Auf Wiedersehen, 2012!

Me and the Han headed to church on December 23rd.

John was the "lost American tourist" in the Christmas play at church. Evidently, all American tourists wear cowboy hats. Who knew? :)

With my man at Schonbrunn Palace...we are so much colder here than you can even imagine.

Not to us, O LORD, not to us but to Your Name be the glory, because of Your love and faithfulness. Psalm 115:1

There are yummy chocolate cupcakes baking in my flat this morning, and they are smelling SCRUMPTIOUS! Nothing says 'end of the year' like baking goodies. I love to bake. Unfortunately, I also love to eat said goodies. Hence, there will be no baking goodies for a while. It is a gorgeous morning in Wien--the third in a row of sunshine and no clouds. Since our fall/winter is generally gray, the sunshine is such a gift, and I'm thoroughly enjoying it in my sunroom. Every second of it. Seriously--Marc may regret having my space made into such a comfortable nook, because I really don't want to leave. :)

We have had what can only be described as a pretty much perfect holiday. Of course, we would love for SB and DJ to have been with us, but they are busily getting things done for the wedding, and they are so happy that it's hard to be sad about them not being here. It was really great--our traditional Christmas Eve gathering, full of people we love so much, then a quiet, restful, lazy Christmas, where we opened presents at our leisure, ate our traditional Hooks family breakfast, and talked and skyped with Sarah Beth and the rest of the family in the States. The last week has just been fun. We've played games, watched movies, gone to a great mall (just me and Han on that last one)...just relaxed. It's been wonderful. But I'm kind of ready to be done. Does that make sense? I'm not super great at relaxing, and there's only so much all-day relaxing I can do. You know what I mean? I'm ready to get back to work--on language, on plans for Sochi, on wedding plans...on life. Just normal life is a great thing to look forward to this year.

Sometimes, we find ourselves in seasons of testing. That's how I would describe 2012. It was a hard year for us in many ways. There were potholes we just didn't expect, a terribly unhappy child, my Dad's illnesses...just a difficult year. It was a year full of things I would not have chosen for myself or for the people I love. Because--naturally--I want things to always be smooth sailing, and that is definitely not how I would describe our year. But...and this is an important but...I have learned and grown and stretched more this year than I have in a while. And I've been doing the Jesus-follower thing long enough to know that the growing and stretching, though nearly always painful or at least uncomfortable, is necessary and important. Nothing really gets done in my life without it. Nothing. And so, though it's been a hard year for us, it's also been a year of searching for the positive, of learning what God has for us, of waiting on the Lord (sometimes because we didn't have a choice)...and for those things, I am so grateful. So here are a few things I learned this year:

• I am happiest when I'm busy serving.  I am not happy just sitting around. I can only clean so much. I can only cook so much. My kids are in school all day. I can't just sit here in my apron and read books. The happiest moments of 2012 were doing moments--times when I was helping someone with something. It makes me incredibly happy.

• Language #3 is harder than I expected, but still doable. Nothing causes me to whisper Philippians 4:11 to myself more than learning German while trying to also maintain some level of Russian. Terrible moment of the year: chitchatting with a mother from Ukraine, then realizing I haven't formally introduced myself, and then realizing that I cannot remember how to say, "My name is..." Bad moment. Terrible moment. But...important moment for me, because I desperately do not want to lose my Russian, so I realized that I have to really work at both languages. German is easier than Russian, but on top of Russian, it's difficult. Plus, let's face it...I'm no spring chicken. So it takes more work. But as I speak with people in my neighborhood and at church, I am more convinced than ever that I must master the heart language of the people I long to serve. 

• My kids are TOUGH. Nothing challenges me more than the hurts of my children. And this was a year of deep unhappiness for one of them. But I am so impressed with the sheer tenacity of kids who grow up overseas. They are resilient and resourceful, and they know the value of listening to people who have been where they are. Plus, because we have been overseas a while, my kids truly know that generally, things get better. You might not be happy, and you might make a complete fool of yourself in a language/culture that isn't your own, but hey--it'll make a great story some day.  

• God does not need me to handle things. I know. I should have mastered this by now. Call it a perk of my personality, but I really like to be in control. But it turns out that I don't always know best. In fact, I often am a total disaster. So I need to talk less, listen more, and let things go, trusting Him to handle whatever needs handling.

•  Prayer is more powerful than I can even fathom. Three months ago, my Dad's prognosis was pretty terrible. Everything we kept hearing from the doctors was awful. But then in walked a young surgeon who was pretty sure he could do what others were not willing to even try--remove the tumor that was causing so much trouble. Put together a really talented surgeon and the prayers of God's folks from all over the world, and my Dad is back cleaning the house and making my Mom's coffee. I could not have predicted that. Nobody predicted that. But by the time I arrived on December 4th, my Dad looked and acted like my Dad. That, my friends, is pretty miraculous.

