Love song for my firstborn

My oldest...I can't believe she's 21 today!

With her soon-to-be last initial

Love these two--could not have asked for a better guy for our girl.

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. Ephesians 2:10

Here's what you need to know up front: I never saw myself as a wife and mother before I became one. I was not the little girl who dreamed about her wedding or about having a flock of children. (Okay, sometimes I pretended to be Maria von Trapp, but that was mostly about the twirling and the singing.) So when I found out I was expecting a baby, I wasn't quite sure about how I was going to be as a Mom. Of the two of us, Marc is the feeler. He's compassionate. He's much kinder and gentler than I am. I can be a bit intense and austere. (That's putting it nicely.) But then, as time went by, especially after I got over morning sickness (which lasted all day--poor Marc ate many, many meals on the porch), I got pretty excited about the mommy thing, mostly because I discovered--as I think most women can attest to--a fierceness and protectiveness I did not know I had in me. And when, seven months into the pregnancy, my OB took my blood pressure and uttered a curse word, when we discovered that, out of the blue, something was really, really wrong...that fierceness went into overdrive. It kept me together through two months in the hospital, two months lying on my left side, two months of poking and prodding and general humiliation--all in the name of getting our little girl into the world. And when she was born by emergency c-section, when they brought her in with her little jiffy-pop hat on from the NICU...Oh, my. As Han would say, all the feels...they were overwhelming. I discovered within myself a kind of deep, core love that I didn't even know I was capable of. There was this tiny, tiny human being who was solely dependent on us...God bless her...and who trusted us...for some reason I could not discern. Even when I didn't know to take the pins out of her little dress that we took her home in, even when I actually drew blood by poking her with said pins trying to get them out, even when I accidentally clipped part of her little tiny finger when attempting fingernail trimming...she still just looked at me with those beautiful eyes and smiled. (After the howling in pain, of course.) What love was this? How could I bear for anything bad to ever happen to her? EVER?!?!?! And so began a love affair of the heart that continues to this day.

Of my three children, Sarah Beth is the most like me. While John and Hannah are extroverts like Marc, Sarah Beth is an introvert like her Momma. She is the one who most understood why I needed to shut the kitchen door in our Moscow apartment every night in order to be away from everyone. She is passionate about those she loves, and will defend them against any who would do them harm. She is our tiniest girl--I'm pretty sure John will tower over her by the time we get to her wedding this summer--but she's a mighty mouse...seriously, don't mess with her. When someone does something bad to the other two, somebody always says, "If they don't watch out, I'm calling Sarah Beth." She is an incredible big sister, loving her siblings passionately, wanting what is best for them, calling them out when they are being silly about something, happy when something goes right. And, of course, she is deeply in love with her DJ, preparing for marriage, looking forward to the time that he will be in Arkansas with her. She, like her momma before her, is marrying her best friend, someone with whom she will have lots of fun, someone who makes her laugh--a very important quality in a husband. (Sometimes, Marc just dances around the apartment to pull me out of a blue mood...not much funnier than that!!) She has always been a person who sees beyond the artificial and superficial, who roots for the 'little guy,' who is able to see the good in people.  She is a justice-seeker, a person for whom 'fair' is important, someone who passionately loves things as diverse as comic books and figure skating...just a really unique, interesting person.

When we went to Russia, Sarah Beth was 15 years old. She gave up a 'normal' high school experience and headed off into the great unknown with us. When our candidate consultant met with her to determine if this was going to be something she could handle, I'll never ever forget the tears falling on her skirt as she said, "I don't want to go. But I know we're supposed to go." In Moscow, she was basically fearless. She would get on the metro and just go places in the city, and then come back with some snippet of Russian she had learned. She went to Uganda and worked in an orphanage for her spring break. She, along with the rest of us, learned a lot about suffering, about giving people the right to be who they are, about loving people even when they don't act the way they should. She graduated and went back to the States before us, because at 18, she had to learn to drive a car. She had to relearn how to be an American girl. And sometimes, that wasn't as easy as it sounds. She had to figure out how to deal with the American church (much different from our overseas fellowships), how to not be freaked out by Walmart (that's harder than you think), how to be in the States and thrive. And she basically did that on her own. We lived in Florida her first year of college, and then we left her on one continent and moved to another. (By the by--the hardest thing I've ever done, and I've done some hard stuff in my time.) And while she doesn't know much about our lives in Austria, which are incredibly different from our lives in Russia and Czech Republic, she is always supportive and encouraging as we try to navigate these waters. She has grown into a young woman who is talented (her design skills definitely come from Marc), whose future looks incredibly bright, a young woman of whom we are so proud.

So happy birthday to my firstborn, who taught me to take the pins out of clothes, to laugh harder than I thought possible, and to love people where they are. I'm so glad God chose me to be your Momma, Madre, Momma J in the morning, Ma...and any of the fifteen other names you call me. I love you more than my own life, more than words, more than cats, more than anything except Jesus and your Daddy and the two Chebums. You are, indeed, God's workmanship, and I cannot wait to see what good works He has designed especially for you.

Love you--Momma

I'm Loving the Lists

My tall, voice-changing, gentle-hearted John.

My sweet man and our sweet Tash. Yes, she does sit like that.

Darling, in love, soon-to-be bride--our beautiful Sarah Beth.

The Nan...amazing, beautiful, growing-up-way-too-fast Hannah.

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 know, I know...it's been a while. Quite a while, in fact. Sorry about that. Life has been...not boring at all, lately, and that has left me with little time, and frankly, little desire to try to organize my thoughts in a way that even resembles logic. So I've taken a little break. But this morning, as I eat my breakfast in snowy Vienna (what?!?! where did spring go??), a breakfast which includes cauliflower I've tried to convince myself is like grits, I thought I'd take a little time to check in and share what's going on in our lives here. (The cauliflower isn't bad, by the way--but it's also not fooling my tastebuds into thinking they've had grits. Oh, well.) In a lot of ways, I don't have much to tell. We leave next week for a break with friends, and we're looking forward to that a great deal. We're wedding planning from 3,000 miles away, and that's interesting and also really fun. I have to say for Sarah Beth--we definitely do not have a Bridezilla. She has the dress, and she has the man. The rest of it could be at Taco Bell, and she'd be fine. (That's a quote, by the way. From her.) So the wedding hasn't been causing us a ton of stress. Sarah Beth has been quite ill, and that is stressful, as all my friends in this part of the world can attest--overseas living with small kids is hard, terribly hard--but overseas living when the family is split and one (or more) is back in the States...also very, very hard. So whether you're having and raising babies overseas or watching your babies have and raise babies a world away--nothing about any of that is easy. But that's life, right? What are the chances, if we lived in the States, that all of our children would stay in the same place and raise all their children ten minutes away? Pretty slim, I think. My parents have only lived near my kids for a long period of time, but have managed to be great grandparents in spite of distance. I see a lot of my friends doing an incredible job of grandparenting from this side of the ocean. So it can be done. It's just hard.

In fact, in general, isn't life hard? I don't know anybody who is breezing by in life. Honestly, even the people who really have it together find life difficult, sometimes. Sometimes, we get to be in a season that's easier, and sometimes we're in a season that's more difficult, but we're never in a season that is trouble-free, are we? (If you are, and you know how you made that happen, please email me the secret, because I would love some easy.) For us, this is a season of more difficult. We have not had tons of great stuff in the last two years, and we've had quite a bit of not great stuff. And a lot of our not great stuff has involved our kids, which makes it even more difficult to handle. Add onto that parents whose health has not been great seemingly since the moment we stepped on Viennese soil, and other issues that just come up, and it's a recipe for bitterness. Right? Because wouldn't it be easy to turn to God and say, "Hey! I gave up this and this and this for You. How about cutting me some slack?!?!" And that precise moment, that moment of real anger when we don't understand what He's doing, that is the moment He gives us lists.

Maybe lists don't speak to your soul the way they do to mine. I have three (yes, THREE) calendars that I keep daily in my flat. I have an index card for every day (I do use them front and back), and each day comes with the things that must get done that day, the things that need to get done that day, and the things I'd like to get done that day. I love lists. I have a deep, core need for organization, and lists definitely speak to that need. So, when I come upon a list in the Bible, as I did this morning in Joshua 12, I actually read the lists. I actually read the lists of names in the gospel accounts of Jesus' life. Deep in those lists, I find a lot about God that speaks to me in this season of not-so-great.

In Joshua 12, in the list of who Joshua and the Israelites defeated, there isn't any new news. In other words, if we read the account of their war with their neighbors and those who would keep them from the Promised Land in Joshua 6-12, we already know who they defeated. But it seems to me the purpose of that list is a little different from just a journalistic account of what happened. If you read Joshua, you know that the Israelites taking the Promised Land as their own, as God promised them, was nothing short of a miracle. It was a God-sized task. It was something only He could accomplish. And He did. In big, amazing ways. He made the sun stand still. Seriously. Read it. He did. In the Israelites' weakness and complete reliance on Him, He does what He always does when we are faithful--He showed Himself mighty. (They also have moments of real stupidity, so don't get to thinking this is about the Israelites being super-perfect followers.) The end of Joshua 12, the list of all those who have been defeated, is another reminder that He alone can rescue and save. He alone can defeat the enemies. He alone gives Jericho to His chosen. He alone is God.

And Matthew 1? The seventeen verses that begin the New Testament can easily seem the worst possible way to start Jesus' story on earth. Where is the hook for the reader? How can anyone be drawn in by a list of names and generations? But God is doing something important in those verses, isn't He? In that list of names, of generations, of who begat whom...is the ultimate Promise Keeper. When He said He would not leave nor forsake, when He said He would bring the Messiah, when He promised to rescue and be a strong tower...He wasn't just talking. He did exactly what He said He would do. And He did it through some pretty surprising choices. Rahab? Aka Rahab the Harlot? In the lineage of Jesus. Ruth? A foreigner? In the lineage of Jesus. Bathsheba? Adultress? In the lineage of Jesus. The list of people God chose to work through in order to work His will, His incredible plan for saving us were not perfect. In fact, they were far from it. Sinners one and all. Not a perfect one in the bunch. But He used them, anyway. He chose them, anyway. Just like He chooses the sinful and imperfect and messed up, broken jars of clay, to follow where He leads. Because in the broken and sinful and messed up, He is shown to be what He is: mighty, all-powerful, amazing, awesome.

So what does that have to do with a season of not-so-great? He's still at work. He's still doing things, things I cannot predict, things so far beyond me that I couldn't even think to ask for them. He's doing stuff that only He can do, that only He can dream up, that only He can understand. I don't know what He's doing, but I do know this for sure: He's doing. He's at work in the mundane, in the hard, in the wedding planning, in the hard stuff that touches our kids...He's doing something big. And because I have my own lists of things He's done, hard times He's brought us through, and blessings that He continues to shower on me and mine that we clearly don't deserve, I can trust Him. It might not be the easiest thing to do, but it's possible. Because He is who He is. He does not change. He never gives up on His own, no matter how broken we feel. He is faithful. And in a season of not-so-great...He is enough.

Well, time to exercise. Aerobic boxing is the choice for this morning, since I'm not wild about walking in the snow. Plus, of course, I have a notecard with a list of stuff to get done today, so I'd better get going on that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you have lists of the many ways the Father has been faithful to you, too, and that it's not snowing where you live. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

What true love is really waiting for

Sarah Beth and her sweet DJ

The Han and John John

Me and my sweet man

Watch over your heart with all diligence, for from it flow the springs of life. Proverbs 4:23

Ah, Valentine's Day. Marc and I celebrated last night--I made him his favorite homemade pizza, and we watched tv shows on our DVR in Texas. Sarah Beth flew home to Florida last night to celebrate with her DJ--a gift from us to them for Christmas. It makes me smile to think of them together--their sweetness to one another is smile-inducing, to say the least. What Momma doesn't want to see her child happy in love? It's a new season, a different season, but it's certainly a sweet season. And with an almost-16-year-old daughter and an almost-12-year-old son in the house, we certainly are thinking--A LOT--about love. (If you want to know how to successfully flip your hair or the importance of brushing your tongue in order to be more attractive to the ladies, by the way--John John is the guy to talk to. OH, MY!!) Put that together with the news that True Love Waits--an abstinence program from the nineties--is coming back into 'vogue' with churches, and it got me to thinking about what true love is really waiting for in the end.

I have a secret for every teenaged boy who is wondering what in the world girls are interested in: look at their facebook page. If you go to Han's facebook page, you'll see lots of stuff about cats (yes, we are cat crazy), funny stuff from Tumblr (yesterday's Venn Piagram, for example), and silliness between her and her girlfriends (very, very entertaining stuff, by the by). But you'll also find there posts about what she's listening to on Spotify (look at all those love songs and praise songs and acoustic guitar covers), and you'll find YouTube videos of songs she particularly loves. This week, the post was a song from a group we really, really like--Anthem Lights. It's called "Hide Your Love Away," and it was a release for Valentine's Day. The chorus says, "Hide your love away/ Wait for me/ Wait for me/ I will do the same/ Wait for me/ Wait for me/ There will come a day/ When I finally say/ Staring in your eyes/ I've waited my whole life/ For this night." It has these words in the bridge: "I'm holding on for you/ My heart belongs to you/ Your love is spoken for." Now, I'm sure there's a component of this song that's about sexual purity, and certainly, that's a core value for evangelical Christians. So don't walk away from this and think that Kellye doesn't think sexual purity before marriage is important, because I obviously do. But I think there's something really, really telling in this song that goes far beyond a call to abstain before marriage. The reason Han and her friends love, love, love this song is that it hits at one of the deepest needs of the heart--the belief that there is, out there somewhere, a soulmate. Not someone who thinks you're pretty. Not someone who thinks you're smart or funny or any of the other great qualities of any particular person. Because those are things anybody can think. They aren't special. What I'm talking about is the belief that somewhere in the world is the person God created just for you, the person for whom He created you. The belief that somewhere in the world is a person whose soul wraps around yours in a way that nobody else's soul does. A soulmate.

Isn't that what romantic movies are all about? Isn't that what every Nicholas Sparks book is about? We want to believe that there is someone out there who understands us, who loves us, who sees in us the good that maybe nobody else sees. Looks, beauty, passion...those things are great, and they add spice and wonder to life. They are certainly gifts from the Father of lights. But it's that deep connection that every person longs for. It's the reason Marc and I enjoy each other's company so, so much. I don't just love him. I get him. I understand him. And he understands me. We can communicate across a room with just a look, because he has stared into the depths of who I am, and he has not found me wanting or lacking. We fit. DJ and Sarah Beth are cute and sweet and funny, but what's magical about them is watching them truly like and understand one another. True love, my friends, is waiting for that one person who understands us, who sees who we really, truly are, and thinks we are perfect for them. True love is waiting for that person who speaks truth to us on a daily basis, but who also affirms who we are at the deepest parts of our souls. I have an ongoing joke with Hannah. When she comes out and I say, "Oh, Nan, you look beautiful," her reply is always, "Oh, stop you!" When I reply, "OK. I'll stop," she always grins and says, "No, Mom. Never stop. Please." It's a running gag, and I'm not attaching particular depth to it, but there IS something kind of important about that, isn't there? We all need somebody to tell us the good stuff, to remind us that we are children of God--beautiful, talented, amazing...worthy. Not worthy of worship, certainly--only God is worthy of worship. But worthy of someone else's time, attention, desire, love...worthy. 

I've prayed for years for the people my children will marry, if that's the plan God has for them. And much of what I've prayed is based not only the Scriptures, and what God has to say about marriage, but also on my own experience as a wife. I want for my children what I have--someone whose love helps me be the best version of myself. Without Marc, I would have been very content with my books and my cats. But I would have missed out on so much adventure that God has showered on my life through our marriage. I would have missed my soulmate. I would have had a good life, but I would have missed the best life God had for me. Because Marc is the best life God had planned. I'm glad I didn't miss him. :) So we prepare for SB's wedding with a smile, because the guy we prayed for showed up and is a really wonderful person who loves her and treats her exactly the way every parent alive wants their little princess treated. And we continue to pray for that guy who will come along and sweep the Nan off her feet, and the very special young woman who is God's best plan for John John. (We're praying she is someone with LOTS of energy.) Because somewhere out there, true love is waiting...for them.

Speaking of true love--I need to go make apple cinnamon muffins for mine. I love for everyone to wake up on Saturday mornings to the smell of something divine and wonderful, and since Marc is sure that cinnamon is what heaven smells like...it seemed a good choice for this rainy, dreary Saturday morning. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your true love makes you the very best version of yourself, and that you DON'T have an expense report and German homework to do today, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Stones, Sochi, and Standing Still

Who could have imagined when we sang together all those years ago that we'd be together on a mountaintop in Russia?

Two of my three babies in Krasnaya Polyana, Russia. And yes, John John really is that tall.

Following in Daddy's footsteps: The Nan tapes her Daddy during an Engage Sochi session on top of the mountain.

Those twelve stones which they had taken from the Jordan, Joshua set up at Gilgal. He said to the sons of Israel, "When your children ask their fathers in time to come, saying, 'What are these stones?' then you shall inform your children, saying, 'Israel crossed this Jordan on dry ground.'" Joshua 4:20-22

I only have a few minutes to write this morning. There is exercising and showering to be done before our German lessons begin this morning. But we returned from Russia this weekend, and it's Wednesday already, so I feel like I need to write about our trip. We were in Sochi, Russia, the site of the 2014 Winter Olympics and Paralympics, for a week. While there, we had Engage Sochi team meetings (minus one family in the midst of their first Russian visa process), on-the-ground time to see where ministry venues might be, and great time with a team of volunteers from the Oklahoma and Georgia Baptist Conventions. We ate our Russian favorites, bought souvenirs like tourists, and re-immersed ourselves in the Russian language. (I discovered that I remember Russian well, and understood most of what was said to or around me, but when it came time to speak, only German wanted to appear.) There were lots of favorite moments. (I know that's technically an impossibility, due to the meaning of 'favorite,' but you get the idea.) Watching my kids interact with adults always reminds me that--though they are normal and have the normal issues all children have--they are pretty awesome people. John successfully ministered to every cat in Sochi. I'm really not kidding. I enjoyed time with friends, time back in Russia, time to decompress as a family. I enjoyed the Russian culture, the beautiful scenery, and the wonderful people. Most of all, I enjoyed--as I always do--the chance to watch Marc be Marc: dreaming big dreams, taking a big view of what I can only see in detail, thinking and planning and believing that God is going to do whatever He wants, regardless of how impossible we think it is. In trips like this, the difference between me and Marc is very clear. I am a plodder--I believe God is going to work, but I often feel like that work is dependent on me getting my job done. Marc is a dreamer--he knows that God is going to do things we can't imagine, so nothing seems impossible to him. I like that about him. If we were both like me, we'd have a pretty dull life. On the other hand, if we were both like him, we might forget to pay the light bill. So we're a good match, I think.

One of the really cool things about our trip was the chance to see how God has been at work in ways we could not have imagined or predicted. Engage Sochi was a pipe dream when it was hatched--who would approve it? Yet, men of vision agreed to it three years ago. The chance to see that original proposal in action...to see church plants happening...to get ready for a mass event at the Games in a year...that's good stuff. To know that God has been at work in a thousand ways to make that happen is reassuring, isn't it? Because we didn't know. We didn't know if it would work or not. But sure enough, stuff is happening. This is actually going to happen. That's pretty humbling, but it's also very reassuring and encouraging. God is going to do what He's going to do. Often, we just need to get out of the way or join the ride or dream the dream with Him. As I sat next to my friend, Margie, whom I've known forever from our days sitting in choir together in Middleburg, Florida, I couldn't help but grin a little at how God works. We could not have dreamed all those years ago that we would work together in Sochi, Russia. Goodness--I didn't even know where Sochi was on a map fifteen years ago, much less that I would ever live and travel in Russia. But we didn't have to know, did we? I bet it was kind of fun for God, watching us sing alto in the choir, joke with each other, love each other...I bet it made Him smile to see the ways in which our lives would intertwine years later for His glory, for His plan. All those years ago, we were on a need to know basis, and we didn't need to know. Now, we get to see how He has been at work all this time. That's clearly a gift from the Giver of all good things.

A pastor friend in Missouri--okay, I actually babysat him years ago--made a remark on facebook the other day that struck home with me. He said that God is good in the seasons when I get it, and He's still good in the seasons when I don't. As a family, I would say we're in a season of not getting it. It has been a difficult second term for us (kind of par-for-the-course, according to friends who have been overseas for a long time), and it can be hard to see how God is at work. When the painful season involves our children, it is nearly unbearable. And to think that their pain might be part of His plan isn't in keeping with what I know of our God, who is loving and compassionate and merciful and kind. But I've made a theological misstep there, haven't I? Because I've equated happiness with God's kindness. I've made the assumption that an easy life is a sign of God's favor. How did that work out for Peter? for Paul? If I really look at the great cloud of witnesses, how many of them enjoyed an easy life? None. Zero. They did not mark God's faithfulness by their situation or circumstances. Paul and Silas sang songs of praise chained in prison because they knew that God's goodness was not marked by their freedom. 'Well done, My good and faithful servant' is for those who endure, who press on, who stand still in the storm and know that He is God. Not the God of ease or happiness or fun, though those seasons come and are gifts from Him, too. He is the God who holds our little family, scattered over two continents, firmly in His right hand, who inscribed our names--Marc, Kellye, Sarah Beth, Hannah, John--on His palm long ago. He is the God who calls us to obedience, regardless of circumstances or seasons or emotions. He is the God whose faithfulness overwhelms my life. And in those moments when we get a glimpse of how He has been at work over many years to bring His plan for us to fruition, we treasure those stones of remembrance, we set up our own memorial at Gilgal, we say to our children--remember when God did this? He led us over dry land before, when the waters should, by all accounts, have overwhelmed us. He will do so again. We can trust Him.

I don't know your situation, but I know if you're breathing, you have something hard in your life. And maybe it's something that just doesn't make sense to you. Let me challenge you to trust in the One who makes the universe revolve, who puts the seasons in motion, and who loves you more than you can fathom. Let me challenge you to be still and know exactly who He is. Let me challenge you to look at your own memorial at Gilgal, to recount to each other the ways in which His faithfulness has led you on dry land through the Jordan, to know that He is still at work. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know and trust in the faithfulness of our giant God, and that you actually finished your German homework already. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The Patterns of His Faithfulness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His,
Kellye

I get by with a little help from my friends

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

Our gorgeous new entryway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His,
Kellye

Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters!

The sisters with Momma

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

The sisters with Daddy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His,
Kellye