What true love is really waiting for

Sarah Beth and her sweet DJ

The Han and John John

Me and my sweet man

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

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

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

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

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

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

His,
Kellye

Stones, Sochi, and Standing Still

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His,
Kellye

The Patterns of His Faithfulness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His,
Kellye

I get by with a little help from my friends

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

Our gorgeous new entryway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His,
Kellye

Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters!

The sisters with Momma

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

The sisters with Daddy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His,
Kellye

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