• The great value of the body of Christ. We are to model Christ's love for the world to the world, and nothing does that better than our relationships with other believers. Little kindnesses, genuine love toward one another, a commitment to serve each other--it doesn't matter whether you're colleagues from our company, friends from the kids' school, members of our Austrian church, or friends from the States--the love you showed us this year and allowed us to return to you...well, it's a beautiful thing, and a testimony to the world about what the love of Christ really is. How we treat each other matters immensely.

I learned so much more than this, but some things are too personal for a public forum. I'm grateful for another year overseas, for our partners around Europe, for those who faithfully pray for us. And I'm thankful for all of you who--for reasons beyond my understanding--choose to read this blog. These are just the meanderings of my pen as I follow the journey that God has for me and mine, and that you choose to read them astounds me. So thanks for that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that 2013 will be a year in which you grow and stretch and become more and more the person God created you to be, and that you are baking Jungle Camp Chocolate Cake cupcakes for tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Home

The sisters and parents you hear so much about! Cathy is on my left, and Kay is on my right.

Yes, this is our sweet girl wedding shopping!

The happy couple. I can't believe our baby is getting married!

But I have trusted in Your lovingkindness; my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, because He has dealt bountifully with me. Psalm 13:5-6

Well, friends, it is a yucky, ugly morning in Vienna, Austria, this Christmas Eve. We have "freezing fog," which means if we lived in the hills that surround Vienna, our world would be covered in white hoarfrost--which is really, really beautiful. Since we don't, it means that we can barely see across the street from us. The fog in Vienna is honestly like no fog I have ever seen anywhere on earth. Seriously. It's thick. But who cares? It's Christmas Eve!!

I think I am over my jetlag, which is never as bad coming this way as it is going toward the States. I had a wonderful trip back to Florida. My sisters, Cathy and Kay, surprised me by flying in for a few days. (When I say surprise, I mean SURPRISE! There was a lot of screaming.) I got to visit with my parents, see for myself that my Daddy really is doing well, and attend the wedding of long-time friends. The wedding was particularly sweet for me. I've watched both the bride and groom grow up, and it was such a pleasure to see them so happy. Who doesn't love to see people you adore truly happy?!?! It was great. That my parents were also invited and attended with me was a sweet bonus. Plus, I got to see friends from my former life as a teacher, and I loved hearing how really wonderful things are at Fleming Island High School, which I will always consider my school. Of course, Sarah Beth was there the last five days I was there, and we got to celebrate her engagement to a wonderful guy and do some wedding shopping. So much fun and joy and giggling! It was really, really a great trip--fun and relaxing and great all around. And you know what was also really great? The moment the Austrian Air jet touched down in beautiful Vienna, and I teared up, because I was HOME.

If you want to be entertained, ask an MK where they are from, or where home is. We watched this happen to Hannah when we were in Germany at a conference. One of the volunteers (such a sweet group from Houston) asked Hannah, "So where are you from?" And Hannah looked like she'd been asked a really complicated chemistry question. She fumbled around for a while, trying to figure out what to say, before finally responding, "What do you mean? Where did we live in the States? Or where is home?" Because the truth is that the answer to those two questions is different. For Han and John, home is Austria. Our lives are firmly planted in Vienna. Look on the Facebook page of an MK, and very often their 'from' answer will not be in the States. I experienced some of this at church. "Is it good to be home?" sweet folks would ask. And of course, I knew what they meant, and I answered that yes, it was very good to be home. But in my brain, my immediate response was, "I'm not home." It wasn't that I wasn't enjoying myself or loving eating at Chik-fil-a and drinking Diet Dr. Pepper. I was loving every second with my parents and sisters and Sarah Beth. But home is Vienna.

Maybe this seems a weird subject for Christmas Eve. But to me, Christmas Eve is a great time to reflect on all that God has accomplished this year in our lives, and a HUGE thing He has accomplished is that Vienna has become our home. It's not just that we are content and know we are called here. It's not just that we are surviving. It's not even just that it's a lovely culture and a language that's 'doable.' We are truly happy in Vienna. Hear me on this--happiness is not guaranteed, nor is it necessary to fulfilling God's call on our lives. We are not promised happiness. But I am enjoying the perk of happiness in my life right now. Does that mean everything about our lives in Vienna is perfect? No, of course not. There is no perfect place. But that tension that exists when you are someone who lives outside of your own country has greatly diminished. We feel comfortable in German, and we grow more and more comfortable every day. (On a side note--a really nice moment for me was when I was coming home, and the Austrian Air flight attendants did not switch to English when they heard me speak. I sound like an American speaking German, but it was a nice thing for me that they knew I could respond to them and understand them in their language.) You're probably sick of hearing about it, but we love our neighborhood and our flat so much. We have a great Austrian church, where we are welcomed and included as part of the church. We are really happy with our team and Marc's job. We have great friends in Vienna. The kids are getting a good education and enjoying the perks that come with living overseas. Vienna is incredibly safe, and they have the run of the city as long as they have their phones. And we have ministry that is really developing in our life as a family. It's an exciting time in our lives.

