The God of all Encouragement

The flyer advertising the first Russian-language group meeting

Our pastor, Lars Heinrich (right), brings greetings to the group from our church, Baptistengemeinde MOGA.

Our friend, Peter, brings one of the messages to the Russian-speaking group during our first meeting.

Blessed be the LORD, for He has made marvelous His lovingkindness to me in a besieged city. Psalm 31:21

I am alone this morning--John is at school, Hannah is babysitting for a local church's Bible study, and Marc is in the States for his first two of three Engage Sochi trainings. So I'm taking a break from the stacks of papers I have divided around the room that represent our reapplication for Austrian visas, and I am determined to finish this blog. Here's the weird thing: I've written this four times now, and I finally had to step away from it. The only thing that has remained the same is the pictures and their captions. I want to describe this weekend, this time of real encouragement, and instead what I found myself doing was concentrating pretty hard on what has been difficult about Vienna for our family. It's okay to be real and vulnerable and admit to you that Vienna has been a difficult transition for us, and I've done that. What is not okay--ever, frankly--is to wallow in that difficulty. And after an amazing weekend and then the rush to get Marc packed and out the door, when things slowed down and I sat down to write, I found myself wallowing. After a long, dark season, we are seeing some light at the end of the transition tunnel, and I refuse to turn my back on that light. For one thing, it's not healthy to do that. And for another thing, I am so delighted to see some light that I feel like jumping up and down with glee. So, I'm refusing to give into the enemy of my soul, who wants nothing more than for me to fall into discouragement and despair and take my family with me. So--no to that.

The verse above has long been my life verse. It applied to Moscow, because I felt besieged in Moscow, and I felt Moscow's besieged nature. There is real darkness there. There are real difficulties. (Not to mention language, culture, etc., that proved beastly for me. Or the cold. Oh, the cold.)  When I came to Vienna, and even for the first few months we lived here, I felt like it probably didn't fit as my life verse, anymore. Because to be honest, Vienna living is not that difficult. Oh, we take public transportation most of the time, and I don't have a dryer for the clothes, and of course, we are having to learn another language...but those things seem like normal life to us. I don't think about walking places or allowing a day for clothes to dry, and I have a dishwasher, so I feel like I'm living high on the hog, as my grandmother would say. We have a lovely home, in a beautiful neighborhood, and Austrians are truly wonderful. So, how does the adjective 'besieged' fit beautiful, lovely Vienna? Well, it does. In a post-modern, post-God Europe, the cities are besieged. There is real darkness here. There is real oppression. When you look beyond the beauty of the cathedrals, you notice that most of the people there are tourists. Not that there isn't an evangelical community here, because there is, but the numbers of evangelical Christians in Europe are pretty tiny. So Vienna is as besieged as Moscow, but in a totally different--and maybe a more insidious--way. Austria's--and Vienna's--veneer of loveliness cannot mask the truth: the enemy has gained a lot of territory here. It is besieged on all sides.

But our God--amazing, all-powerful, all-knowing--is the God of all encouragement. And what He has brought into our lives in terms of just encouraging us to run the race before us is amazing. So the besieged nature of Europe is not the point of the post. The difficulties of spreading the Gospel in Europe--not the point of the post. God's amazing faithfulness to meet us where we are and encourage our souls in ways that only He can--that's the point of the post. So here are the ways in which God encouraged us in the last few days:

• We had a visit from my youth minister from high school, Hal Herweck. Hal taught me how to do a Three Stooges impression, how to plan an event, how to be on time to an event (or get left at the gas station), and how to love the absolutely unlovable. Hal and his wife, Nancy, and his kids, Wendy and Trey, formed a great second family for me growing up, and I continue to be thankful for the influence they had on my life. So imagine the unbelievable joy of having one of my spiritual heroes show up in my city and listen for hours to the ways God is using our family right now. Unbelievable. That person who always thought you were more than you thought you were? Hal is that for me. And he reminded me that a life well-lived, lived for the sake of the Cross, is a life that leaves a legacy the world cannot take away. 
• We had a visit from dear friends and colleagues. They are funny and fun and some of our favorite people in this company. They have been in Europe a long time, and we love to hear their stories. And here is what time with them always reminds me: the people who last in this business are the people who endure in the knowledge that God is up to something big, no matter how circumstances look. They are the people who choose to laugh at the often weird life we lead. They are the folks who encourage others to hold on. 
• We attended our first Austrian baptism on Sunday. Amazing. AMAZING! Two teenaged girls were baptized, and the sermon was such that we could really understand it. (Though at one point I tried to persuade Han that our pastor was talking about Justin Bieber. She wasn't buying it.) The church was packed, and when the girls came out of the baptismal water, there was cheering!! Also, our pastor waded right into the water in his clothes. Hannah even took a picture of it. It was just a great service, and we were so encouraged by all the excitement surrounding their baptism.
• Our first meeting with native Russian speakers went very well. We had more than we thought we would, and they were mostly young people. What struck me about the meeting was how many people said they'd been praying for a Russian language service where they could worship God in their heart language. Isn't that like God? We're praying to start something, and they are praying for it to start. He'd already knitted our hearts together, and we hadn't even met. (By we, I mean a group led by a Russian-language pastor in Prague. We are so thrilled they asked our family to participate!) It wasn't just encouraging because people showed up and were enthusiastic. It was encouraging because it's always encouraging when we see God at work. And He was and is clearly at work here.  
• We are very encouraged about language, but in a really weird way. We aren't encouraged because Sunday was a great triumph where we functioned well in Russian and German. Because it wasn't. We struggled not to mix them up, and to come up with vocabulary in German, especially. So in lots of ways, it was really exhausting and frustrating. But...we could see glimmers of a time when it will still be exhausting, but probably not as frustrating. Does that make sense? I generally understood the sermons in both Russian and German. I generally understood the songs in Russian and German. I had trouble going between the two, but we left encouraged that there will come a day---with lots of diligence and work and practice on our parts in both languages--when we will be able to negotiate trilingualism. And that is just a testament to God's goodness, because as I grow older, I become more thoroughly convinced that I'm an idiot. 
• Our relationship with our Austrian church. I want to be very, very careful here. We have worked with a lot of churches overseas, and we have loved, loved, loved them all. We really, really have. And of course, we adore our home church in Middleburg, FL. But our Austrian church represents to us something we have not had overseas before--a true church home. I'm going to be honest--MOGA (our church) does not need us. We don't bring anything to the table they don't already have. They are missional, they are community oriented, they are reaching out to those around them. They don't need us. But we need them. In a season of true difficulty and real darkness, our church has been a light for us. They love us. They want us to be there. They welcome us. They make us speak German, when it would be easier for them to just speak English, since most of them do. One of my favorite moments on Sunday was when we were leaving the church to go meet our friends and bring them back for the Russian service in the afternoon, and I was stuck on the word, 'key,' in German. A kind man, seeing my frustration, said, "You can speak English if it will be easier for you." Immediately, one of my new friends said to him, "No. It's important she speak German." Then she turned to me, grabbed my hand, and said, "You speak good German. Just slow down. I can understand you." When we came back to church that afternoon, our pastor, Lars, had rolled up his sleeves and was mopping the floor to get our room ready for us. He has made us feel a part of the church, just as every member has done. When I think of MOGA, of God's goodness in helping us find them (from a list of churches we were given!), of our relationships that are developing there...well, I understand what Paul meant when he said, "I smile upon every remembrance of you." 

Is everything in Vienna perfect now? No. And if you find the perfect place, please let me know, because I want to get in on the ground floor of that venture and pad my retirement account. But if you've ever been through a difficult season, you know the joy that little glimmers of sunshine bring. And we are feeling more than glimmers of sunshine. In a besieged city like so many other besieged cities in Europe and all over the world, our huge God has scooped us up, shone some sunshine on our faces, and shown us how deep and wide and far His love for us really is. It's not an easy life--again, if you find an easy life, let me know--but it's the one He designed for us. And in moments of difficulty, when circumstances--good and bad--go far beyond our ability to understand them, we can rest in the comfort of the God who loves us, who is always at work, who wastes nothing, and who loves our besieged city enough to die for it. That is encouragement we can all grasp onto--whenever the need arises.

Well, the visa paperwork awaits. Oh, the joys of the visa application!!! But any paperwork is worth being in the smack-dab center of God's plan, and for our family, that means Vienna, Austria. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are living in the center of God's perfect plan for you, and that you are having tea with a friend in just a bit, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Facebook, Transformers, Austen, and loving each other

Just some pics from Sochi this morning--Han with her sweet Aunt Diane. My kids (and their parents) are fans of Aunt Diane and Uncle Don!

I cannot remember the name of this app, but this is our friend, Jane, showing my kids how to make these hilarious videos. Clearly, they were delighted by it.

My pic of Uncle Brian taking a pic of Han. Uncle Brian and Aunt Inna are some of my kids' favorites.

But I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in Your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for He has been good to me. Psalm 13:5-6

I am enjoying the laziest of lazy mornings. I have already had three cups of coffee (my limit before putting some food in my stomach), and there is fruit baked oatmeal in the oven (a yummy, yummy weight watchers recipe--look for it on pinterest), and so my whole apartment smells like apples and cinnamon. I've already talked to Sarah Beth this morning (I usually at least chat with her when I get up and before she goes to bed), and I've heard from both Marc (in Ukraine) and Hannah (in Spain) about what great trips they are having. After a night of Greek mythology and Percy Jackson, John is sound asleep in his room. (Saturday is--generally--his sleep-in-and-take-no-adhd-meds day.) And so, while the oatmeal is baking, I thought I'd check in with the outside world.

Lots and lots of random thoughts this morning. This was quite a big week for us. My parents have sold their house in Florida. That's big news. It's sad news, but it's not. It was hard for my kids, because that has been our stable place since coming overseas. They had the same reaction when my Aunt Angie and Uncle Raleigh sold their Florida home and built a house in our hometown of Clarksville, TN. It's part of who we, as a family, are, these places where our children have run and grown up. But life marches forward, and my parents really need to be near one of us. (Remember that they moved to Florida and WERE near one of us, but then ONE of us had to take off and move to Europe. Inconsiderate.) So that was big. Hannah turned sixteen on Wednesday, and we surprised her with a visit to Madrid, Spain, and one of her closest friends. That was fun. Marc went on a trip to Kiev, Ukraine, where he is working with some folks out of Richmond, but staying with one of his favorite people in all of Europe, so he is having a great time. John and I have had a pretty good week, enjoying some fun time together. There was a startling moment Thursday night when I heard a man's voice upstairs...only to discover that it was John. Hmmm....I'll leave that for another time.

Among the many things I've been thinking about is Facebook. I know there are people who think it's basically the downfall of civilized culture, and there are certainly things about it that I don't like. (If you are very political, for example, I have not unfriended you, but you are probably hidden from my news feed. I love you, but seriously--I can't take the ugliness.) But generally speaking, I love facebook, because I can keep in touch with people, see what my nieces and nephews are doing (whether my nieces and nephews by blood or because we have lived overseas together), know how to pray for folks, keep up with our home church...if you try, you can find lots of uses for facebook other than those that are negative. This morning, for example, I played a little guessing game with some friends (including two of my college roommates) about which movie trilogy is my favorite (and thus my pick for John and I to watch today/tonight). (For the record, it's Transformers. Yep. You read that right. Transformers. I love them. Bumblebee is my favorite. Don't judge me.) In turn, I have agreed to reread some Jane Austen books, which I do not like, but I am willing to give a second chance in deference to my long friendship with the two who were my college roommates. (And because I SHOULD like Jane Austen. I am a complete and total book nerd. But she's so...girly. I don't know. I'm going to try, Deb and Jerrie. I really am.) Plus, it's a way for my parents and sisters to check in on us, and to keep up with what's going on with the kids. (My mother reads every single thing any of us puts on facebook--diligently. She is serious about keeping up with all the grandkids. It's pretty impressive.) So, if you choose to use it well, facebook is a way to encourage others, to participate in their lives, to love them. Marc uses it to pray over people and situations during his quiet time every morning--a practice I've heard several people mention. Like anything cultural, it can be used for good or evil, but it's your choice how you use it.

I also have been thinking about Christian blogs. This is, technically, a Christian blog. And I have several friends overseas who blog diligently and whom I follow. But those aren't really the blogs I'm talking about here. I'm talking about the big guys--denominational guys, sites, seminary presidents and professors...you know, the big guys. I read some with whom I usually agree, and I read some with whom I generally disagree. But I do read them. But lately...I don't know...they talk about stuff I just find very disconnected from my daily journey as a person of faith. If I tell you that I don't really understand what Calvinism or Reformed Christianity or Landmarkism is, will you think less of me? Because I'm serious about what I believe, I really, really am. And I think it's important to know exactly what I believe and what I profess as a Christian and as a Baptist. I do. But as I grow older and (hopefully) more spiritually mature, as I diligently look at and study the life and person of Jesus...maybe it's a very simplistic approach or view...but I just keep coming back to love. Loving God, loving people. Jesus had serious compassion. He wept for Jerusalem and longed to gather its people like a mother hen gathers her chicks in protection. He loved Peter, even though He knew...He KNEW Peter would let Him down and deny Him. But He also knew that Peter would be crushed by that failure, and He had compassion for him.  He Loved, with a capital 'L.' He was diligent and serious about loving people. More and more, on a daily basis, my requests of God look like this: show me who You are. Let me know You. Help me to love like You love. Sift my heart, because there is nothing good in it that isn't You, and make me more like You. Help me to love everyone better--my family, my friends, those with whom I have a relationship, but also those with whom I disagree, those who are sometimes ugly, those who sometimes accuse and say things that simply aren't true. Help me to love them, too. Not because it will get me somewhere or make me happier or make me anything, but because You love them. Don't all things for the believer and follower of Jesus Christ come down to love? Increasingly, I think they do.

Now, don't walk away thinking that I'm some hippy-dippy, free-lovin' wild woman, or that I don't think there are hills to die on in terms of what I believe. Of course there are. This is not an I'm-okay-you're-okay-all-paths-lead-to-the-same-place kind of post. Because I don't believe that. Clearly I don't believe that. Jesus is THE way, THE truth, THE life, and the Bible clearly says that no one comes to the Father but through Him. But once that truth is acknowledged, once that is accepted in the core of our souls...then it is about loving Him and loving the people He loved enough to sacrifice Himself so that they could be saved. I don't know what you want on your tombstone, but I certainly don't want it to say that I was a person who loved a reasonable, logical amount. I want my life story to be one of someone who loved unreasonably and illogically and extravagantly out of the overflow of my Savior's love for me. That's a lot to put on my tombstone, but I hope it's the truth, nonetheless.

Well, the baked oatmeal is out of the oven, and there is laundry to do before John gets up and our Transformers marathon begins. Wherever you are in the world, whether you are an atheist, a noncomformist, a Calvinist, a Landmarkist, or just a person trying to follow Jesus the best you can, I hope you know how deep and wide the Father's love for you is, and I hope the end of your life is marked by tributes of the extravagance of your love for the Father and for the people He sent your way. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

To Han, Nan, Hannachka, Hannah Jane...on your sixteenth birthday

My beautiful girl with her Momma

At Krasnaya Polyana, Sochi, Russia

With her much-beloved Aunt Dalese in front of Stephansdom in Vienna

Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised. Proverbs 31:30

Darling Hannah,

Sixteen. Unbelievable. Yesterday, you were the baby who roamed Ridgeview High sucking her two middle fingers. Today, you're sixteen. The little girl who, when the fire alarm went off at daycare, said, "Don't worry, it's just a dwill. Fowwow me," has seen a good bit of the world, experienced some 'normal' stuff, and so far, lived a pretty extraordinary life in some of God's most beautiful places. The girl who told us, upon our arrival in Moscow, that it was time to go home, has become the girl who always reminds us, "But we're called. We can't go back." Sixteen. Wow.

We are very proud of you, Daddy and I. You often amaze us just by being you.  Of the five of us, Han, you have been sifted by God the most. Everyone has had their struggles on the field, and certainly, we've all learned a great deal. But you have spent some very, very unhappy time overseas, and yet--amazingly--you remain a pretty optimistic person. It is the thing in you that is most like your Daddy and least like me. Your view of people, your lack of cynicism, your love for the underdog...those are not qualities you got from your Momma. You inspire great loyalty in people, deep love and affection, and I think it's your genuine kindness that makes people so attached to you. You make me kinder by reminding me that everyone has their troubles, and that we have to really feel for people.  I'm not a feeler, but you are. I love that about you.

I love your heart for the lost. I've watched you weep at the lostness around you. I've literally watched you put your head on the table and sob for beloveds who do not know your Jesus. That heart, the one that is so attuned to see the world through the lens of how much they need Jesus--that heart is being prepared for something. I don't know what it is. I really don't. But when you sobbed over the call to prayer in Turkey, I knew then...God has something for you that He is, even now, tuning your heart for, making it softer and softer toward those He loves dearly, but who do not know Him. I'd be lying if I said that didn't scare me a little. For the first time, I think, I understand how hard it is to be on the other side of this equation--the parent who sends a much-beloved child into the unknown darkness. But I trust Him, Han, even with you and your brother and sister. I see daily how much He loves you. I know His plan for you is perfect and better than mine, which involves you marrying a nice man, having 2.5 lovely children, and living next door to me for the rest of your life. He loves you enough to prepare you diligently for what is ahead in your life. And I trust Him to do that.

I love that you are not afraid to be honest with God. I didn't learn that quality at your age, that truth for my life. I tried to make God think I had it all together. But you don't. You question. You push Him a little, knowing that He loves you and can handle the big questions. What is He doing? You've asked me--and Him--that more than once in the last two years. And I think the answer you are coming to, when that question seems unanswerable, is that you don't know, but you know Him. You know how good and faithful and loving He is, how just and holy and righteous. But you don't seem Him as the 'big guy in the sky' with His finger on the button if you displease Him. We have all learned this truth--trouble, hard times...these are not signs of the displeasure of our God. You KNOW Him, Han. At sixteen, that's a pretty amazing thing.

So, darling Hannah, on your sixteenth birthday, here is my prayer for you: That you would know how deep the Father's love is for you. That you would follow Him all the days of your life. That you would know that your outer beauty is nothing in comparison to your inner beauty--your kind heart, your gentle soul, your love for mankind. And yes, I pray that somewhere out there, God is preparing some wonderful young man who is going to think all the things about you that are silly and funny and quirky are adorable, that he is going to fall in love with you, marry you, and lead you to follow God wherever He leads. I pray that you always look at hard times, bad situations, and mean people and say to yourself, "Well...someday this will make a good story." Because what you have learned at sixteen, and what will only grow in your life as you mature, is that God doesn't waste hardship or trouble, that He really does work all things together for the good of those who love Him, that He makes all things new, and that these light and momentary troubles are producing something beautiful--in your life and in your heart. Someday, Han, all these things really will be a great story...a story about what God can do in a young woman's life when she is completely, fully, unashamedly, radically in love with her Savior. That's the story He is writing in your life, Han. And while sometimes it's hard to watch Him write that story, sometimes it's super painful to watch you go through what don't seem very light or momentary troubles, it's also a privilege to watch you grow into the person He created you to be. It's an amazing honor to be your Momma. I'm so glad God chose me for you.

I love you more than life, darling girl. I could not be prouder of you.

Happy birthday!
Momma

Learning to unclench my fist

I haven't uploaded my Turkey pics, yet, so I thought I'd share this sweet one of Han and Marc in the mountains at Krasnaya Polyana, Russia.

Han is a big help to her Dad, because--like all my kids--she has gotten some of his gifts for all things media. Here she is taping a greeting from him for the Engage Sochi project.

For whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction, so that through perseverance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope. Romans 15:4

It's a quiet morning here in Vienna. Marc is in Moscow, the kids are still asleep, and it's pouring snow on this cold April morning. WHAT?!?! What happened to Spring? I guess we left it in Turkey. Speaking of Turkey--what a wonderful week we spent there. We started with great Engage Sochi team meetings (minus one family--they should be on the ground in Russia soon), where we not only got a lot done, but also had great time together. We adore our Engage Sochi teammates. Honestly. I'm not just saying that to be nice. We really love them and treasure them. It may honestly be one of the best combinations of personalities ever. We can talk, disagree, hash things out, discuss, disagree some more--but always with a deep love for one another, for Jesus, and for the city we are all so focused on right now. What a treasure that is. What a true gift. We went from great team time to great time with the wider group of friends who came together. Yes, we had great preaching and teaching and worship time together, but we also just had fun. We're grateful for our friends from Russia and elsewhere, not just for their encouragement and kindness to us, but also for the really great times of laughter and story-telling and more laughter. If you have those kinds of friends, you know how wonderful they are. I pray that you do have those kinds of friends in your life--people who 'get' you on deep levels, but like you, anyway. :) We are blessed. Truly, truly blessed.

There were many great pieces of wisdom to take away from our time together. We have been the recipients of so much great preaching and teaching in our time overseas, and this was certainly one of the best meetings we've been to in that regard. What was interesting to me was how many people seemed to be in the same place, needing the same teaching or encouragement or challenge. The preaching centered on the Psalms, and not just the 'happy' Psalms, but also the ones that are full of weakness and discouragement and woe. (I love the word 'woe.' I know that makes me a nerd, but isn't it a great word? Really. Nothing else describes woe like woe.) In a difficult season, I can't think of anything more encouraging than knowing that weakness isn't a disqualification for ministry. God calls the weak, because in my weakness, His power and glory are certainly magnified. In a difficult season, the admonition that today is not a snapshot of how the rest of your life is going to be, not something to hang on the wall as a done deal--truly, truly meaningful. The idea that the only spiritual discipline is abiding in Jesus--challenging to this checklist girl, for whom it's so easy to think my quiet time is something to get done and is the fulfillment of my spiritual disciplines. But resting as a spiritual discipline? Trusting God? OUCH.

So lots and lots of great things to take away from our time in Turkey, things I'm still mulling and coming to terms with and trying to apply to my daily faith journey. But nothing made more of an impact on me than something said in a private conversation. I'm a metaphor girl. I understand the world in terms of metaphors, and they often speak to me in a way that means more to me in my soul than just the words with which they are constructed. And I am married (thank heavens!) to the king of the metaphor. Marc often helps me understand things by describing them in metaphors. As we were talking to friends who have really invested in us, who know us and have taken the time to know us, who really care about us, the husband clearly described what, for me, is the hardest thing in my life--spiritually--right now. He said that it seemed to him that our challenge was raising our hands to God in an act of sacrifice and submission and not with a clenched fist. I almost jumped up and shouted, "YES!!! THAT'S IT!!!" Now, of course, the hard part is not necessarily identifying the challenge but actually doing it. How do you--in a season of hard stuff--open your hand to whatever is in God's plan, even when you don't understand it??

I don't know about you, but I am at a point in my life when I understand (finally!) that nothing is hidden from God. There was a time when my prayer journal was flowery and pretty, and made me look really 'spiritual.' Not necessarily because I thought anybody would ever read them, but because I wanted God to think He hadn't made a mistake in calling me to this life. I wanted Him to feel like His investment in my life was worthwhile. Those days are over. My prayer journal does not make me look very good, sometimes. In fact, it exposes the ugliness of my soul quite often. There are many days when the gist of my prayer is, "C'mon, God! Give me a break!" Because the truth is--He already knows what a mess I am without Him. I'm broken. I'm a cracked jar of clay. (And sometimes a crackpot. Hahahahaha....oh, I love a pun.) There is NOTHING in me that is hidden from Him. But here, I think, is the secret to unclenching my fist: He knows me, and He loves me beyond my comprehension, anyway. He knows me. He loves me. He has never left me. He will never leave me. He loves Marc, Sarah Beth, DJ, Hannah and John more than I will ever be able to love them...and I love them with everything in me. His plan for me, for us, is rooted in that love. There is nothing about His plan that is cruel or unkind or unloving. Nothing. Even the stuff I don't get. Rooted in His love for us, love that turned its back on the throne of Heaven and its face toward the Cross. Willingly and knowingly and with me and mine on His heart, He died. And yes, Easter is wonderful because Sunday arrives, and He walks out of that tomb, and He saves the whole world. But on Friday, when He willingly gives up His life for me in a brutal, horrible death He did not deserve but I did--He paints a picture for me and my metaphor-loving heart that says, "This. This is how much I love you. I will never leave you. I will never forsake you. I choose death out of My deep, deep love for you. You can trust Me." Recognizing this kind of love, knowing it is for me (and you and the whole world)...it seems to me that this is how I unclench my fist, raise it toward Him and trust. No matter what emotions say. No matter how much I miss Sarah Beth, or how much I worry about my parents, or how much I want my children to be happy.

I want you to think well of me. I want you to think I have it all together. So sharing my struggles and being as transparent as I can in such a public forum is hard for me. But I know this for sure--I'm not the only one who struggles with this. I'm not the only one in a rough season. And if you're not in a rough season, hold on, because it's coming. Because our life is made up of hills and valleys and plateaus and moments of great joy and moments of great grief. That is what it is to be human. But in His lovingkindness, He has given us proof everywhere of how much He loves us, what a treasure we are to Him. Sometimes it's just the beauty of His creation, signs of a loving Father who pleasures in surrounding us with beauty. Sometimes it's one less stress in life, knowing that He enables us to get through stuff we aren't able to do on our own. Sometimes it's a group of friends at Burger King, telling stories and laughing and reveling in being together, even if it is once a year. Sometimes it's a friend who quietly loves, who quietly puts a hand on your shoulder, who whispers in your ear, "It's not a snapshot to frame." But always, it takes a willing heart to recognize that all those things are God's blessings. They aren't chance or coincidence or karma. They are a loving Father who knows what I need at any given moment, and happily provides it for me. I hope and pray that's an encouragement to you in your season of difficulty or sunshine, whether you're in a sunny beach season or it's pouring snow all around you. He's there. I promise He is.

Well, Hannah is up and needing attention. Both my kids came back from Turkey with sore throats, and she is running a fever and feeling terrible this morning. Urgh. But she is looking forward to this weekend, when her sweet friend visits, and I'm looking forward to time with our guests, too. More blessings from the kindness of the Father's heart. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are looking for the ways God is encouraging your heart, and that it's NOT snowing where you are. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Life Lessons from my Wii Fit

No reason...I just like this picture with my man. :)

But I do not consider my life of any account as dear to myself, so that I may finish my course and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify solemnly of the gospel of the grace of God. Acts 20:24

I'm going to be up front and honest--I've been up since 2am, when a dream about ants in the closet woke me up with a start, so there's a real possibility that nothing I'm about to say will make any sense. And I don't know why I think my Wii Fit is funny, but I do. I exercise every morning, and there are some things about it that tickle me. And yesterday, while I was sweating away (before I get to my favorite, the snow ball fight, in which I knock oh-so-many of my beloveds right over with a perfectly aimed snowball), I got to thinking about some real life applications that can be made from my Wii Fit. So here you go, for your edification, and perhaps, entertainment.

1. You have to face reality. Once again, I am dealing with my weight. Let's face it, since I turned 20, I have always been dealing with my weight. But this time, for once, I'm trying to do it the right way. I am following Weight Watchers, which is very, very slow, but also steady. It is not quick. I would like it to be quick. But all the quick ways to lose weight and get fit don't work over the long haul. Because let's face it--I'm not going to give up bread forever and always. I love a potato more than I should. To completely cut those things out may take off the weight for the wedding (I do not want to be the fat grammy in 10 years in the wedding pics), but I'll put it right back on when I come back to Austria, land of the bread. (Seriously, I'm fairly certain the Alps are actually constructed out of delicious Semmel/rolls.) So, I can click the button to ignore the weighing in every week, or I can take the plunge and see how I've done. Then, I can face reality. I lost a couple of pounds. Or I gained a pound. I always know why. But I have to face reality and then deal with it.

2. On the other hand, you also have to ignore the little voice that says, "Oh!" when you step on. I hate that little cutesie voice. I really do. If you have a Wii Fit, you know the voice. It says, "Step on," and then sometimes, it says, "Great!" But then, there are those other times, when it says, "Ooooohhh..." You know, like ooooooohhhhh, how many scoops of ice cream did you eat? Or oooooohhhhh, do you need some help stepping up on the balance board with all that girth? I hate that voice. Because really, I have that voice in my head all the time. No matter how thin or heavy I am, that voice is at work. And you know what, I (and you!) need to kill that voice. Because that voice is not the voice of God. It's not. I know for sure. Any voice that criticizes everything about me, that tells me that how people feel about me is contingent on how I look or how much I weigh...nope, that's not my Maker. That's my enemy. Because that voice, when listened to, just makes me want to give up. And my God, friends, is not the God of giving up.

3. I get by with a little help from my friends. Some of you, unbeknownst to you, are characters on my Wii Fit. Yep. You're there with me every morning, cheering me on. Some of the folks doing step aerobics with me are the weird characters John created--my personal favorite is the guy who not only has a unibrow, but also has the misfortune of having a face that's upside down. (That isn't supposed to be any of you, just so you know.) But I find those little characters encouraging and funny. They make me smile. And I appreciate that they get up with me at weird times of the day/night and exercise. Because no actual person wants to do that at 3am.

4. It's all about my family. When I get on the Wii Fit every morning, my family shows up with me. There we are, all five of us. In fairness, the other four are often bent over snoozing, a little joke the Wii likes to make because it's sometimes really early. (And my character, left to her own devices, likes to turn around, look at her backside, and then put her hand over her mouth in distress. Not cool, Wii Fit. Not cool.) But they all wake up and help me along. They all show up for step aerobics, or they run on the course with me (sometimes, one of them is my guide who runs in front), or they toss me hula-hoops, or they do kung-fu with me. But all in all, they show up. Even my mom and dad show up and cheer me on (or take a snowball or two in the face--they're troopers). And in the end, isn't that the reason to lose weight and be healthier? Yes, I want to be the best me I can be, and I can hear somebody out there wanting to empower me to want things for myself, etc. But really, at the end of the day, for me it's all about them.

5. Life is a course we run. I'd like to run it well, just like He set it out for me. There's a lot about a Wii Fit running course that is very similar to life. There are hills and valleys, there are some weird characters along the way, and there are some really unexpected turns. But the finish line is always marked with arrows and this thing that hovers over it like a tornado. You always know where you're headed. I can't always see exactly where I'm going at any given moment, but the end of my race--whenever it comes--is clearly marked. He has a path set out for me, and He lets me know along the way which way to turn. My job is to do it. And when I don't--when I think there's a shortcut that'll get me some place faster--I very often end up flying over a cliff into the water. And that's never good, my friends. Never.

Well, my friends, time to turn the Wii Fit on, step on, ignore the voice, and do a little kung fu fighting and step aerobics. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are running your race well, and that you are about to see some folks you really, really love, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

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