, of course, with the internet, I've been able to chat with her every day. So what else had me upset? Well, Marc was in Ukraine. And Ukraine and Russia are all upset with each other, and we love both countries so much, and the conflict was scary and upsetting to me. And what else? I missed my Momma and Daddy. Yep. I'm 46, and I cried because I miss my Momma and Daddy.

I don't usually have days like that. I'm too practical a person to spend a day in that kind of teary mode. But I just let myself have the day. I cried. I read books. I stayed away from my computer. I did some cleaning. I did not talk to a ton of people. I just shrugged my shoulders and thought, well...it's a bad day. Tomorrow will likely be better. And you know what? It was. Of course, some of that is because Marc was back in the apartment by 9:30, and he brings sunshine with him when he walks in--just his presence always makes me feel better. Some of that is because I prayed a very specific prayer for Kimmie, and in a message from her overnight, I was able to clearly see that God had answered that prayer. And some of it is just that I've done this relationship with Jesus thing for quite a while, and I know Him. He never leaves. He never forsakes. To quote Toby Mac, we lose our way, we get back up again. (I know. I quoted Toby Mac. I'm so cool.) He is absolutely, 100% faithful. Ever near, ever listening, ever comforting...even during a royal pity party. He knows me. He loves me, anyway. Grace, grace, grace. That is just all grace.

Maybe you never have a really bad day. Maybe your life is all sunshine and butterflies. But I'm betting it's not. All of our lives, it seems to me, are constituted by highs and lows and days of just status quo movement. Nothing big, nothing little...just life. I think the comforting thing to me is that God wants to be part of all of it. I look at my prayer journal, and I'm astounded by the way He answers even the 'silly' prayers--about my back hurting, or a test Sarah Beth has, or how to answer this or that email. Every single thing, good and bad, He wants to be a part of it all. And perhaps, over these years overseas, that is the thing about my relationship with God that has changed the most. I have finally accepted the idea that He loves someone like me. Intense, introverted, book-loving me. He knows me, and He pursues me daily. Every part of me. The good on the outside part, where I am looking like a pretty good Christian. The bad on the inside of me part, where I am often snarky and rude and selfish and prideful. And the part that has a pity party big enough to ruin a pair of contact lenses. He loves it all. I don't get it. I don't understand it. But my, oh my--I'm surely grateful for it. Surely, surely.

Well, I think I'm going to go start another book. I know--how can one person read that many books? I promise I don't just read books all day. But in any spare minute I have that isn't occupied with something else, I fit in some reading. Plus, it's Friday night, so Marc is at band practice, and John and I have kind of a quiet tradition. I read a book while he plays Pokemon. It works for us. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know and understand that the God of absolutely everything loves every single part of you--even the ones you don't love so much, and that your sweet girl is coming home from boarding school tomorrow, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye