Why you should send your kid somewhere to do something for Him

Han and I went for coffee yesterday at a little cafe about two blocks from our house. We had a good time talking over her mission trip, and I did everything in German!!

This is for my Mom. I wanted her to know that Hannah's ratty, nasty, sad-looking blanket has officially been to Hungary, Croatia and Bosnia and survived (sort of) to tell the tale. I know she'll be relieved. :)

Boris was so happy to have Han home that he just sat there in her dirty clothes pile all day. I'm sure he was pretty ticked when it disappeared into the washer and then the drying rack!

Not to us, O LORD, not to us, but to Your name give glory because of Your lovingkindness, because of Your truth. Psalm 115:1

It must be Sunday morning, because it's almost 8am, and nobody in my house is moving, yet. Except, of course, me. The cats woke me up at 4am, and that was all she wrote. So I've been up for quite a while, chit-chatting with folks on the other side of the world as they got ready for sleep. The great news is that our church doesn't meet until 4p.m., so there will be time for a nap. Sundays are very leisurely for us, and since it's 9 degrees Fahrenheit outside, I'm pretty sure we won't be venturing out for anything except church.

Hannah and the team returned from Bosnia at about 9p.m. Friday night, and boy, were they tired!! She slept until 10 yesterday, then she wanted to go for coffee with me so she could talk about her trip. Since she's almost 15, and I've worked with teenagers most of my life, I'm so thankful that she still wants to have coffee time with Momma. By the way--nothing is more Viennese than coffee. There is Kaffeehaus Kultur here--coffeehouse culture. It's one of the things that Vienna is famous for, and one of my favorite things about living here. So we went and had coffee (and I ordered all auf Deutsch, thank you very much!), and she talked and talked and talked about what happened, what she learned, how God worked, and how the trip made her different. It was time well-spent for both of us.

I'm going to be honest--Han has been on plenty of mission trips, and I almost never give it a second thought. But this one, this one was different. First of all--Bosnia. I'm an 80s-90s girl, and just the name Bosnia conjures up all kinds of terrible images. So that was a little nerve-wracking for me. Then, of course, the weather. It was terrible. They were driving. We didn't hear from them for long stretches, hours and hours at a time. All the information we kept getting was that Bosnia was an absolute disaster, literally, that the government was telling people to stay in their houses if at all possible. And our kids were in a van. Driving in that weather. Scary. Scary. So this one was a bit harder for me to "let go and let God," if you will. But after listening to her talk, I was faced, once again, with the truth that our growth as believers comes in the hard times. And mission trips give us lots of opportunity for hard times to come.

Some of you may think we are crazy to let her galavant all over Europe, working without us and outside of our control. But I would say to you that the wonderful girl that Han is, the kindness and compassion and boldness for Christ that so many people remark on about her is a result of tough times. Han has known suffering for Christ. She has known sacrifice. She knows what it is to have cold feet--literally--for the sake of others knowing about Jesus. And that has been the refiner's fire for her. So much of the great stuff about Hannah could not have happened sitting comfortably in a church pew in Middleburg, Florida. So what has she gotten out of mission trips? Why should you strongly consider sending your child on one?

--Perspective. Hannah has had the chance to see real poverty. Sarah Beth served in Uganda at an orphanage. They have seen what it is to not have enough to eat, to be grateful for a loaf of bread and some cheese. The world is HUGE. It is full of need. And Jesus explicitly told us that we are to take care of need. So the one-two punch a mission trip brings in this area is that kids get the chance to see that they have an overabundance for which to be thankful, and they see the importance of fulfilling the edict to take care of the orphans and widows of the world.

--Being His hands. Our IMB theme this year has been "His Heart. His Hands. His Voice." Middle-class Americans get very little experience being those things. And it's not about just feeding the hungry. It's making relationships. It's doing things outside your comfort zone. It's eating stuff you probably think is yukky. (Ask SB about her experience eating goat!) It's learning to be all things to all people so that He is glorified and some might come to know Him.

--Knowing the real church. I posted a link about youth ministry on my wall this morning, and it's gotten quite a reaction. It's an indictment of some things that have become prevalent in youth ministry in America--and probably in a lot of adult ministry, too. We can get caught up very easily in the show of American church, can't we? About the production, about who will sing what solo, about looking 'cool' so people will want to come. And I understand that, and I also know that it comes from a place of wanting people to know Jesus. But it can also pull us way, way off course. Church overseas often looks far more like the 1st century than the 21st century. My children love being part of a small church that works to fulfill the mandates of what church should be. One of the things I loved hearing was from Hannah's friend, whose parents drove us home from the school Friday night. She remarked on how amazing it was to lead the service at a church in Croatia Sunday morning, because there was such a feeling of family and love and of really knowing one another. They shared in something special together, and it was more than just all speaking the same language and knowing the same songs and looking all alike. It was way beyond smoke machines and graphics. It was 7 kids and 3 adults, a guitar, some singing, and sharing the commonality of loving our Savior. Priceless.