Here's the thing about our happiness, though. We are enjoying it all the more because we weren't happy for a while. If all goes swimmingly 100% of the time, then the joy of things going really well is diminished a bit. One of the things about rejoicing in all circumstances is knowing that even in the darkest of seasons, brighter days are coming. And in our experience as Christians, brighter days come. Do we despair sometimes during a dark season? I'd love to tell you that we never despair because our faith is so huge, but that would be a lie. Sometimes, we fall into the sin of despair. But we are incredibly blessed with folks who love us and will remind us of the truth--brighter days come. The Father knows what He's doing. Hang on. I'm so thankful for sweet friends who don't allow us to wallow in whatever darkness surrounds us. I'm so thankful for people who speak the truth--always in love--into our lives. Because what we often need is not people who will tell us that our lives really are so hard and that we are right to feel sorry for ourselves, but people who will remind us that God has been, is, and will always be incredibly good to those He loves. And in the manger all those years ago, to the old, rugged cross, to the empty tomb--He has declared again and again His great, incredible, overwhelming love for us.

Well, friends, there are cookies to bake and Chex Mix to stir up and put in the oven. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that whether your season is dark or bright, you will rejoice in the joy of knowing that the Creator of the Universe holds you in His mighty right hand, and that you are looking forward to a day filled with people you really love. Blessings to you and yours--and Merry Christmas!

His,
Kellye

For all these blessings, make us truly thankful

Sweet university friends who helped us celebrate Thanksgiving and who make our lives in Wien so rich!

O give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; for His lovingkindness is everlasting. 1Chronicles 16:34

Well, friends, I am the only one up in this flat (except the cat), so I thought I'd fill you in on life in Wien. We have had two wonderful days of Thanksgiving celebrations. The first was Thursday, when we celebrated with two families here, gathering together for lots of food and laughter. The second was last night, when a group of university students came to eat and play games. We had a wonderful time, and our celebration lasted until midnight--which is why everyone else is still asleep. We laughed a lot, and (as always) we are grateful for this great group of "kids" that makes our lives so much better just by being a part of our lives. So today, we are taking it pretty easy--decorating our Christmas tree, eating leftover turkey, and watching football (Go Gators!). Sounds like a perfect way to unwind.

I've been doing the thankful thing on Facebook, listing something every day of November for which I am grateful. I have done that for a few years, now, and what I like about it is the chance to concentrate on being grateful. Because--well....you know...sometimes, I'm not so focused on that. Sometimes (don't tell!), I focus on the rotten, the mundane, the awful...and I forget to look at the many things for which I'm ridiculously thankful. So fun and also very good for me to do that, to make that habit and carry it into the rest of the year. Here are some things this Thanksgiving season for which I am truly, truly grateful:

Good artificial sweetener: I did not promise this would be deep and spiritual. :) I am really grateful for the little tablets I use in my coffee and tea. I am struggling with my weight (when am I NOT struggling with my weight?), and good artificial sweetener makes that fight a little easier. I also love my Wii Fit for the same reason. Plus, the yoga lady on my Wii Fit always tells me I have good posture, and that makes me feel really good about myself.

Austrian food: Really, there is nothing we can't get or make here. The quality of food is excellent, and while there are not really a lot of convenience foods (hence my war against the Japanese pumpkin I had to process in order to make dessert last night), everything we buy here is really, really good.

Surprise boxes from home: On Thanksgiving Day, literally minutes before we left for our friends' house, the Postman showed up with a box from my parents! In it were Thanksgiving plates and candy corn, a composition notebook for me, a penguin mug for Han, Peeps for the kids, and mint Three Musketeers for Marc. Want to see a bunch of Americans enjoy something? Pull out the candy corn. Seriously. I also used it to decorate last night. And it was fun to watch one of our Austrian friends try it for the first time. She liked it, just in case you were wondering. Candy corn--the universal language of love. But seriously--it's so nice to be remembered and planned for and thought about and known. Who doesn't want to be really known? Those things made our celebration better. We didn't have to have them. We didn't NEED them. But they brought a smile to our faces as we opened the box and found all those reminders that we are known, we are loved, we are missed. That's something to be grateful for, yes? Yes.

Good over-the-counter medicine: We brought OTC meds from the States, but we are definitely out of just about everything. (You can't ship medicine into Austria.) We have a really wonderful pharmacy, with truly kind people who are ridiculously helpful. (We keep thinking the folks in our neighborhood somehow missed the memo about being really rude and unwelcoming to foreigners.) This week's treasures: really good salve (like Neosporin but stronger) and cough medicine. (On a side note, we also learned the word for mucus/phlegm/snot--Schlaim. Yep. Like slime but with a 'sh' sound. So pleasing.) Maybe that seems like a silly thing to be thankful for, but there's something really comforting about being able to walk into a pharmacy and describe what's wrong and ask for help. Good stuff. Plus, they are really, really kind to us, and they wait until we leave to laugh at whatever weird gesture we've made to describe our ailments.

Our neighborhood/apartment/city: I've talked about it before, but we love it. We really do. Our apartment was all dressed up last night, and standing on the landing and looking down, with all the candles lit and everything so pretty, my heart was really full. I'm so grateful to live in a place we love. Our neighborhood is full of really kind, welcoming people. Honestly. We could not be happier with where we live. And Wien is a city full of history and culture and beauty. I am always amazed at its nooks and crannies, places to explore, great museums, and incredible public transportation. It doesn't mean we don't have days in which the culture gets to us--we're Americans, after all, and this sure isn't America--but those days are really tempered by our great love for where we are.

Learning German: Okay, this one may sound weird to you. But more and more, my brain turns automatically to German instead of Russian. The other day in the grocery store, I was chatting with the cashier, and I made a comment that was intended to be funny. And she laughed. And so did everyone else in line. And not in that poor-foreigner-who-speaks-like-a-toddler-so-let's-giggle-uncomfortably-as-she-makes-mistakes kind of way. Nope. It was a genuine chuckle. And then I realized that I hadn't really thought about what I was saying. I'd just said it. That was a huge triumph for me, because my main problem (in life!!) is that I think too much. Now--I'm not fluent, and it's going to be a while before I speak German comfortably all the time. But I can see that happening. Some day, I'm going to understand every sermon. I'm going to speak without saying, 'um.' I am going to. And oh!! what a day that will be. 

Being home and not homesick: Of course, we miss Sarah Beth. Of course, we miss our parents and friends in the States. Of course. But I have to tell you--I don't long for the States. We are enjoying this season of Sarah Beth's life, even though we are enjoying it from across the ocean. Her happiness, her future, her success in the life she has chosen...it's hard to be sad when she is so happy. Our parents are well, so we don't have that sense of being torn between two places. And best of all, when I think 'home,' the image that flashes in my mind is our little flat in Wien, our neighborhood between the two branches of the Danube river, our church here. This is home. That is an amazing work of our great, incredible God. Because what is in His hand for me, for us--that is where home lies. It's not geographic. It might sometimes look geographic. But it's not. It's a matter of trusting Him and knowing that--even when we don't feel it to be true--He knows us and wants our very best. And His very best is home.

I'm so grateful for so many things--this is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. But above all, I'm thankful that Jesus loves me, that He knows me, that He is faithful and trustworthy, and that He chooses to have a relationship with me. Because out of that flows everything else, and the everything else part of my life is what brings deep happiness and contentment. And that is definitely something for which we can all be thankful. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your day is looking pretty lazy and rejuvenating, and that you are going to watch the Gators beat those silly Noles tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

10,000 Reasons

Ummmmm....I actually live here. This is my neighborhood. Is that incredible, or what?!? (Props to my man for the beautiful photography.) 

You're rich in love/ and You're slow to anger/ Your name is great/ and Your heart is kind/ For all Your goodness I will keep on singing/ Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find. --Matt Redman

We are home from our conference in Germany, and I'm doing laundry like a madwoman in order to get Marc ready to go out the door at the crack of dawn on Monday for a trip to Hamburg, Germany. Mixed in with the laundry and a quick visit to a church bazaar here in Wien, I also have to make up all the homework I didn't get done while I was at the conference, so this looks to be a crazy busy day. (I spoke a lot of German at the conference. Do you think that counts?!?) But I wanted to take a few minutes and just check in with you and catch you up on what God is doing over here in our part of the world.

The conference we attended was for first-term people in our company, people finishing their first year on the field. Of course, we aren't actually first-termers, but we were invited because it is our first career term with the company, and we were really glad we got the invitation and accepted it. It was really the best conference I've been to with our company, and that's saying something--we have great stuff all the time. Everything was well-prepared. It was a mix of spiritual and practical. (One thing I was really grateful to have was a list of language smart goals. Things like memorizing the books of the Bible in your new language. You'd be surprised at how much of that kind of stuff gets lost in the shuffle of memorizing that the table is male, etc.) We had great child care, and there was incredible worship music (auf Englisch!) and Bible study. But, of course, the best stuff was the one-on-one, where are you and how are you doing kind of stuff. I'm an introvert, and that kind of stuff can be intimidating to me--especially when I feel like everyone else knows each other and we're going to be the weird old people in the room. But I felt really at ease from the beginning, and I thoroughly enjoyed every single second of the conference. I'm really grateful to work for a company that works hard in difficult financial times to invest in things--like this conference--that contribute to our longevity. Renewal, relaxation, a new commitment to the work--these are things that help us last. And I really want to last.

One of my favorite songs was sung a few times during the week, and it made my heart so happy. If you don't know Matt Redman's "10,000 Reasons," you must go to iTunes right now and buy it. It is absolutely one of the greatest songs ever written. (Ok, I know that's just my opinion. But seriously--go buy it.) I love everything about it, but I especially love the idea of just blessing God's name. Not necessarily because life is grand, because sometimes (often?!), life here is a big mash of chaos and crazy. And by life here, I mean on earth, not in Europe. :) Truthfully--I have never lived anywhere that I thought was easy. Not Florida, not Russia, not Austria. Living the life God planted in my heart, choosing to be where I am, no matter where I want to be...these are tough things for everyone, aren't they? So it's not a song that says, "Hey, God. Thanks for doing _____________ and making my life so easy and great." Because I don't know how true that is for the real Christian experience. Maybe that's just not how He works in my life. Maybe your life is easy sailing, because God has chosen to make it that way. If so, you need to write a book and make a million dollars, because I'm pretty sure you're the only Christian alive who has had that experience. But the song just blesses His name for the things He is. He is rich in love and slow to anger. He does make the sun come up every morning. He is good. Beyond measure, beyond words, beyond my capability to explain...His goodness overwhelms every aspect of my life. He is faithful and true and sure, and He loves me. Loves ME. Kellye. The big mash of chaos and crazy. I'll never get over it. I really won't.

One of the things God is teaching my heart--and our family's heart--is to be grateful in whatever circumstances we find ourselves. Because I have seen and tasted the Lord's absolute and utter goodness, I know He has only my best in His heart. When good times come--rejoice! When bad times come--rejoice! That is work sometimes for me. Sometimes (gasp!), I am not very grateful for the goodness and mercy and lovingkindness He showers on my life every day. Three incredible kids who love each other and are close. A husband who adores me and treats me far better than I deserve. Parents who raised me to love Jesus and others. A family legacy of loving God and serving mankind. C'mon. My life is full of His very best. Yet it is often true that I overlook those things. I want things to be easy. For me, certainly. But much more for my kids. When struggle and doubt and hard times come into their lives, it pains me. It makes me question. Why, God? We haven't given up enough? You have to make it hard, too? But oh, my friends...that's dangerous territory. Because here's the thing: if my giving up and sacrificing is what brings good things into my life and our lives, then God is not at all who He says He is. If I can earn a little bit better for my family by giving stuff up and being "spiritual," then He has lied. And I know for sure that He hasn't. And so whatever is in His plan for me comes out of His faithfulness and love and mercy and His incredible plan for my life and my family's life. I haven't earned any of the blessings in my life. He just loves me that much. I'm awestruck at that, mostly because I know myself. I am the most undeserving person. Given the chance, I'm truly awful. Ask anybody. :) But the God of the Universe not only loves me, gave His son for me, saved me...He has invited me on this incredible adventure with the people I love most in the world, this chance to watch Him do things only He can do. Hallelujah! Amen.

Well, my friends, there is German homework and laundry calling my name. (Not literally. Don't worry.) One of the things we're learning is that John and Hannah have spent so much of their lives outside of American English that they really don't have a clear grasp of American idioms. I've started to ask--do you know what that means?--because often, they don't. So I wanted you to know that the laundry and homework are not actually speaking to me, just in case you were nervous about that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that during this Thanksgiving week, you have more than ten thousand reasons that your heart has found to be grateful to our incredible God, and that you are headed to a Christmas bazaar today, too. Blessings to you and yours!!

His,
Kellye

Looking for rest in all the wrong places

This will only mean something if you've been to my flat--but notice that the snow is hiding the big building under construction.

I woke up to snow this morning!

This is the best I could do to capture how hard it is snowing--but it is seriously coming down!

Now the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will personally restore, establish, strengthen, and support you after you have suffered a little. 1Peter 5:10
  
<sup>Well, friends, to say that it is beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Vienna this morning is an understatement! I've been up since 3:45, and it has been pouring snow since I got up. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. Now, it'll melt tomorrow, so no worries that we are in for snow from now until Spring, but I'm enjoying sitting at my kitchen table and watching it snow. I like snow. I really do. (Somewhere, Sarah Beth is groaning, because she HATES snow.) I do not like ice, but snow is pretty. 

My flat is quiet this morning. Our guests from Czech Republic returned home yesterday, and our Fall break starts today, so everyone (except me, of course) is taking advantage of the chance to sleep in. We had planned a trip to Budapest this week, but changed our mind. With Daddy recovering in Florida, a hurricane/winter storm bearing down on Marc's parents in Maryland, and summer travel plans that look expensive, we decided to save the money and not be out of town. But there are beautiful day trips from Vienna, and we are looking forward to those. (If our Austrian friend, Greta, reads this--we are going to Bratislava, and not just to Tesco, per your instructions!) I don't really mind being up early this morning. It's so peaceful to watch the snow, to sip coffee, to read my Bible. It brings a sense of restfulness to my day, and rest, well...it's quite the commodity in the Hooks house these days.

Many of you know that Marc has been having some troubling symptoms of a health problem. Honestly, we thought it was his heart. If you know Marc's parents, you know that his family's heart history is not exactly pristine, so we are always cautious about anything that could be a sign of heart problems. And these symptoms have been really scary. So he went to the doctor last week, and the doctor diagnosed a "lung problem" which requires him to use an inhaler, and clinical exhaustion. Sweet folks, well-meaning friends, have suggested that he take a nap or get a particularly good night's sleep. And, of course, there is an element of needing sleep, but that's not really the problem the doctor identified. It's not sleep he prescribed. It's rest. And the things he talked about with Marc...less stress, less pressure, more time relaxing...they are not the results of a few nights' lack of sleep, but a problem we have faced since coming to Vienna. Where do we find rest?

Now, before you blame this on Marc's job or his travel schedule (I've already gotten emails), I will tell you that those two things are sources of great joy for Marc. He loves his job. He loves what he does. He loves the opportunity not just to travel, but to make connections with so many people all over Europe and the world. That feeds his soul. Those things are not the problem. And listen--this is not a Hooks problem. I am hearing these stories from all over the world. We're tired. We're exhausted. We need a break. Rarely are those comments coming from people who hate their job. Nope. They're coming from people who, like we have, are looking for rest in all the wrong places. (Get the reference to the old song? Get it? See what I did? Hehehehehee...I tickle myself.) 

We love Vienna. We adore Austria. We could not love this city more. And we love the work we do for Southern Baptists. Our lives are good and sweet in so many ways. But we often take things on ourselves that aren't ours to take. We worry. We are anxious. We want to be perfect. (In language, in ministry, in writing, in video work, in parenting, in our marriage...name something. We want to be perfect in it.) We pray and give things to God, but pick them right back up and strap them on our shoulders again--the salvation of beloved friends, Daddy's health, the Engage Sochi project, our relationship with our Austrian church, learning yet another language. And like you, we have other stresses that are too personal to share in a public format. Suffice to say that this past year has been one of the most stressful times we have experienced in our family's life.  And though we have tried very hard to keep the stress under control, to relieve the pressure we feel, to make our lives restful and calm...well, obviously, we have pretty much failed at that. So where do we go from here?

This isn't one of those blogs where I have the answer tied up in a neat bow, where I can end it with a description of how cool and super spiritual we are in our solution to this problem. I can't. You know why? I don't know the answer. I know that Jesus is the answer, of course. He is our rest. He is our peace. For sure that's true. But how that plays out for us in a practical way...well, as SB would say, we're working on it. A friend suggested that we take a look at our Sabbath practice. Do we have Sabbath practices? Or are we so caught up in running from one place to another that we never give ourselves the chance to really take the opportunity to rest? I don't know the answer to that. It's something we are praying over. Here is what I do know--this is an issue of the heart. We DO have a heart problem, it turns out--just not the one we thought we were looking at. The problem here is that in our hearts, we have tried really hard to be in charge and control. But in a year of "perfect storm" events--one hard thing after another, one stressful situation after another--we have tried to act like we had it all together. So here is the honest truth: we don't.  We are often a big mess. We love our parents and our kids and our friends, and we want only good things for them, and when there are things in their lives and ours that are out of our control, bad things, sometimes terrible things--it's stressful. We want to make life good for everyone. We want everyone to know Jesus and His love and salvation. And when we can't make that happen...it's stressful for us. And the past year has worn us out. Like so many people in ministry, we're exhausted, not just in our bodies...but in our souls, where the exhaustion is nearly palpable.    

So, we're working on it. We really are. We spent the weekend laughing with people we really love. Laughter is excellent medicine, for sure. We are developing some really close relationships in Vienna, some old, some new, and that is helpful, too. And there are little moments that are so encouraging--like yesterday, at the end of our church service, when the whole church held hands and sang "Blessed be the Tie that Binds" together--auf Deutsch, of course, but quite touching despite the language barrier. So this isn't a blog post about how God has worn us out in ministry--not at all. Don't walk away with that. Again--we love our city, we love Austria, we love our work. But none of those things are necessarily a prescription for rest. And we need rest. So pray for us, won't you? As we seek rest and identity not in what we can do, how perfectly we can speak however many languages God has in store for us, how many videos or articles or whatever we can produce. Because here is our identity: while we were sinners, Christ died for us. He loves us. He believes in us. He has us here. He, and He alone, is our peace. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your lives are full of the joy that comes from serving a risen Savior, and that you are enjoying the snow there, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye</sup>  

 

Being the Body

So what does one do while awaiting word from a distant land? One studies German, that's what. :)

This kid is growing like a weed. Where did our little boy go?

Beautiful flowers from a friend helped me through Friday.

Let love of the brethren continue. Hebrews 13:1

It's a FOOOOOOGGGGGGYYYYYY morning in Vienna. I mean foggy foggy. Not just a little. You can't see buildings, it's so foggy. Vienna sits kind of in a bowl, surrounded by hills (not mountains--don't make that mistake. Austrians will look very confused if you talk about the mountains around Vienna, even if you are from Florida, the flattest place on the planet), and when it's foggy, which it is fairly often this time of year, it does not do it half-way. It goes full out in the fogginess. That, by the way, is related to absolutely nothing in this post--just my little comment on how foggy it is in Vienna. :) Some of you who read this blog are people who believe what I believe and think like I think. Some of you, however, are not. You are former students or colleagues or friends I've amassed over the years, bright, wonderful parts of my life, but you would not count yourselves as followers of Jesus Christ. The common complaint I hear from you is that when you look at Christians, you are not impressed. We don't treat each other well. We eat our young, so to speak, pushing people out of their new-found faith by insisting that they wear certain things or prove their salvation. We are hypocrites. We can't take a joke. We are judgmental and awful, and we are an unappealing group, taken as a whole. (And you know, of course, my answer, because I've given it to many of you individually over the years--follow Jesus, not His followers, because we are a messed up bunch. He, however, is spectacular.) I know the arguments against being a Christian. I also know that from the outside, many of those things appear to be absolutely true. We have often forgotten the true test of Christianity--love. Love. Love. Love. We hear it again and again from Jesus, from His first followers...love each other. It is our love that draws others to Him. It's just that sometimes, we forget and mess up and don't love. We don't love each other. We don't love those who don't believe. We don't love Him.

But let me give a plug for Jesus' followers. While it's true that we are messed up and goofy and often hateful...sometimes we show up and act exactly like we're supposed to--in love. It's no secret, friends, that this past week has been long and hard. Awful. It's been awful. I have been vague about details, because this is a public forum, and it's my parents' decision as to what they tell and don't. But it was not a great prognosis a month ago. Surgery was too risky, too dangerous. Then a second opinion said it was doable, though still risky and dangerous. It's been stressful for my sisters in the States, stressful for my kids, stressful for our parents...stressful. And to be a continent away...unspeakably awful. To add insult to injury, Marc was in Prague all week. (A trip planned long before the surgery, so nothing to be done about it.) So there I sat on Friday, waiting for news, waiting to hear something...alone. (If you don't think I was holding a pity party about being alone, you give me credit for more maturity than I deserve!) But you know what? I wasn't alone at all. (Of course, I had Jesus. I know. I'm talking about Christians here, though.) Messages started arriving Thursday from around the world. (I counted five continents.) A friend showed up with fresh banana bread and a beautiful bouquet. I talked to my sisters and parents before and during the surgery. Friends showed up to sit with my Mom and sister. And then we all rejoiced when the news was good--no organs removed or even touched, a tumor gone, the surgery better than had been hoped for.

You're thinking to yourself that all people, Christians or not, are kind in the midst of a crisis. Perhaps that's true. But this morning, a friend is going with Marc to the doctor, just in case the doctor doesn't speak English and Marc's German isn't good enough, something he volunteered to do. Yesterday, at our sweet Austrian church that we fall a little more in love with every week, a lady told me after a conversation explaining who we are and why we're there (and why our German is so...unusual), that she appreciated that we could live in Vienna without ever speaking German, because so many people here speak English, but we were learning German anyway. What an encouragement! People stopped to speak to me. John had a great Sunday School class, where they never seem irritated that they have to slow down for him. Hannah stayed after because the youth were putting together some praise music, and they wanted her to stay and sing with them. They aren't just nice. We're theirs. We belong there. Not because we are particularly wonderful, or because they are just so nice, but because we all recognize that we are God's family--no matter what language we speak. These are the ties that bind. This common love for the Savior, this common understanding that we are sinners saved by incredible, overwhelming, unspeakable grace...this gives us a love for one another that cannot be understood or explained outside of the massive love our Father has for us.

You know why Jesus and Paul and Peter and James all reminded us about loving each other, loving the brethren or the brotherhood? Because they knew how awful people can be. They knew it was sometimes hard to love each other. They knew that we would be stinky and rotten a lot, that we would feel that we had the right to tear each other apart in the name of "discipline." They knew, because people are people are people, and apart from Christ, we're all pretty stinky. And trust me--be around His church for any amount of time, and someone will hurt your feelings, will say something just awful to you that makes you want to scream, will look you up and down and find you wanting. But that's not Jesus--that's human nature in all its "glory." When we allow Jesus to really inhabit our lives in a significant way, when we stop living for us and live for Him, instead, when we give up our "rights" for His glory and our good...when we actually function as the Body of Christ...it's a beautiful thing. Gorgeous to see. Humbling to behold. And if that isn't an encouragement to you on a foggy, autumn morning, then you just don't want to be encouraged.

Well, time to walk and study German and do some other writing and just generally get moving on this Monday morning. Wherever you are in the world...thank you, thank you, thank you for praying for me, my sisters, and my parents. I smile upon every remembrance of each of you. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The value of I don't know

My favorite--the Votive Church in Vienna...one of my former students said it reminded her of the beginning of Beauty and the Beast, and I think that's perfect.

O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; my soul thirsts for You, my flesh yearns for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Psalm 63:1

If I had to pick one thing I say more in German than anything else, it would be "Ich weiß nicht," or I don't know. In Russian, the very first thing I learned to say was, "я не понимаю," or I don't understand, and that's a little bit different, isn't it? And in the difference between those two phrases is, at least to me, a picture of one thing I've really learned (the hard way!) in the last five years--the value of admitting that I don't know.

Let's get something straight: I like knowing stuff. I like very much to be right. And I'm very competitive. I wanted to be the best teacher, the best mother, the best wife...not just good or excellent at those things, but the best. I hate losing a game. I hate even more not knowing something. But in the last five years I've learned the value of facing up to what I don't know. And--isn't this true of all of us as we grow and mature, both as people and as Christians--the vast amount of what I don't know is pretty staggering. And I've learned the value of seeing myself in light of how Christ views me instead of how I view myself or how others view me.

When I started learning Russian, in fact the entire time I studied it, I was terrified that people would know I wasn't getting it. I don't understand became a way for me to fall back on the "I'm a language student" position, and ask people to slow down. I still say I don't understand, though I more often ask people to repeat something a little slower auf Deutsch. (I understand women better than men. Is that weird, do you think?) Because I was afraid of people knowing how little Russian I was actually grasping, I became even more scared of speaking to Russians. Because for sure, they would know. I can count to ten for you in several languages now, and that might impress an American who doesn't know those languages, but it's not going to impress a native speaker of those languages, right? So my inability to admit that I was struggling, that I didn't know the answer to something (or even what the question was) became a problem that inhibited me from making relationships. Now, I did get past this, and I have some tremendous relationships with Russian-speakers, both in Russia and the Czech Republic, so I'm not saying I was a total failure. But I might have gotten to those relationships faster and with more depth if I'd been willing to admit that I wasn't following all that was being taught to me. Why did I feel that way? Why was I so hesitant to admit that I was struggling? First, because I am an academic, and I didn't want people to know that I was struggling with something academic. Second, because I was comparing myself to those around me. And you know what? Many of them had been there 7,8, 10 years and spoke fluently. What in the world was I doing comparing myself to them? (And that, by the by, was not their fault. They weren't comparing themselves with me, after all. They knew firsthand how hard the language was.) The sin of this, the real damage I'd done to myself and my ability to really get the language was shown to me in one crystal-clear moment. Marc was in Russia, and I was in Prague, right after church one Sunday, standing with people I considered giants (still do) on the metro platform, waiting for the train. To one of them, I apologized for my poor Russian. (We were all working on a Russian church plant in Prague.) He looked at me and very, very pointedly said, "I've been speaking Russian for 15 years, Kellye. It took me a long time to learn it, and even longer to get good at it. Cut yourself a break. You don't need to apologize to me." He doesn't know it, but that one moment turned around my thinking and my practice of learning language. I speak as much German as I do now because he said that to me three years ago. I did cut myself a break. And I promised myself that I would admit when I didn't know something in order to learn better.

I make five thousand errors a day in German. I just got back a written exercise, something I spent hours putting together, and it is absolutely demolished with corrections. (Smile. Somewhere out there thousands of former AP/IB/AICE students are giggling just a little.) I speak to people on the bus, at markets, at the grocery, at the pharmacy--anywhere anyone will engage me. And you know what? Sometimes my accent is so American that they can't understand me. And it hurts. It really does. Because I am working my heart out here. But here's what I've learned. I can only do what I can do. I can only learn as fast or as much as I can learn. And everyone in Vienna with our company speaks better than I do. But God is God, whether I know the answer or even the question being asked. God is God when I can engage people well auf Deutsch, and He's still God when they look at me like I'm speaking some language from Mars. And the value of I don't know is this: when I don't know, He does. And when I admit that I don't know, I make it possible for someone to teach me. And having a teachable spirit and a teachable heart...well, that's worth any number of ridiculous language errors.

Of course, this has lots of applications in life, doesn't it? Not just language learning, but every day living, I think. The most important thing I ever said in a classroom (outside of "your English teacher loves you/is crazy about you/thinks you're terrific") was, "I don't know. I can look it up, but I don't know it off the top of my head." As we plan and pray for wisdom and strategy to reach this city (and any other city), I have to think that God honors the value of a broken heart that sighs, "Lord, I don't know. I don't know how to do it. Show me." In marriage, in parenting, in friendship...the freedom of admitting that we don't know something opens up incredible doors...for relationships to grow deeper as you find out together, for marriages to grow stronger as you rely upon one another, for parenting to become about what He knows and who He is instead of what we know and who we are. But all of that has to start with those three words: I don't know.

Well, lots to do before my Deutsch lesson today--laundry, groceries, dinner in the crockpot, more studying, of course--so I'd better run. Since this is Wednesday, and I likely won't write again this week, I would ask that you pray for my parents and sisters and I (and, of course, our families) on Friday, as my Daddy goes in for surgery to remove a tumor. European friends, they won't start until about 4 in the afternoon our time on Friday. But if you would say a quick prayer for him, his doctors, his family, his health...we would all count it a blessing. Thanks for that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know (and don't have to learn the hard way) the value of admitting what you don't know and relying on the One who knows everything, and that you are enjoying a gorgeous fall day where you are, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye