O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree!

My saddest Christmas decoration...and one of my favorites.

Our sweet advent calendar. If you're wondering, it's stuffed with Scripture and chocolate umbrellas.

Me and my man in our beautiful city after John's Christmas concert...yes, my hair is as long as it looks here. :)

The people who walk in darkness will see a great light; those who live in a dark land, the light will shine on them. Isaiah 9:2

It's cold and gray outside, but I'm sitting in my cozy apartment with my Christmas tree lit up, sipping hot tea from my beautiful Polish pottery tea set with the reindeer and holly berries, so life is pretty sweet. We went to John's Christmas concert last night in a beautiful church here in Wien, then walked around downtown before getting Burger King for supper and heading home. It was REALLY cold, but who cares when you live someplace that looks so gorgeous? Wien is beautiful year-round, to be sure, but she does some of her very best work at Christmas. Your city might have Christmas decorations, but ours has big chandeliers lining the walkway. Seriously. It's gorgeous. Marc said last night that living in Wien during Advent is like living in a Christmas carol for one month every year. And it's true. It is like that. Not that normal life doesn't go on, and not that there aren't still stresses and problems to deal with, because there are. But there is something lovely about living someplace that does Advent/Christmas so well.

And my little apartment is so CUTE! I am not a decorator, but Marc does a fine job of putting stuff together, and there are cute little decorations all over the place, including our sweet Christmas tree. Yes, it's artificial, but it is a really pretty artificial tree that I got from amazon for a steal, and it looks great every year. And different decorations, of course, have different meaning to me. Some are funny--little things the kids have made over the years, the ugliest ornaments on earth (a gift from two dear friends in Florida that has--literally--traveled with me wherever I've gone), precious mementos of places we've lived and people we've loved...just like your place, every little thing has meaning or reminds me of some precious memory. But of all our beautiful decorations, one of my favorites is also probably the ugliest. It's three little trees, decorated in gold ornaments, in three little wicker baskets. Those trees are cheap, they are bendable, they do not necessarily fit in with the beautiful decor from our time in Austria. But it's their meaning, the memories they bring to mind, the reminder they convey that makes them so special.

If I live in a Christmas carol here, that was not the case in Moscow. First of all, Russians celebrate Christmas in January, so December 25th is just another day to them. There is no silent night on Christmas Eve if you live in a construction zone, which we did. And the big holiday in Russia is New Year's, which is a giant BIG DEAL. So there are Christmas-y things around, trees, etc., but they are (or at least were, then) mostly for New Year's. By our second Christmas there, those things didn't bother me as much, especially because my Daddy and nephew came to visit, and I was 'used to' the way things were done in Russia. But that first Christmas, after only a couple of months there, with culture shock completely taking over our lives, the pressure of studying the language and homeschooling three kids...well, let's just say I was feeling a little Grinch-y. And to make things worse, Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday that year, so we went to church, which sounds like it would be very Christmas-y. But remember, it's not Christmas Eve in Russia. It's just December 24th. So no mention was even made of Christmas. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, then stood outside the Korean Church that met in the same building, crying and listening to them sing Christmas carols in Korean. No kidding. I was pitiful. Then--just to make sure I spread the joy--I went home and made my poor sister, Cathy, miserable by sobbing on the phone to her. (Ask her, she will tell you--worst Christmas EVER.) I hadn't had the foresight to pack Christmas cookie cutters, so our Christmas cookies were more blobbish than star-like. As I sat in my Moscow apartment, looking at the snow and ice, I felt completely justified in my misery. Totally and completely justified.

Of course, things took a turn that evening. We celebrated with dear friends, had a lovely time of worship together, and laughed until we cried. By the time we got home, I did feel better. And Christmas the next morning was lovely. It might have just been another day to the workmen constructing the building in front of ours, but in the Hooks Hacienda, it was definitely Christmas. We skyped with family, ate traditional foods (okay, they had to be tweaked a little), opened presents, and just generally made merry. Yes, we missed our family. And yes, we missed all the fun of Christmas in Florida (hot tub, anyone?). But we really had a nice day.

So what does that have to do with three ugly little trees that we've kept all these years? That first year, they were the only decorations we could find and afford. We also had three blue ones, but I have no clue where they are. I actually think Sarah Beth found them at a grocery store in our neighborhood and brought them home. That was also the year that she randomly found a coffee mug with Florida written on the side. (She was always a very good scavenger--finding the stuff I was in too much of a hurry to see.) Why keep them? Well, certainly they remind us of that first year, of how poor we were, or how things really did turn out okay in the end. They have sentimental value, for sure, representing our first Christmas overseas, how far we've come, and how much we've grown. But for me, they mostly are a reminder that Christmas isn't about me. The joy of Christmas has nothing to do with how well-decorated my apartment is, how great my situation is, how beautiful my city is, or how much money I have to buy presents and decorations. There is nothing wrong with enjoying all those things, and I do. But the joy of Christmas is the Good News of Jesus. No matter how much they light up downtown Wien, we still live among a people who have walked and are walking in darkness. And no matter where you are when you are reading this, you live among people who have walked and are walking in darkness. But there is light, friends. And that Light has come that we may have life--abundantly! You know why we ended up having a good Christmas that first year overseas? Because no matter where we are, no matter whether it's Christmas there or not--good news of great joy for all people is this--a child was born in Bethlehem. And He saved us from our sins. He saved me. Joy to the world, indeed.

Well, there are Christmas cards to write, meetings to arrange, and cookies to be baked. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that the good news of Jesus brings you great joy year-round, and that you are setting your DVR to record The Sound of Music tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours! And Merry Christmas!

His,
Kellye

I love Facebook...and I hate it

Han and a friend from BFA--what a blessing to get to see her so happy!

We never did get a totally successful family pic this weekend, so this is as close as we came to it.

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O LORD, my rock and my Redeemer.  Psalm 19:14

Whew! What a weekend! We had the choir from Black Forest Academy, including our darling Han, here for the weekend on choir tour. We had a blast, but by the time we saw them off yesterday morning early, we were WORN OUT! We had such a great time, though. If I had to pick a favorite moment of them being here (besides having all of them--52 in all--squeezed into our apartment), I would have to say their performance at our church here in Wien. We love our church, and to have them there and see the kindness and enthusiasm with which they were welcomed was really encouraging to our hearts. And the kids! Well, if you've read this at all, you know of my love for all teenagers (it's a sickness, really), so to have time with this many at once...heavenly. A gift from God. That we also got to be with dear colleagues and laugh and talk and pray and all the other stuff we love about the body of Christ...just bonus blessings. I'm reminded, yet again, that just when I think I can comprehend the blessings God has showered on my life, He just heaps on more. Goodness gracious--to be loved by the God of Everything is great!

This week, of course, it's back to reality. Laundry. Housecleaning. Expense Reports. And Thanksgiving, of course. But mostly, it's just the normal life for us this week. That means working on mundane stuff--sorry, but I'm including my expense report in that--and also some really fun stuff, like an Advent project for the kids at our Russian-language church. In other words--just normal stuff. Because isn't every week, every day, every second filled with whatever 'normal' is for each of us? And that's a mixture of mundane, fun, encouraging, discouraging...whatever life is doling out at this particular moment, day, or season. And that's where Facebook can be a boon and a blessing, or it can be a real problem.

I love Facebook. I have a Twitter account, but I don't really understand it. I just have it so I can follow my girls. But I love Facebook. I love seeing all your pictures, and hearing about your triumphs or your funnies or your goofy life. I love praying for you and sending you encouraging notes. I love posting pics so that my parents and sisters can keep up with my kids and participate in their lives. And I love the sweet, encouraging notes I get from family, colleagues, friends, and former students. Some days, on really dark days, those notes...they are literally gifts from a loving God. They really are.

I also detest Facebook. I am put off by political rants. I detest those things that say I don't love Jesus if I don't click 'like' on something. I do not like the anger or the entitledness or the bad things I sometimes see on Facebook. But the thing I like the least is my own tendency to be judgmental, passive aggressive, or fake on Facebook.

Here's the thing: I'm not ever going to post a political rant. I'm a Jesus girl, and I'm pretty serious about it, so the chances of you thinking I don't love Jesus because I don't click 'like'--I'm not really worried about that. And I try to be very careful about the things I share, just in case someone might be offended or turned away from Jesus by it. (I'm not always successful at that. I tend to overlook stuff that in my brain I'm just ignoring, like bad language.) But it is in my nature--and yours--to look at someone else and feel superior. It is in my nature--and yours--to post passive-aggressive statuses about people we genuinely love but are too cowardly to confront. And it is in my nature--and yours--to want everyone to think I have it all together.

So here is my disclaimer. My Facebook is generally positive, because at this point in my life, I am working really hard at being positive in who Jesus is and not whatever my circumstances are. But sometimes, my cat's litter is smelly and I don't want to clean it up. Sometimes, there are stacks of dishes in my sink. I have a fruit fly problem I cannot get rid of. There are weeks where I put 'take a shower every day' on my to-do list, in order to make sure I don't just stay in my Gator jammie pants all day. I struggle with my weight and my self-image. I can be grouchy and awful. In fact, left to my own devices, I AM grouchy and awful. I can be unpleasable. And I sometimes think I am better than other people. While it's not pretty, that is reality.

Here, though, is the good news, quite literally: in all my yuck, whether I show it to you on Facebook or not, Jesus loves me. He is never content to leave me in the messes of my own making. He sees me as someone created by God, someone with potential, someone who can, in His power, not be anxious about anything, but with prayer and thanksgiving, praise Him for everything. He sees the real me, and He loves me, anyway. And He loves all those other people--the political ranters, the Jesus 'like'rs, the angry, the passive-aggressive, the superior--just as much. He died for my junk just like He died for yours. And if I really concentrate on who He is, on how much He loves me, on how much He loves you, too...then I can exercise some control and keep my statuses free of the passive-aggressive and superior. I can be truly thankful. I don't have to be ugly or sarcastic or nasty on my wall or on yours...unless you're a Georgia fan. And then you kind of get what you get. (That was for my Russia family. You know who you are.) But really, no joke...if I keep my eyes on who He is, then I can love everyone, no matter if they agree with me or not, no matter if their politics are the same as mine, no matter if they aren't all that lovable. Because He loves us. He really does. I know it firsthand. Because I really was lost, and now I really am found...by the God of the Universe. It's a pretty great thing.

I love following you guys, knowing what your kids are doing, praying over your hurts, sharing in your joys...I really do. My goal is--and I'm pretty sure this isn't original to me--to use Facebook as a way to love people better, more completely, in a more Christ-like fashion. If that means telling a joke or passing on something silly someone said (usually John or I, by the way), then I'm up for that. If it means posting pictures of my girls and boy and their lives, you know I'm ALL about that. And if it's speaking a little bit of encouragement into your life, then I'm so honored to do that. Because each of you, in your own way, make my life better. Thanks for that. Really. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you love this season of thankfulness, and that your expense report is already finished. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Pumpkins, shots, and beautiful feet: A challenge to Southern Baptists

One of my favorite pictures from our retreat--Dad and his boy share a moment on the Adriatic.

Me and my men...I am a blessed woman.

Working, working, working...making the schedule for volunteers was no little task.

How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.” Isaiah 52:7

I'm taking a much-needed break from cleaning toilets this morning to write this. You see, today is the day Marc comes home. He's been gone a lot in October, and I've been really sick a lot in October, so our flat is, well, not the tidiest it's ever been. So I made this list on Monday of things I really wanted to accomplish, and deep-cleaning the toilets was on the list to get done before he came home. Now, I clean the toilets weekly. But this is the tooth-brush-wielding, gloves-and-a-sponge-and-serious-scrubbing kind of cleaning. Not glamorous, but definitely necessary. So why share this information with you? Because I do some of my best thinking when I'm scrubbing stuff. No kidding. And I was thinking about Christmas and Lottie Moon and our life overseas and the pumpkins I have to finish processing today, and it seemed like enough stuff for a blog. So here I am, taking a break, writing this blog. (Too much information? I'm fairly certain this isn't how Dickens or Austen or Bronte were inspired, but since I never claimed to be any of them, I guess it's okay to look into my process--just in case you ever wondered, "What made her think of THAT?" Now you know--toilet scrubbing made me think of that.) 

We can't get pumpkin in a can here. Maybe that's not a big deal for anybody else, but my family is pumpkin crazy, so I had to figure out a long time ago how to make pumpkin stuff from actual pumpkins, instead of just dumping a can of pumpkin into whatever recipe. (I bake them, season them a tiny bit, and process them with a food processor for storage, in case you were wondering.) I did the baking last night, while I was chatting with Marc and Hannah.  So today is the scraping, processing, and baking the seeds part of the process. Not really fun, but not something I mind a lot, if only because I love having it on hand for fall recipes. Plus, it makes the flat smell like Thanksgiving when they are baking. It's actually kind of lovely. And to be honest, it tastes better than the canned stuff. It really does. So it's worth it to me to go to the trouble of doing it for myself. A lot of my overseas life is like that. It's more convenient to have the stuff from America that's already done for me, but the 'real' stuff tastes better and is certainly healthier. I've learned to make a lot of 'real stuff' over the last six years, to the point that it seems normal to me. I don't think about pumpkin processing or making my own maple syrup or any of the other stuff I do here, because it's life as I know it and am used to it. Sometimes, life as we know it is simply a matter of getting used to doing things the hard-but-better way until it becomes normal. Sometimes, life as we know it is falling into old, ugly habits that entangle and bind us and seem too much trouble to get rid of for us to bother. Maybe that's not a problem for you, but for me--I have a whole list of stuff that, given the opportunity, will take hold and feel really comfortable for me, because they are easy. Anger, ugliness, bitterness...left to my own devices, these things are easy for me. Maybe for you it's laziness or complacency or any myriad of other 'deadly sins.' (Aren't they all deadly? For the wages of sin is death...) Or what about this one--getting so caught up in every day life and all its pettiness and struggle and minutiae, and forgetting to be broken for the lost around us. Europe is 99% without Christ. I have good news of great joy--salvation is here. But I live in a lovely city full of beautiful, kind, "good" people (at least for the most part). They do not see the need for their own salvation. And I haven't been everywhere in Europe by a long stretch, but my guess from speaking to colleagues is that they find the same attitude. Jesus? We are past that. That is in our history, not our future. But our neighbors are kind. They do not steal from us. They do not curse us in the street. How easy to become complacent and fail to be broken. My prayers this morning were for Vienna, for Austria, for my neighbors, certainly, but also for my own heart, that it would be broken by the darkness and lostness of this place.

What about you? Where are you broken for? I got tickled this week, because on facebook, some friends of ours from our home church were very excited to get shots. Lest you think them really strange, they were getting shots because they are going to another country on a trip, and they are making sure that they won't have any problems with things they might not be around very often in Middleburg, Florida. Their joy and excitement, even in the face of shots, which nobody likes, was palpable from 3,000 miles away. It made me smile and giggle a little. Because their excitement and joy is not about going to a place, but bringing Jesus to that place. Yes, they will see some neat stuff, for sure. But they bring Jesus. They are the people whose beautiful feet are bringing good news to the nations. And they are joyful at the prospect that God is allowing them to get shots and travel far away and minister to people whose language and culture is very different from their own. I love working with volunteers for that reason. Their energy and excitement and joy is contagious, and it often serves to rejuvenate my jaded heart. My friends and their excitement renewed my spirit. God honestly used their shots to boost my attitude and renew my commitment to what we are here, on this continent, to do. Their feet are beautiful, but their attitude and their hearts are gorgeous, too. 

Our organization talks a lot to churches about praying, giving, and going, about being on mission for Christ around the world. Gone are the days of 'bless the missionaries' kinds of prayers. If you are Southern Baptist, you likely have at least met one of your missionaries, whether someone has visited your church, your kids' camp, or your missions group. You've heard us speak, or one of our colleagues.  You have a face to put with 'missionary'--a real person whose life is invested somewhere that is not their own. Maybe you were moved to put an extra $10 in the offering plate for missions that morning. And whether it's $10 or $1,000, know that we are unbelievably grateful. We really are. But can I suggest something outrageous to you as we approach Lottie Moon Christmas Offering season? Pray about what you're supposed to give. Pray with an eye to the darkness of the world. Pray with the joyous attitude and beautiful feet of our friends from home. Pray knowing that every penny of the LMCO goes overseas and supports us and our friends and colleagues around the world. Pray and give out of a heart overflowing with the incredible blessings that God has poured out on you and broken for those who've never heard His name. Pray and give out of your own love--not for us, or even for the nations, but for the Savior whose birth we are about to celebrate. Pray and give with an attitude of joyful thanksgiving, because God saved a wretch like you. Pray and give so generously that even you are surprised by it. 

Well, friends, those pumpkins are not going to process themselves, and there is still a toilet to go. I know, I know... you're blinded by the glamor of my life. :) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you have beautiful feet and are sharing the good news wherever you are, and that your husband is coming home tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Girls and Boys

Me and the Han

The big guy

Sarah Beth and her DJ

The LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him." Genesis 2:18

Just so you know, I wrote about this yesterday. I approached it from a different angle, but I wrote about this yesterday. But then, just as the yoga lady on my Wii Fit Plus was saying my legs were a little shaky (really? I didn't notice as I clunked over like a sack of taters), I just felt...uneasy. I had tried to be funny and playful, and instead...I felt uncomfortable. Not with the writing--I am a ferocious self-editor, so I wouldn't put something up in public that wasn't at least decently written. No, that wasn't what was bothering me. It was the tone. I'd missed playful and funny and taken the road to Snarkville. I came off as sarcastic and a little mean, especially to boys. And let's be clear--I love the boys in my life. My daughter just married a great boy. My other daughter will likely some day marry a boy. And I am, of course, raising a boy and married to another one. Not to mention my biological nephews and my overseas nephews and all those boys at church who I've watched grow up over the years. I like and love all those boys. And I didn't sound like it. I sounded...demeaning. And since one of my pet peeves of the moment is this tendency to elevate all females above all males, to portray men in sitcoms as complete idiots who would get nowhere without their women...I just felt uncomfortable. So I left the somewhat angry yoga instructor on the Wii, hightailed it to my computer, and I deleted the post. It was what I wanted to say, but not how I wanted to say it.

We're in a fun stage of life. Okay, I'm married to Marc, and it's mostly been fun, but this is a really cool, fun stage of life. Sarah Beth is married and headed into her future, and that's so fun and exciting and rewarding for us as parents. Hannah is at BFA, and she is starting to think about the future--where she will go to college, what she will do with her life, and maybe with whom she will spend her future. And John, well, John has definitely discovered that girls do not have cooties. :) As soon as he runs into the house every afternoon, he races to his room to see if he can talk to someone special a few time zones in front of us. And all of this is fun and exciting. It really is. I am not the parent who hopes my children will stay single and live with me the rest of their lives. I thought Sarah Beth getting married might be a little bittersweet, but it really wasn't. It was just sweet. You know why? Because I have prayed for those people my kids will someday marry since my children were babies. You see, I have been so amazed and surprised by my marriage. I never really thought I'd get married. And then Marc Hooks entered my world, and suddenly, a life filled with cats and books didn't look as appetizing. He is--do you get tired of me saying it?--God's greatest gift to me, outside of my salvation in Jesus Christ. He makes me better, he makes me more fun, he makes my life an adventure. Above all, he continually leads our family to follow hard after Jesus, to pursue the God who never stops pursuing us. I want that for my children, because I know the amazing addition that kind of marriage is to our lives. If marriage is what God has for my kids, then I pray that they will have a marriage that encourages them to be more Christlike, to be more about other people, to be more in love with Jesus every day.

So here is what I'm praying for my children, for my nieces and nephews, both biological and spiritual, for those amazing kids whose lives I get to be a part of on a daily basis:

• Someone who loves Jesus more than you. Marc Hooks loves me better than life, but he does not love me more than he loves Jesus. And maybe that doesn't match up with what the world tells you 'real love' is all about, but the world is messed up, and you shouldn't listen to it. That guy or girl who loves Jesus more than anything is going to love you out of the overflow of that relationship. And I can promise you--you're going to be better loved out of that overflow than anything the world can even begin to imagine.
• Someone who lives life to the fullest, but has an eye on the future. It's okay to love right now. I've loved my life, and every season has something great about it. But that person who always has an eye on the future, on what God is calling you to, on where you might be ten years from now--he or she is less likely to make stupid mistakes in your relationship, mistakes that cannot be undone or taken back. That person is going to value you, your purity--and their own.
• Someone who is working on being the person you would fall in love with. The girl or guy who knows what kind of person they want to marry someday also knows that they need to be the person THAT person would love. Do you want to marry a Godly, spiritually mature person? Then strive to be a Godly, spiritually mature person.
• Someone who will think you are the most wonderful person alive. I am NOT the most wonderful, nor the most beautiful, talented, or smartest person out there. But don't tell Marc, because he's never stopped believing that in 23 years of marriage. He is my biggest cheerleader, and in moments of real self-doubt, it's good to have the person who knows you best like you the most. That person is going to bring you sunflowers just because, cook your favorite dinner as a surprise, and learn to love what you love just to spend time with you.
• Someone who is not afraid to be different from the rest of the world. If you spend your life trying to keep up with the Jones', you're going to have a long and fairly miserable life. But if you share a sense of calling, of God having a true purpose for your life, of what marriage really is and should be...it won't ever matter how much money you make or where you live or what you drive. Walking headlong into God's plan for you might not look 'normal' by the world's standards, but it is the only thing to do by God's standards.
• Someone who will make you laugh. Marriage is not always butterflies and unicorns. Many days, marriage is very hard work. And so, on those days and during those seasons of darkness and difficulty, nothing is better than laughter. It's balm for the wounded soul. Marc makes me 'old geezer laugh,' which is what my kids call it when I laugh so hard that I don't make any sound. You can either cry or laugh during dark days--and it's always better to laugh. 

 Beyond choosing Jesus, there is no more important decision than who you will--or won't--spend your life with. I'm praying for all the kids I love that they will make that decision prayerfully, and that God will bless them with a marriage that enriches their lives in ways they can't imagine. My marriage has done that for me. I could have been a very happy single person. But God knew that my best life was with Marc. And there isn't a day--even the bad days--that I don't thank God for the gift of my marriage and that amazing man I get to call mine. Wherever you are in the world, and whatever your marital status is, I pray that your relationship with Jesus is the most important in your life, and that you are sipping hot Russian tea on a damp, chilly day, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Never say never

This was our last view of Hannah as we prepared to leave BFA: with her friends, making new friends, going together into a new adventure. I'm still at the stage where I cry every time I see this picture, but it is such solace to me. 

Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, and spend a year there and engage in business and make a profit." Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away. Instead, you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we will live and so do this or that." James 4: 13-15

You knew, of course, that I would eventually write about Hannah's leaving. I knew I would, too, but I didn't know exactly what it would look like, what angle I would approach it from, what I would have to say. Hence, I waited until the leaving was done, because the leaving was pretty terrible. Terrible for me--not for her. She struggled to leave us, and especially to leave her brother, but she wasn't really leaving--she was going. Not running from one thing, but to another. And there is a lot of happiness in that, isn't there? And so, now that we are back from Germany, now that she is somewhat settled, now that we have talked to her and know how things are going, now I can write about it. But to be honest, it's a different view than I thought it would be.

Have you ever had to eat your words? I have. Lots of times. When we were engaged, and my sisters' children were five little stairsteps of crazy and chaos, running around like mad people (they all turned out great, but it was really loud there for a while), I can remember saying to Marc, "Our kids won't act like that." Yeah. I was that snotty, superior person--don't those always seem to be people without kids? Of course, I had kids, and they were exactly like that--sweet, wonderful, but also completely nuts. Loud didn't even begin to describe our lives when John entered into the mix. LOUD. CHAOS. Of course, by then my nieces and nephews were teenagers, and they rolled their eyes (probably) and said to themselves, "My kids will never act that way." And my sisters, much to their credit, never said a word, because they are two of the classiest, kindest people on earth. But I had to eat my words.

I also said, "I could never be a missionary." You see how that turned out. I've also had lots of people--even very close friends--who have said, "I could never do what you do." And my response is always the same: if God called you to it, you absolutely could. We aren't the super-saved. We don't especially adore sacrifice. We just heard clear direction from God, and we said, 'yes.' (Okay, at first we said, "What? Have You met us?!?!" But then we said, 'Yes.') And there are a thousand more examples of words I've had to eat--classes I would never teach (but did), situations I would never put myself or my family in (but did), things I would absolutely never do (but absolutely ended up doing).
 And then there came a stage where we decided not to say never, because sometimes that seemed like an invitation to God to have us do exactly that. That's pretty crummy theology, isn't it? First of all, my use of a word or non-use of it doesn't direct the hand of the Almighty. Silliness. And we said it always as a joke, but underneath, I think there was a sense of not wanting to end up doing something we didn't want to do. I feel ridiculous even typing that, because really--our theology is better than that. It's just something that kind of crept into our lives without us paying attention to it.

Then, of course, there is the "I could never send my kid to a boarding school. I simply could not do it. Never." Since I just dropped my kid off at boarding school, you see how that went. Given a set of circumstances in which boarding school was not only clearly the best thing for her, but also clearly God's will for her, this particular 'never' is hard to eat. Not because I didn't want her to go to boarding school, though I honestly didn't. Not because I was embarrassed that we felt it was the right option, because I wasn't. But because of the arrogance that is implied in that 'never' and every other one I've said here. The sentence that starts, "I would never" really ends with "because I know best." And you know what? I so don't know best. I really don't. As if my plan--for my life, for my family, for my kids--is somehow far superior to God's plan for them. Even when that plan involves being in another country from me, even when that plan means being on a different continent than I am, even when that plan involves suffering on their part and mine (because when my kids suffer, I suffer)--His plan is always best. 100% of the time. He never fails. He is forever faithful in His love and mercy and compassion to me and mine and you and yours. I'm learning--even as I cry every time I go into her room--to place myself and my family in the palm of the Almighty. It means relinquishing control. It means admitting I don't know best. It means trusting Him with those most precious to me. It means believing that His lovingkindness endures forever and is unfailing and unwavering. I believe Him to be trustworthy, friends. I've tasted and seen His goodness. I trust Him, even when His plan doesn't look like mine.

It helps, of course, that she's happy. That our conversations are full of new friends and great teachers and funny stuff from the dorm. It helps that so, so many people have sent us messages, encouraging us, loving on us, holding us up. It helps that as we said goodbye, we were absolutely surrounded by people we love, colleagues from our organization, people who wrapped us in their arms, cried with us, checked on us, loved us. And it helps that we know our God loves our Nan far more than we are even capable of, and that we have the privilege of watching Him turn her into the woman He created her to be. And if that is not the most spectacular and wonderful part of parenting, I don't know what is. I love watching my kids grow into who they are made to be. Amazing. Daunting. Inspiring.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that when your plan and God's plan don't match, you always choose God's plan, and that you are going for a walk in your beautiful neighborhood with your beloved this morning, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Miley, Miss Louise, and raising children

Marc taught me to use the scanner. :) Baby Hannah and her big sister, sweet Pocahontas, I mean Sarah Beth.

My three darlings in earlier days.

These two share a close bond that goes beyond age differences or distance. Interesting factoid: SB's nickname for Han is Chebbles...after a city in Czech Republic--Cheb--that they both found hilarious one day on the train. :)

The steps of a man are established by the LORD, and He delights in his way. When he falls, he will not be hurled headlong, because the LORD is the One who holds his hand. Psalm 37:23-24

Do you ever have one of those cups of coffee that are just so good that you drink it to the very last drop, even if it's gone a bit cold? I'm enjoying one of those right now. Strangely enough, it's not Viennese coffee this morning, but Target coffee. Yep, that's right. When we were in the States, I found little sample packages of Target's pumpkin spice coffee for 80 cents a piece, and I bought all of them. Every single one they had. This is the first morning I've splurged and opened one up. Lest you think how sad it is that I have to ration out little sample coffees--we have the best coffee on earth in Vienna. Seriously, we've become coffee snobs, only drinking a particular Viennese coffee and disdaining pretty much anything else. But I love flavored coffees, and Marc does not, so the samples were a little treat for myself. When they're gone, I won't cry, but I will enjoy them while I have them.

I've been thinking a lot about raising children in the last couple of weeks. (Wow...that was an abrupt transition. Sorry if it hurt your neck, but Marc is waiting on me to finish so we can take our walk.) Of course, Sarah Beth is a married woman now, so that's made me nostalgic and sentimental. And we leave Sunday morning to take Hannah to boarding school in Germany, and that's made me, frankly, a weepy mess. John is my height and his dad's shoe size. Where did the time go? Seriously? Wasn't he the little chili pepper just yesterday? So, like every parent during this kind of transition, I've thought a lot about raising them, what I pray for them, what I hope and dream for them. And then, amidst all this introspection, Hannah Montana went crazy. I was asleep when she went crazy, but it was the first thing to greet me when I woke up the next morning. And then, all around me, the internet blew up over the craziness. And, because I'm feeling the bittersweetness of our baby birds flying to different countries, far away from us, I thought about her parents. Particularly, I wondered what it must be like to be criticized for your parenting because your child makes choices you wouldn't want them to make. (I think we can assume it's no parent's dream to watch their child 'twerk' in front of millions of people.) I think it's probably pretty dreadful, frankly. I've had people criticize my children (not nearly as publicly, of course, but in the context of our own situation), both behind my back and to my face, and it's not particularly pleasant. Blow it up on a huge, world-wide scale, make it the lead story on CNN, and I have to assume it's fairly horrifying.

Raising children is such a private thing, isn't it? We never truly know what goes on in someone else's home, and sometimes we make assumptions about private lives that aren't supportable. Don't we all have beloved friends whose children, upon leaving the nest (or maybe while still in it), have gone crazy? Good people, godly people, whose faith is unquestionably strong, but their kids take a turn away from how they were raised. We, as parents, really can only do what we can do while they are ours to raise, and then we have to let them fly on their own--and that means facing consequences for their actions, taking responsibility for their mistakes, learning to make right the hurts they inflict on others. Marc and I are tremendously blessed by children who love Jesus, who do want to make the world better, who have a heart for those oppressed by the evil in the world. And yes, those are all things we have tried to instill in them, both through our words and our lives. There is never a morning that I don't pray for God to draw my children to Himself, to His path for their lives, to His one person for them, to love Him sacrificially and wholly. I don't pray those things for them so that people will think we're good parents. I pray them because I know the deep joy of following hard after Jesus, of loving others out of the overflow of His incredible, awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping love for me. I love them, and so I want them to know Him and to know the joy of serving Him.

I have channeled Miss Louise, my sister's elementary teacher before. (I know she was Kay's teacher--was she Cathy's, too?) She always said, "Take care of yourself, and you have a mighty big job to do." It's become a mantra, of sorts, in our family. Stop thinking about what someone else has done wrong--concentrate on making right the things in your own life that need fixing. The whole leave-the-other-person's-eye speck-alone-and-concentrate-on-that-log-sticking-out-of-your-face thing. As I contemplate Miley's craziness, the public lashing her parents have taken, and raising my own children, I realize that raising my own children is a mighty big job--a full-time responsibility, even at this stage, where they are more independent. I'll pray for the Cyrus's--all of them--because it seems clear that things are not exactly how they need to be. But I think I'd better concentrate on the log sticking out of my face right now. I'm pretty sure that's time better spent than pontificating on what a poor job they've done with Hannah Montana. Because I'm not sitting in their home. I'm not raising her. I don't know--and neither does anyone else.

Well, Marc is starting to get antsy to walk, so off I must go. We are down to the final days with Han before we take her to Germany. There is still lots to do, and some hard goodbyes coming. I'm dreading them. I really am. I hate goodbyes. But I'm joyful at the proposition of what the next two years could hold for her. And I love watching her become her truest self, the person God created her to be. Pray for us, won't you? It's going to be a hard few days. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are loving people where they are and keeping your eye on your own life, and that you have leftover taco soup for lunch today, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Grateful

John and Han with Marc's parents

John and Han with my parents

"These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world." John 16:33

So a long drought, with no posts, then a flood of posts is evidently what is happening here. :) Maybe I just have a bunch to say! Or maybe I have nothing of any value to add to your life, but I feel like rambling. It's summer, and it's really, really hot in Central Europe, so if this is incoherent, forgive me, please.

We had an awesome anniversary yesterday. Nothing particularly big--just time together, exploring our city a bit more, strolling around beautiful Vienna. We were overwhelmed by so many really kind comments on facebook, and they really did add to our celebration. It's hard to imagine that we've been married 23 years and together 25, but that's the case. I don't feel old enough to have been married that long. Of course, I don't really feel old enough to have a married daughter. I guess what matters is how I feel, and not the actual truth of my age. Since I'm staring down a birthday on Sunday, I'm thankful to definitely NOT feel my age.

As we were strolling last night, we got to talking about the differences in what we thought our lives would look like 23 years ago, and what they actually look like. If you'd have told me all those years ago that I would celebrate my 23rd wedding anniversary in Vienna, Austria, I probably would have laughed or imagined that it was some kind of special trip. I certainly could not have envisioned my life as it is. Never. Not in a million years. As we said to the church we skyped with last night--nobody was more shocked than we when God interrupted our very ordinary, normal lives with a plan we could not have dreamed up on our own. But it's a really good life, one I love, one I was made for, that our family was made for. As we were in the States a couple of weeks ago, Hannah and I were riding down the road after church. We got into the habit of stopping at a particular gas station in Middleburg, where I could fill the car for a little less than in Jacksonville, and we could get 69 cent sodas. As we were sipping on the 69 cent goodness, Hannah sighed. "I love this town." That didn't surprise me, of course. We all love Middleburg, are proud to be from 'the Burg,' and enjoy our time there. But then she surprised me by adding, "But it's not where we're supposed to be right now. We belong in Europe. It's fun to visit, but here is not where we're supposed to be." I thought hard about that--and agreed. We do belong in Europe. We aren't Europeans, we're certainly not Austrian, Czech or Russian (the places we've lived), but it is clear to us that Europe is where we belong.

I would love a life that allowed me to be closer to my parents and SB and DJ. I would love a life that was easier for all of us. If you think the separation is easy, you haven't witnessed the goodbyes. They are terrible. We dread them. I cry, my parents cry, my kids cry...I hate the goodbyes with a passion. And the last couple of years have not been a particularly bright, sunshiney season for us. And I dig sunshine. I really do. I'm a beach-goin', sunshine-lovin' Florida girl. But there is comfort and deep, unexplainable joy in really assessing your life, your walk with God, your relationship with others, and finding that the shoes you're wearing, the journey you are on is the perfect one for you. This may not be easy, but it's RIGHT.

People in churches often thank us for our sacrifice. That's so kind. We appreciate that so much. And certainly, we have sacrificed being close to our family in order to live this life. But you know what? It is also a deep privilege to bring the Best News to people who really have not heard it. It is an honor to partner with national believers who are seeking to reach out to their communities with the Gospel. It's sometimes terrifying and way, way outside my comfort zone, for sure, but it's the great joy of my life that God unexpectedly, unpredictably stepped in all those years ago and changed the direction of our lives with one simple command: Follow Me. When we said yes to that command, it involved sacrificing some stuff that we really wanted for ourselves. But what we've gained--as individuals, as a family, as members of the Body of Christ--immeasurably better than the things we wanted. Even in the hot, sweltering Vienna summer, as we sweat and probably don't smell our best, I'm so, so grateful for this life He called us to, He commanded us to, and for the privilege to get to follow wherever He leads.

Well, it's going to be 100F again today, so I think I'd better get done what I'm going to get done while the getting is good and won't make me collapse from a heat stroke. Seriously, Europe--you can't do central heat and air? Really? I know, I know...you're too environmentally conscious for that. And I appreciate that about you as a continent, I really do, but I'm thinking that the noxious smells we are all wafting into the atmosphere certainly have to be having some kind of terrible environmental impact, too. :) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are happy and grateful to be leading your life, and that your weather is a little cooler than ours! Blessings to your and yours!

His,
Kellye