--Real Prayer. When they got to Budapest, their leaders told them all to pray to see what they should do next. They all came up with the same answer--go on. Now, this Momma is a planner and so is her girl, so that was hard for Han. But hard times give our kids (and us!) a chance to know real prayer. Not just, "God bless us. God do this. God do that. Oh, and bless the missionaries." :) Real, honest to goodness, where-should-we-go and what-should-we-do prayer. All sought in the name of glorifying Him. You can't tell me that is not an experience that will serve Hannah well in her life. It is. It absolutely is.

--It's all about Him. Everything is His, and it's all about Him and His glory. It's not about whether or not you want to do something. In fact, it's not about you at all. American parents have made a drastic mistake in making our kids think that everything in life is about them, their needs, their desires, their schedules. It's not. And we do them a terrible disservice if we allow them to be centered on self, if we choose to make their lives easy. Events are fine and good--there's nothing wrong with summer camp and great Wednesday night services and Sunday School fellowships. But if there is never anything else, if church never becomes about service, about someone other than them, we've missed the mark with our kids. Because you know what those kids turn into? Adults who spend their whole lives thinking it's all about them. They populate our churches. They are the people who complain about the sermon, who say things like, "I just didn't get fed today," who make pastors so discouraged that they leave the pastorate. They are the people who post terrible, awful, rude political rants on facebook and then are nasty to anyone who disagrees with them. They are the people who do not make the world a better place for being in it. I have no interest in raising those people. I pray that my kids would love Jesus, would treasure His Word, and out of an overflow of their love for Him, would love the world around them. I pray for generations and generations who serve the living God, who show compassion to those they meet, who love mercy and walk humbly with their God. That only happens if it's all about Him.

I'm thankful this morning that the team arrived safely, that they had an amazing trip, that God showed up in really unexpected ways. And I'm thankful that my children have had the chance to know God in easy times and in hard, that they have had the opportunity to do hard things for His glory. It's taken me a while to get there, but I see every day the benefit of their times of struggle, and I'm grateful. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are heading to church this Sunday knowing that it's all about Him, and that you are looking forward to hearing your girl and her friends lead worship at church, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Skipping off to language school

This goofball is coming home from Bosnia today, and her Momma is VERY excited about it!!

Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart. Galatians 6:9

For those of you who have followed the Bosnia team saga with us, they are headed home today, so if you'd like to pray for safety in travel, that would be great. I can't wait to see our girl, to hear her stories of God at work, to marvel, once again, at the grace and mercy God has chosen to shower on our family by providing us opportunities to minister in His name. I think their trip did not turn out like what they'd planned--Bosnia was basically covered in snow with all the schools closed--but they managed to find work, nevertheless. I'm pretty sure that the moral of that story is that there is work to be done everywhere we look--and our plans are not always God's.

So we started language school this week. In case you're new to this blog, I will start out by saying that this is the second time we've done language learning, and it is not our favorite part of this life. We are approaching our mid-40s (very, very quickly!!), and trying to stuff another language into our already full brains is not an easy task. Learning Russian was one of the hardest things I have EVER done. Period. It basically stripped me of every bit of pride, because it was far harder for me than I thought it would be. The thought of learning another language was pretty rough for us when the team decided to relocate to Austria. I'm going to be honest--one of the reasons we wanted to go back to the Russian-speaking world was because we already spoke Russian. But here we are, in Austria, where they speak German, so off to German school we must go.

Let me be really clear here--Vienna is full of people who speak English. Our next-door neighbors speak perfect English (and no German). Our church is English-speaking. We could get by speaking only English. We could. But that is not our heart. We are here. Planted here. And we are absolutely determined to get German. To us, this is a moment in our career that is about being who God created us to be--even when being something else would be easier. This is our "test Me in this" moment--only God can make this happen.

I am taking class in the morning, and Marc is taking class in the afternoon. Marc is two classes ahead of me, and his class is very hard, because his "other language" (the language everybody speaks other than Deutsch) is Russian. So that is very confusing, especially because the teacher only speaks a little Russian, so she will say things to him and then have him translate for everyone else. Yikes. So Marc is kind of operating in three languages while he's trying to learn German. That's a lot. But he's making it. And, of course--what's better for Marc than a room full of Russian-speakers with whom to make relationships? :) We've been seeking a way into the Russian community here--who knows that this isn't it? I'm taking the very beginning German class, and I absolutely love it. It's hard, of course, to learn a new language, but my teacher is so positive and kind, and I really, really like the other people in my class. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I get to take class with my friend, Stacy, but I really like the other people, too. Our class is three hours long, and I haven't once thought time was dragging or that it was dull. She keeps a really quick pace, but I feel like so much is making sense to me that I haven't understood before, and that's really exciting for me. So it's--in a really strange way--kind of fun to learn and understand.

Have you ever been blessed with the opportunity to do something hard a second time? Have you ever been blessed with the chance to correct some mistakes you made the first time? That's what this is for me. When I learned Russian, I made several mistakes. First, I let myself be distracted by emotions--frustration, sadness, homesickness, etc. Then I failed to be as diligent as I should have been. I didn't want to listen to Russian radio, so I only did the minimum that was required of me. I didn't want to study those stupid flashcards every night for twenty minutes before bed, so I didn't. I relied on what I knew from past experience to be my academic ability. And my teacher would always say how well I was doing. But I knew in my heart that I was really struggling to understand. Finally, I was way too timid. Wayyyyyyyyy too timid. Our language teacher would call me a "malinki mouse" (a small mouse) when it came to speaking. I just didn't want to, because I didn't want to make mistakes. Marc, on the other hand, would just tromp right up to people and speak away, making all kinds of errors. But here's the thing--nobody cared about his errors. What people cared about (and still care about) was the heart that's behind wanting to learn somebody else's language. Marc speaks to Russians in Russian because he loves them. And they know that. He was willing to lay down his pride in order to communicate with the people God had called him to love. And the reward for that willingness is that Marc's Russian is far better than mine. I can read and write it all day, but I still struggle to speak and understand.

So German is my do-over. It's my chance to actually learn from my own mistakes. I have already forced myself to say things in the grocery store that I've learned in class. And you know what? I've gotten all kinds of encouragement as a reward for even that tiny bit of effort. Today, I'm labeling things in the house and practicing verbs. Every night, I'm studying flashcards. But above all, I'm putting into God's hands the worries about being wrong, about not being able to do this. Because, my friends, I've had the chance to watch Him at work, and I know for sure that He does not call us to things that He does not enable us to do. I'm not looking for something supernatural to happen (although, hey--if He wants to do that, I'm not opposed to it!), but I am looking for God to confirm the work of my hands to learn the heart language of the people who surround me.

Well, the big boy is up and wants his breakfast. (John, not Marc, in case you were wondering.) I'm baking cookies for the team's dinner tonight upon their return, and I've got to mop my floors. Oooooohhhhhh, my glamorous life. :) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are asking the God of the Universe to do something in your life that only He can do, and that your kid is coming home from Bosnia tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Planting our Ebenezer in Budapest

My very best pal.

No matter what you call them, blini are Marc's favorite. These had curd cheese and cinnamon in them. Yummmmmm....

This is for Uncle Don and Aunt Diane: John enjoying his treats from Sochi. The bag is filled with what is basically a natural fruit roll up. Uncle Don and Aunt Diane brought them in December, and John loved them. They come in huge sheets, which I cut and roll up in foil to make a roll up. They are made from various fruits, but his favorites are apple and (believe it or not) prune.

In the light of the past the future is not doubtful. Since the same Almighty God fills the throne of power, we can with unhesitating confidence exult in our security for all time to come. --Charles Spurgeon

Marc will laugh when he reads that quote, or he'll sigh, or he'll just smile, because last night I had a complete breakdown in the kitchen over Hannah and her team and their struggle to get to Bosnia. We had not heard from them in many hours--just that the roads looked okay, so they were heading on--and my mind began to play tricks on me. I won't mention the scenes I pictured in my head, because that is simply an invitation for the enemy to set up shop, but I think if you're a parent, you can imagine. So I had a good cry, which Marc (in his very good nature) wisely avoided and made no comment on. Soon after, we got the news that they had stopped at the Croatian/Bosnian border and were spending the night, that the snow was terrible, but that they were all safe. My little sobfest looked a little silly, though God is the ultimate Father and has some experience in this department, so He also just let me cry. I slept well, not worrying about her, and I'm determined this morning not to worry, either, trusting in good leadership to make wise decisions, and a God for whom--as Marc just reminded me--none of this is a surprise. It's a great thing that what really upsets me doesn't phase him at all, and what he finds truly terrible is barely a blip on my screen. Otherwise, we'd generally be a disastrous mess.

And while I covet your prayers for Hannah and the team, that's not what this blog is about. We returned on Friday afternoon from a few days in Budapest, Hungary, and I got to thinking about all the great things a short vacation with just your spouse can do for your relationship, why it is worth the money and effort to get away with one another. Now, let me say that I know that this is a financial hardship for many, and certainly, we are not rolling in dough. But I got an incredible deal through Groupon, and this was Marc's Christmas present, so with help from friends who stayed at our house, we were able to make this happen.

Marriage is stressful. Until I met Marc, I'd honestly decided that I would just be single. Married with kids, frankly, did not sound all that great to me. But then I started dating him, and the world turned upside down. Suddenly, I couldn't imagine a universe in which I wasn't married to him, having oodles (well, maybe not oodles) of kids, and living happily-ever-after. But that isn't really what marriage is all about, is it? It's a partnership. A covenant. A vow. But it's also (if you do it right) a great, deep, enduring friendship. For us, that has certainly been the case. There is no question that Marc is my very, very best friend. He knows me. He likes me anyway. :) He's seen me at my best and my worst and the in-between that occupies 99% of the time. So when stressful, troubled times come, it is the friendship that carries us through. And a trip together, without the stresses or interrupters of children and homework and tests and projects and travel, reminds us of that deep friendship. Here are a few things a trip gives a couple a chance to do:

--Unwind with one another. Maybe your days are stress free and full of only really important things, but in my experience, it's the minutiae that'll kill you. It's who left their underwear on the floor or didn't put the cap on the toothpaste or forgot to hang their towel up to be reused. On big things, important, life-altering things, Marc and I are nearly always in agreement. We have rarely, in almost 21 years of marriage, disagreed about something huge. It's the little stuff. A trip gives you the chance to unwind from all that stuff and do absolutely whatever you want to do. We are both gigantic nerds, so we spent a lot of time at museums. Our favorite was the ethnographic museum, where they had a display of wooden Greek Catholic churches. C'mon. You have to admit that is kind of cool. Right? Oh, well...to each his own. :) But a trip allows you to forget the little stuff and do something FUN for a change.

--Talk. Really, really talk. The little stuff? It takes up almost all our talk time. The chance to sit at Starbucks and talk about what we think the future holds, what's next, where we are, how we're doing...priceless.

--Laugh. A lot. Though we have an ongoing feud about who is funnier--I think I am, and he thinks he is--the truth is that we absolutely make each other laugh. Nobody can make me "geezer laugh" as Hannah calls it quite like Marc. His cheesy jokes, his little commentary in museums...hilarious. And I'm going to be honest--we've not laughed a ton in Vienna. We laugh with the kids--our kids are really funny--but not a good, deep belly laugh. We did some belly laughing in Budapest, and it was good for what ails us.

--Dream. Not little ones. Big ones. And not just dreams for us and for our kids, but dreams for cities we love and that God has given us. Dreams about ministry, about the future, about what God has planned. After all, in a million years could we have dreamed the life we are so privileged to live now? No--but we did dream about more. And God has definitely, definitely provided more.

--Plant an Ebenezer stone. Here is where we have been. Here is where God has brought us. He was faithful there. He'll be faithful here. Caught up in the minutiae of life, it can be hard to remember where you've been and how far God has brought you. In our case, those stories almost always begin with an incident we both remember as though it were yesterday--a night in our pool, floating around after the kids had gone to bed, talking, dreaming...when Marc said to me, "I just feel like there is more for us than this. That God has more for us." That one conversation led to lots of praying, lots of studying, and a clear call on our lives that showed us what 'more' was going to look like for us and our kids. Time alone gave us the chance to rehash, to tell those stories to one another again. It gave us the chance to imagine God looking at us in the pool, listening to that conversation, and smiling as He looked at the path our lives were just about to take. The most soul-rejuvenating moments of our trip began with the phrase, "Remember when God...." He has never forsaken us. He has never deserted us. In the somewhat turbulent transition into Austria, it has been easy to overlook and forget what God has done, to feel alone, to be caught up in what we feel, in our emotions. That, my friends, is dangerous ground. It is a necessary thing to tell your stories to one another, to remind each other that our God IS greater, that no foe has ever succeeded against His will for us.

We had a wonderful, great, fun time. We were big nerds together, roaming museums and exclaiming over this cool find or that one. We enjoyed great food, including some yummy Hungarian goulash and real, honest-to-goodness Tex-Mex. Budapest was at the top of our must-see list, and we plan to go back with the kids this spring or summer. One whole side of Marc's family is from there, and it was really, really interesting and beautiful to imagine them walking the streets. But more than that, it was a great time of being together and encouraging one another as we head into language school and the stress we know it causes. Marc is both my beloved and my closest friend...what could possibly be better than time with him? Nothing. So I'm grateful on this very, very cold Vienna morning that God allowed us the time and resources to be able to escape the every day stresses of life for some relaxation and renewal. He is good and faithful in every detail of my life. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your beloved is also your best friend, and that it is warm where you are. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Praise to the LORD, the Almighty...

I just wanted to show you some before and after pics of my recent kitchen reorg. This is before. If you know me, can you imagine me living in this universe???

After: Thank goodness for IKEA bins. I have them EVERYWHERE.

Praise to the LORD, the Almighty, the King of creation. O my soul praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation. All ye who hear, now to His temple draw near. Gladly forever adore Him.

It's a gray morning in Vienna, Austria, but there are smiles in the Hooks household, because Marc is on his way home to us. I do not hate it when he goes, because he truly adores his work more than you can imagine, but I love it when he comes home. Some day, when we are empty nesters, I will go with him, and that will be a glorious day. But for now, I'm enjoying not being an empty nester and watching him settle into the shoes God created just for his feet.

If you've been married a long time (we'll celebrate 21 years this summer), you know (I pray!) the joy of the happiness of your spouse. You probably also know the great burden of watching your spouse struggle. In our 21 married years, I've watched both. And I'm thankful for the struggling times, because they make this moment in time so sweet for us. For years, I knew Marc was talented and gifted, that he loved people, that he loved God, but he never seemed to find the perfect fit for him. This life, his work, his travel, his love for Europe and Europeans, his commitment to the gospel...this is the life he was made for. It is the perfect fit. I would not give up his happiness in his work for any white picket fence in America. I really wouldn't. It is an immense joy and privilege and blessing to watch as he settles into the perfect life for which God created him. It really is. But I'm glad he's coming home. :)

I've been thinking lately so much about the great blessings that God has given us. Of course, our family is close--our children (though they fight like any other siblings) deeply love one another. They communicate with one another across continents, giving advice, sometimes arguing, telling each other little secrets. That is a joy beyond words for me. I have a tremendous marriage. He is my very, very favorite person in the world, my best friend, my closest ally, my biggest cheerleader. Our relationship with my parents and sisters...beyond words. I cannot imagine more supportive parents than both mine and Marc's. Never a hint that we should come home. Never a complaint that they don't see us every day. I try to never take for granted their sacrifice.

At home in Florida, we have a great church that loves us. Sweet cards, precious messages, encouragement beyond words, faithful prayer warriors...all reside at First Baptist Middleburg. We have partner churches across the U.S. who love us and care for us and encourage us. Here in Vienna, we attend a church that we are growing so fond of, too, grateful for the voices of so many nations raised in worship of our great God. We have a great school, where our children are making relationships and receiving a very good education. I'm so impressed by the Bible study and worship materials Hannah is working her way through in preparation for leaving for Bosnia next week. Oh, my goodness...real thought, real study went into making a challenging, stretching Bible study for the kids. She came home yesterday from training time for the team with an absolute glow about her--so happy with the team, with the work they are preparing for, with the incredible adults who are making the trip, too. What a blessing to have adults who so deeply invest in my kids.

We have a wonderful apartment in a great neighborhood in Vienna. Little by little, we are making relationships here. Little by little, we are learning the myriad little secrets our city holds--here in the center of European culture for so many years. Beautiful cathedrals, lovely streets, so many things to learn as we work to understand this place and these people. We have beloved colleagues all over the world. We love our work. We love the people with whom we work. There is a Starbucks at our mall. (Though I'm learning to love Viennese coffee and cafes far more than anything Starbucks has ever brewed.) There is a grocery store across the street! Blessings, blessings, blessings...

On a deeper level than any convenience Vienna could offer, this place that we did not necessarily want to come to is teaching us about being where you are. It's teaching us about loving and being broken for those God puts in front of you, regardless of the language they speak. It's convicting us about boldness and courage and dreaming bigger than is reasonable for a city, for a people. I'm reading the gospels, studying the words and actions of my Jesus closely, and one phrase keeps tearing at me: "And Jesus was moved by compassion for the people..." So many times, I'm not moved by compassion. He wept over Jerusalem. I walk the same path in my neighborhood every single day. When was the last time I was so moved by compassion for the lostness of my neighbors that I wept? Vienna is teaching me about compassion, about loving people, about being broken. Those are priceless, precious gifts, incredible blessings that I would not trade for being where I would have chosen.

On this cloudy, gray Vienna morning, I'm feeling grateful for a place where I'm being asked to stretch and grow and be content. And what I'm finding is that a true choice to be grateful makes little problems, small tensions, and even big issues fade in their importance. And I'm grateful for that, too. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are grateful for the big and little blessings of your life, and that your apartment is starting to smell like Cracker Barrel hashbrown casserole, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Some days...

I like this one--Han with curly hair. And thanks, sissy, for the Christmas present--she loves her JBU sweatshirt!

King Boris. He thinks he runs the place. :)

I'll give You everything I have, because I was undeserving, and You chose me. --Your Favor by Elevation Worship

So, let's be clear. It was all good until I went out to exercise. You see, I've been stuck in the apartment since Sunday with something that looked suspiciously like the flu (YUCK!), and today was going to be my day to get out and about. And what better way to do that than to exercise and walk around the neighborhood? So I was all good until that decision.

For a while, everything went well. I was listening to music, walking along, smiling at the dogwalkers, saying an occasional hello to folks I always see when I walk. And then, out of nowhere, I found myself with tears running down my face. DO YOU KNOW HOW NUTS THAT MAKES ME LOOK?!?!?!?! Completely nuts. So what happened? Well...it was (as it often is) a song that did me in. It was the song I quoted above, the song that Hannah sang at Marc's ordination at our church right before we came back to Europe. It was that song, you see. And it's not just the song, though it's gorgeous, and I love the sentiment--Your favor follows me. Your kindness leads me to a hope I cannot see. C'mon. Nothing wrong with that. It's all good stuff, right? But in my mind's eye, I could hear Hannah singing it. I could picture my parents as they sat there listening. I could see Sarah Beth crying as she listened to her sister, the baby she wanted to be a 'bruvver,' but who has grown up to be her friend. I didn't see it that night, the crying. People told me later. They said, "I was okay until I looked over and saw Sarah Beth sobbing over her sister. It was too much for me." And in my mind, I could clearly see that. Sarah Beth crying, heartbroken over the loss of her sister to a life that inevitably takes us away. And it was too much for me. So there I was, crying as I walked the streets of my neighborhood.

You know what we tell people? The people in churches who always say, "Thank you for your sacrifice"? We almost always tell them it's not a sacrifice. Or maybe we say that it doesn't seem like a sacrifice, this life that we--honestly--love and are so clearly called to. Don't read anything I'm about to say and take away the idea that we aren't called or that we're doubting that call. That's not it at all. But I'm going to be transparent and clear and--gasp!--vulnerable for a second. It's a sacrifice. Right now, this moment in time, this place in my life...it is a sacrifice. It is MUCH harder this time. No doubt about it. Leaving Sarah Beth on one continent while we are on another...it's awful. She is sick with some kind of bug right now. She wants her Momma. I hate it. I hate being away from her. I miss my parents terribly. Every single day. I miss my sisters. I miss my life. But most of all, I miss my baby. It makes my heart ache. And it makes me cry on the streets of the city I'm called to love.

And this can take an ugly turn, if I let it. It can go from "I'm homesick," to "So-and-so never calls. They don't even think about us," in about two seconds flat. And that turns into, "It must be nice to get to live down the street from your kid/parents/church. Wish God let ME do that." Oh, and THAT is dangerous territory, isn't it? To be flippant and ugly to the God of the Universe is no little thing. To doubt that what He has for us--even in the desperate missing of our girl, even in her loneliness for us--it is as close to blasphemy as I can imagine. Do you know the blessings of my life? Do you know the absolute shower of goodness He rains on me daily? He meets me at ridiculous times of the morning EVERY DAY to sit and have a cup of coffee. He listens to me. He gave me Marc and Sarah Beth and Hannah and John John. He gave me Ken and Betty and Kay and Cathy and all the names that go with those names...a close family...not distant relations...not call on holidays kind of family. I have REAL family. Blessings all mine. All mine. All bestowed from the giver of all good gifts. Who am I to question? Who am I to resent?Who, exactly, do I think I am in the face of who He absolutely is?

It doesn't surprise God that I'm homesick. It doesn't shock Him that I miss my girl or that Han and John miss their sister terribly. Nope. One of my favorite songs says it perfectly--all this was just part of Your glorious design. How can I, in the face of His incredible plan for my life, say anything but, "Hallelujah. Amen." I will not walk down the road of bitterness and comparison. I will choose to be grateful for the thousand blessings that are undeservedly mine. And I'll hope that my neighbors don't think I'm completely nuts. :) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know that He is still God, even when you're sick and want your Momma, and that you are making dinner for a much beloved friend, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

What I've learned...and what I'm learning

Hannah working at the U.N. Bazaar in December. I'm not sure what the face is about.

Hannah and her friends working the White Elephant Sale at the Bazaar.

The sign outside the entrance. The bazaar benefits women's and children's charities the U.N. supports around the world.

So we will be brought one by one to the testing place, and we may never know when we are there. At that testing place there will be no dozen possible choices for us; just one and an alternative, but our whole future will be conditioned by the choice we make. --A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God

I'm going to be honest--I'm on cup of coffee number 3, and I'm enjoying sitting on my living room couch (in Marc's spot, which is akin to Sheldon's in Big Bang Theory), sipping my coffee and having some quiet. I've gotten the kids out the door to school successfully, and (unfortunately) Marc is asleep after a terrible night of feeling really sick. I medicated him about 4a.m., and he finally went to sleep. Poor guy. But the apartment is quiet (even the kids next door just left for school), and I have a few minutes to think and write before I tackle the unenviable job of reorganizing my kitchen.

You might be thinking to yourself, "Golly, Kellye. You just moved there in October and you're already reorganizing?" Well, you make a fair point there. However, because we got here in October and the kids went immediately to school, I pretty much just threw my kitchen stuff wherever it would fit. I didn't really have much of a plan, especially about food storage. So, before I start language school on February sixth and become totally nuts trying to learn German, I thought it important to impose some kind of systemic change on the kitchen. Because guys...it's a mess. Not dirty. Just completely disorganized. I can't stand it. So we went yesterday and bought shelves at IKEA for the sunroom, and I think I'm going to store those things I don't use very often (esp. appliances) there in order to free up some room. Pray for me. It's a big, big job.

But that's not really what I wanted to write about. I was going to John's doctor last night to pick up a prescription, and it was the first time I'd gone on foot, giving me lots of time to think. (Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes...well, you know.) I was making the change from one line of the Ubahn to another, and I had never done that particular change before. But it didn't phase me a bit to do something new, go someplace I'd never gone, and it really made me start thinking about all the things I've learned living in Europe. I thought that might be an interesting thing to share with you, so here goes. Some, by the way, are not very deep. I didn't want you to be surprised. :)

--How to navigate any place. Even if I don't read/speak/understand the language, I can pretty much follow/figure out any sign there is. I actually realized this when I was in London, got us lost, and then figured out how to get back to where we wanted to be. Best of all, my kids have learned this lesson. I have to believe that will be a benefit to them in whatever life they choose.

--The joys of IKEA. I'd never been to an IKEA in my life until I moved to Europe. Everything in one place at decent prices is just more happiness that I can explain. Plus, you have to love any place on earth you can still get a hot dog and drink for less than $2.

--The fun of new foods. Every place we've lived has had something new that our family has really liked and added to the lineup of tacos and spaghetti that tend to populate our dinner menus. (Less spaghetti now that we work at eating lower carbs) In Russia, we learned to love the blini. In Czech Republic, it was fried cheese. (No, it's not like mozzarella sticks. It's WAY better.) In Austria, it's schnitzel. There is a lot of fun to be had just trying new stuff. Plus, it often gives us some of the best stories. (Remember the time Dad ate reindeer tongue pizza? YUCK!)

--Humility. Feel really good about how smart you are? Move somewhere you don't speak the language. Try to communicate. Then try to learn the language. See how that feeling smart thing works out for you.

--Gratefulness for the small stuff. Our lives are populated every day by small blessings. My favorite creamer from America. Flannel sheets my parents sent. Bath and Body Works lotions and spray. Cushy socks my friend sent. Little notes and cards from kids at church. A kind email. Someone just remembering we're here and checking on us. In a life that is sometimes overwhelmingly stressful, it's very often the little blessings that keep us from the tipping point where we just can't take it anymore.

--Letting go. Urgh. As Sarah Beth would say, "I'm working on it." This is a toughy for me, especially when something has been done to someone I love. It's hard, isn't it? But holding on to hurts is an insidious tool of the enemy. It's not big. It's not showy. It's the inner working of the heart, so who can know? But I know that holding on to things is a path to bitterness and ugliness that, frankly, ruins lives and careers. I'm not interested in it. But it's definitely an in-process thing for me.

--Being where we are. I've talked about missing Russia, and I do miss Russia. I miss Russia and Russians and my American friends in Russia. And there is nothing inherently wrong with that. But I'm here. In Austria. Not in Russia. And if I let my fond feelings for my time in Russia keep me from planting roots here, from learning this language, from understanding and embracing this culture, or from loving these people, then I've taken a drastic step in the wrong direction in terms of God's plan for my life. Because I'm here. So we can still be the 'Russia guys,' but we better work hard to also be the 'Austria guys.'

--Relying only on Him. Tozer talks about the spiritual disease of self-confidence. My self-confidence was stripped away in Russia. Smile. Sometimes a terrible road leads you somewhere beautiful. It's not that I feel terrible about myself, or think I'm incapable of making my own way. But I've tasted and seen what complete reliance on a loving, compassionate Father can bring, and it beats relying on myself any day of the week. So I plan and I work the plan (my family will smile when they read that, because I ALWAYS say that when we go somewhere), but when it doesn't work out, I know He has it. Because He always has it. Sometimes I forget. But I always come back to it eventually--without Him, my life is a mess. With Him, my life is the most amazing adventure. I'll choose the adventure. :)

Well, I hear stirring. I'm hoping that means he's miraculously healed. Or at least that he can move without hurting. Wherever you are in the world, I challenge you to think through what you've learned and what you're learning, and that your kitchen doesn't need reorganizing. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

All about Him

One of the great joys of my life is the deep friendship between Marc and my Daddy.

The four of us at my Aunt Angie and Uncle Raleigh's house in Clarksville, Tennessee--will I ever get used to "the four of us" instead of "the five of us"? About the time I do, it will be "the three of us."

Since I write constantly about them, I thought it might be nice for you to see my sisters and parents. This is the five of us at my aunt and uncle's house in Tennessee. My sister, Cathy, is on the left, and Kay is in the middle.

It's all about You, Jesus. And all this is for You, for Your glory and Your fame. --Jesus, Lover of my Soul

Well, it's the new year, and I'm ready to get back into a regular routine. Our kids don't go back to school until the 9th, and I think they are ready for normal, too. It's been a good break, we've had fun with each other and with friends, but now it's kind of enough. Know what I mean? But the turn of the new year is always a time for contemplation and reflection--not resolutions, necessarily, because I don't think that generally works to make a change--and I thought I'd share some of the things I'm working on in 2012.

--Scripture memorization--I have done some memorization in the past, but not enough. The more I know God's Word, the more I understand and can utilize it's real, legitimate power over the darkness that can sometimes seem overwhelming. If I'm going to claim every thought for Christ, I need something else to put in its place to roam around my brain--and Scripture seems like a good choice.

--Positive instead of negative--I've spent too much time recently on what is difficult and hard. It's okay to think through and pray through those things, but concentrating on them alone is a recipe for discontent. And by the way--I live in the world's best city to live in, according to recent news articles and surveys--so what am I complaining about? :) Seriously, there's a lot of good here, and definitely ministry to be done. Looking at the good, not the bad, cannot hurt anything or anybody.

--Concentrating on home--It is weird for me to introduce myself as a "hausfrau," but it's what I am. I'm a housewife. And while there is definitely lots of ministry to be done outside my home, my first priority has to be the ministry inside my home. Keeping our home running smoothly is a full-time job. Taking care of Marc so that he can do the things he's here to do--beyond a full-time job. And you know what? I'm finding that there is a great deal of joy and fun to be had in this ministry to those with whom God has entrusted me.

--Reflection and quiet in my quiet time--I'm such a checklist girl. It's so easy to study my Bible and pray because it's what I'm supposed to do. You know what I mean--feeling that you've done your duty because you have spent 15 minutes telling God what you need. (Okay, I spend more than 15 minutes, but that doesn't make a checklist mentality any better!!) I have been really convicted recently that my quiet time isn't always very quiet. In other words, I do most of the talking and almost none of the listening. God isn't my therapist. It's not about me. It's about Him. I need to close my mouth and listen. I am convicted of my immense need for more of God, not to know more about Him.

--A broken heart--It's not about a place. It's not even about being called to love a specific people. It's about a broken heart for those who don't know Him. If I am honest, it's easy to be drawn in by the polite nature of Austrians and forget that they are lost. Lord, help me see the world as You see it, with Your heart. If that is my prayer, I cannot help but weep for the lost of this beautiful city--no matter which beautiful city I happen to be in at the moment.

--Boldness--I cannot be satisfied with only an incarnational witness. It can't just be me living here, making relationships, and never bringing up spiritual things. It is easy to be quiet about Jesus in order not to offend. But you know what? He's offensive to everything this world is about. It's not enough to just live a good life. Lots of people who are going to hell are living good lives by the standard of this world. It's not enough. Lord, Lord...let my words in front of You be few, but let my words about You be many.

There are more things on my list, but they are too personal to share in a public format. It's enough, I think, to say this: I want 2012 to be a year in which I make much of Jesus. I want to make Him the focus, the center. If I do, I know that everything else in my life will hold together. Because, you see, it really is all about Him. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your 2012 is going to be all about Him, and that you are looking forward to a day of getting things done, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye