A few of my favorite things

The cross standing at the site of church ruins in Purgg-Trautenfels, Austria

This was the view from our hotel. C'mon. That's just ridiculous.

The beautiful town of Purgg, Austria, which kindly opened its doors to us during its Christmas market on Saturday. This is from the grounds of the Johanneskapelle--John's chapel--famous for its well-preserved 12th century frescoes.

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; from where shall my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth. Psalm 121:1-2

You knew, of course, that eventually there would be a Sound of Music reference, right? Because I LOVE that musical, and here I am in Austria, where it is set. Eventually, I had to do it. It seemed the right time. We went exploring over Thanksgiving the part of Austria in which the story of The Sound of Music takes place, and where, of course, the von Trapp family actually lived. We were outside of Salzburg about 45 minutes, wandering around the Austrian Alps. Not a bad gig, if you can get it.

Thanksgiving was good. It wasn't traditional, by any means, but it was good. With no cooking to worry about, no preparations to make, I actually found time to be very thankful. I teared up only once, and that was when I was wandering around a Christmas market and stumbled upon a booth of quilts and quilted ornaments, which, of course, made me miss my Momma. I bought one. I bet you guessed that. We came away with an incredible appreciation not just for the gorgeous setting of Austria--honestly, it's beautiful beyond my ability to put it into words--but also for the kindness and warmth of Austrians. Now, if Austria is the only place you've ever been, I'm betting they don't seem very warm and welcoming. But to those of us who have lived other places, they seem like they're practically throwing us a parade. There are times and incidents where I have thought, "Wow...that was rude," but generally, taken as a whole, Austrians are pretty wonderful.

It would be hard to pinpoint what my favorite part of the trip was. Of course, I loved the time with my boys, a little foretaste of what's coming in the not-too-distant future, when both Hannah and Sarah Beth are gone, living their own lives, and it'll just be me and the boys at home. John is genuinely interested and curious about the world, and he was fun to take places to explore. He also was flexible and spontaneous, something he definitely gets from his Daddy. :) I loved exploring a glacier with him, riding a cable car up a mountain, visiting a town nestled in the mountains for a Christmas market, visiting a castle...all were wonderful. But if I had to pinpoint my favorite moments of the trip, it would have to be the church.

We were at a castle, walking around, when we saw a small, brown sign. Brown signs in Europe mean really interesting stuff to see and learn about, so we decided to take a look. Over a sketchy-looking bridge and up a one-way road were church ruins from the 1530s. It was an evangelical church, one of the seven in the district, which covered a good section of Austria. The foundation is still standing, and you can see and imagine what was there, where the altar was, etc. But my favorite part was the "Bibel Wanderweg." You can only approach the ruins on foot, and on the path are signs...sort of like the stations of the cross in a Catholic church. They are verses of Scripture meant to make the reader reflect on the journey of faith. And though we certainly don't speak German fluently or even passably, it's amazingly easy to read. With just a rudimentary knowledge, you can definitely make out words and context helps with what you can't figure out on your own. So up we went, reflecting on what we read--all well-known verses. But the station right before we reached the ruins was, to me, one of those moments that I will likely never forget. For there, standing in the unimaginable beauty of the Austrian Alps, surrounded by silence and the memory of other, long-ago worshipers, I read the words that began this blog--I will lift my eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. Yep, standing there, gazing at the mountains, I found some of my favorite words in all the Bible. In a land that is not my own, in a time that I would have given my left arm to be with my whole family, in a place I didn't even plan on visiting, God left for me a little stone of remembrance. It isn't the beauty or the oddity of finding that verse or those ruins that so touched my heart. It was His utter and complete faithfulness to me. The hills were there long before I even knew where Austria was on a map. They will be there long after I am a mere memory. But God, the maker of heaven and earth, is forever. No matter where I am, He is already there. No matter what my situation, He already knows the outcome. There is nowhere I can go that is out of His reach, no matter how remote. Whether I'm in Middleburg, Florida, preparing Thanksgiving dinner for my family or high in the Austrian Alps looking at church ruins, He is my constant companion. This journey, this adventure that we've been allowed to be a part of is sometimes lots of fun and sometimes really awful. But the One who called us to it is always the same--faithful, compassionate, merciful, loving.

It was a good trip. I'm glad we went, and I'm betting we'll return eventually. But it was also good to come home to Vienna, to our cozy apartment, to the neighborhood we love. That, too, is one of my favorite things. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are celebrating all the ways God makes Himself known to you, and that the sun is rising in particularly glorious fashion where you are, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Lessons learned

Hannah--our middle pancake is turning out pretty well. :)

John--his sweetness makes me smile.

"No weapon that is formed against you will prosper; and every tongue that accuses you in judgment you will condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their vindication is from Me," declares the LORD. Isaiah 54:17

I'm missing a picture of Sarah Beth here, because my photos have been wiped clean in a purge of my hard drive, and I don't know where Marc has put them. But imagine a cute picture of her up there, too, with a comment about how proud I am of the person she has become. You get the idea. If you know me at all, and even if you only know me through this blog, you know that I am crazy about my kids. Interestingly, I didn't think I wanted children until I met Marc. I couldn't picture myself as being a loving Mom, sacrificing for my children. It just didn't seem to fit with what I knew about myself. But then I met Marc, fell in love, and realized that my own capacity to love was much, much deeper than I'd imagined. And then Sarah Beth, Han and John showed up on the scene, and my capacity to love them turned out to be unlimited. I like them. I love them. I'm proud of them. I pray for them constantly. They are central to everything about my life. Along with Marc, they are some of God's very best gifts to me--in a life filled with God's good gifts.

I've told the story many times of Hannah's struggles when we moved to Russia. It was a difficult time for all of us, but especially for her. But we learned some things as a family during that time that God is continuing to use in our lives today. For me, it firmed up and clarified exactly what I want my children to take away from their experience overseas, living in a land that is not their own and shining Christ's light in the darkness. As Han has faced a couple of very hard, discouraging weeks, those lessons have proved essential to keeping her as encouraged as possible. I think they are universal lessons from which anyone can benefit, so I thought I'd share them with you.

Lesson one: Trouble will come. If you are human and breathing, you will have trouble. It's what you do with the trouble that shows the world what and who you really are. And if you're a believer, Jesus pretty much promised that you would be hated for His name's sake. But He also told us to take heart, because He has overcome the world. Don't panic when trouble comes. As the last weeks have played out and Han has struggled, I have pictured her burrowing further into the Father's lap, cushioned from the world by the One who loves her best. And that has been a comfort for me, because what I WANT to do is kick some bottoms and take names on her behalf. :)

Lesson two: You cannot control what others do or do not do. This is a hard one for me. I want people to act toward my children how I think they should act. And that isn't just the people who are making life difficult. It's also the people who should (in my opinion) be encouraging her and lifting her up--but aren't. But I have no control over that, and neither does she. What we have control over is pretty limited. We have control over how we act, how we look at things, how we love others. And we have control over whether we choose to believe that Jesus is exactly who He says He is. We've told our kids a thousand times: people will disappoint you. Jesus NEVER will. Trust Him and choose to love others in spite of themselves.

Lesson three: Surround yourself with real friendships. Sarah Beth and I have been talking lately about what real friendship looks like. It always builds up, always loves, is always excited for the good in the other person's life, is always sad for the other person when sadness comes their way. I have been blessed with some incredible friendships in my life, women with whom I have a close bond and to whom I can turn in times of joy or sorrow. Some of them are also living overseas. Some of them are in the States. But they are true friendships that sustain me, gifts from God that I rejoice over. My children have those same relationships. Some here. Some there. But they are a source of great encouragement and worth the investment of time and energy they take to build.

Lesson four: Make much of Jesus. Paul said that he considered momentary troubles nothing in comparison to the joy of knowing Jesus. As we continue as a family to grow in our knowledge of who He is and how He created us to live in Him, it is impossible to do anything but love Him more. Trials will come. People will hate us for His name's sake. Persecution will follow us. But we are never alone. If every friend leaves us, we are not alone. If our enemy seems to win the battle, we are not alone. He is everything. Knowing Him...it's beyond my capacity for words to explain the joy that comes from knowing Him and His mercy and compassion and deep love for us. This incredible adventure we have been called to live is not about us. Not even for a second is it about us. It's about Him. All of it--the joy, the happiness, the fun, the sorrow, the fear, the hurt--it's all about Him and for Him. We want to make much of Jesus.

Well, it seems that no matter how long I sit at my kitchen table, it isn't going to make the sun come out, so I guess it's time to get going. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are rejoicing in your momentary troubles because you know you are never alone, and that you are looking forward to attending a school play tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Holding up our candles

For the beauty of the earth...our new country is incredibly beautiful.

And I set my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and folly; I realized that this is also striving after wind. Ecclesiastes 1:17

It is a dreary, foggy morning in Vienna, Austria, and I am enjoying a cup of tea and peanut butter breakfast bars I made the kids for breakfast. Marc is home, but his day is full of meetings on skype, so I'm trying to be quiet. The great thing about getting up so early is that it is 8:30, and my chores for the day are already done. (It's bathroom and laundry day--it's good to have a schedule.) So I thought I'd sit and write for a few minutes before moving on to the next part of my day.

I am having some problems with shooting pain in my big toe and the bone right under it, so I've been a little less active in the last 24 hours. It didn't keep me from walking yesterday, and it won't today, either, but going up and down the stairs is pretty painful. (This happens about once every six months, and it will go away on its own. No big deal--just painful.) After I finished my walk yesterday, I realized that I wasn't going to get much else done around the apartment (I'd already swept and mopped all my floors and folded and ironed clean laundry), so I decided to read some more of The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom. Hannah is reading it in English, and I like to keep up with what she is reading so that if she has questions, I've read it recently and can be helpful. I also just love to read, so it makes a good excuse. :) So I propped up my throbbing foot, and I read and read. What an amazing story of faith and forgiveness and hands-and-feet Christianity. The ten Booms didn't just talk about being Christians. They lived it. They were it. One of the hardest parts of the book for me is when she asks the pastor to take in a small Jewish baby and he refuses. He is unwilling to put his family in danger for the sake of a baby. Kills me every time.

I'm also reading Ecclesiastes, because Hannah has a paper due on it next week, and I haven't read it in a while. I'd forgotten what a really amazing read it is--the king who asked God for wisdom realizes that wisdom is folly. That everything is 'striving after wind.' As an English teacher, I love the circle imagery, the idea of the wind coming around and around, of there being 'nothing new under the sun.' It always tickles me that people think that quote is from Shakespeare, but it's actually from Solomon. Hannah told me this morning that the book makes her sad for Solomon, who chased after many things--and women--in his lifetime, only to realize that it is in striving after God that true meaning comes to a life. It's really some of the best writing out there--not just in the Bible. It's worth your time if you haven't read it in a while.

Interesting to me how these two things she's reading really mesh with one another. The ten Booms were definitely not striving after wind when they hid so many in their own home and helped countless others find safety elsewhere. Their lives counted for something--even in the loss of their lives. I think Solomon would have thought that they sought after the things that really mattered, even when the world disagreed with them. Their lives shone as a light in the unbelievable darkness of World War II. They still shine in the darkness, many years later.

We've been talking a lot in our family of late about what happens when good rubs up against evil, when the light shines in the darkest of places. Evil does not willingly step aside, does not tip its hat and move out of the way like a gentleman. No. It fights and claws and screams and rages against the light. But here's the thing that we've been stressing with our kids--the darkness never wins. It might look like it does. It might seem like the light loses battles every day. But we know the truth. And if our God is who He says He is--and we have tested and proved Him to be the ultimate promise keeper--then the battle is already won. It's hard to look at things that go on around us and keep that in mind some days, but it's true. The darkness trembles in the face of the Light of the world. And while it may seem to us that we are only holding a tiny candle in the overwhelming sea of darkness around us, when those tiny candles come together, they light the whole world. We have seen and testify to you that Jesus is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. That's good news in a dark world, isn't it?

So we march on, holding our little candles, loving people, loving each other, and ceasing to strive after wind. And we know that the Light of the whole world, who loves everyone, with no exceptions, continues--day by day, minute by minute--to keep our tiny candles lit. I can think of nothing in the world for which I am so thankful in this season of thanksgiving. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are holding your candle aloft in your part of the darkness, and that you have a big bottle of ibuprofen to take care of the pain in your foot, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Wherever you are...

The zipline near our apartment--this represents John's total approach to life: put your head back and just throw yourself full-tilt into everything you do.

Vienna does not lack for beauty. This is an amphitheater on the Danube near our apartment.

Wherever you are--be all there. Jim Elliot

Sooo...if you keep up with us on facebook, you already know this. I'm kind of blue. Not depressed, not paralyzed by sadness...just blue. Hannah calls it mopey, and she's feeling it, too. Some of it has to do with the weather--it's been really gray this week, and it's harder on the soul than you might think if you're living in the Florida sunshine, soaking up all the vitamin D you could possibly want. So that's some of it, for sure. And some of it is the approaching holidays. Hannah will be in London for Thanksgiving on a school trip, and we've decided to take John out of town. I cannot express to you the ways in which I am dreading Thanksgiving and Christmas without Sarah Beth. Just sitting here typing the words is making me weep. Not tear up. Weep. Part of the price of having a family as close to one another as ours is that separation is very difficult. I miss her desperately, miss looking forward to her breaks and her being home. So definitely, the upcoming holidays are bearing down on my soul in a way that is making the blue a little deeper. But I have seen this particular blue before, know its parts, recognize it for what it really is: culture shock.

Culture shock is one of the most dreaded aspects of life overseas. They try really hard to prepare you for it in training, they warn you about it, but until you've experienced it (and in our case, lived through it), there really isn't anything anyone can do for you except help you to know what it is and give you some tools to deal with it. And it probably doesn't look like you might think it would. Hannah and I decided this morning that it's like slogging your way through pudding...and not getting anywhere. It's loneliness and isolation and feeling like you are not up to the task in front of you. It has nothing to do with whether or not you like where you are, by the way. Vienna could not be a more beautiful place. Austrians have been very kind and welcoming to us. This has nothing to do with Vienna. It has to do with us, with our hearts, with where we are. And so, it's time to confess something aloud.

I didn't want to come to Vienna.

It's a beautiful place. Who doesn't know that Austria is gorgeous? But it's not Russia. And I wanted to go home to Moscow. When it changed to Kiev, I was okay with that, too, because I know Kiev, have been there several times, and speak the language. I love Kiev. I get Kiev. So when it became clear to us that we would not be returning to a Russian-speaking place, I was distressed. I masked it okay. I got excited about Austria. I felt my family's happiness about Austria (my extended family), and I got onboard. Yep. Not going back to Russia is probably a blessing. It'll be better and easier for the kids. These are the things we tell ourselves and others as we try to deal with NOT going where we wanted to go. And when we got here, I really tried. It's gorgeous. It's easy to navigate. We love our neighborhood. We love the school. We love our apartment. All of these things are true. None of them are things I made up but didn't mean. But here is how each of these sentences ended in my head: but it's not home. It's not Russia.

Here's the thing: Russia was hard, certainly. In every way, it was difficult. But I figured it out. I know how to be there. I know how to exist there. I know the language--well, at least sort of. I understand the weather. And here's the flip side to that coin: I am known there. Some of the closest people to us in the world are living in Moscow right now. Friendships we hold close and dear. People who are not work, because they know us and love us in spite of ourselves. And here is the moment in which this became crystal clear to me: during a team retreat, as we went over the results of our personality tests and mine came out as administrative--different from everyone else--I remarked, "Is this a shock to anyone?" And you know what? It WAS a shock to everyone except Marc. And in that moment, I knew something that had not really occurred to me: they don't know me at all. That isn't their fault--we haven't really had the chance to know one another. It doesn't mean they won't ever know me. But at this moment in time, I live in a place where the only people who truly know and understand me are living in the apartment with me. And I'm going to be honest--that is about the loneliest feeling I have ever experienced in my life. And so the blues started, and so they have continued. Because even an introvert like me longs to be known and loved. And I am loved. Don't take away from this that I'm not. But I'm not known.

So what do we do about this? Well, we recognize it for what it is. And because we've already experienced this elsewhere, we know that, as Marc reminded us this morning, it ends. This will be a distant memory at some point, one we laugh about and are grateful to be done with as we roll along in the life God has chosen for us. In the meantime, we try to be all here. I cannot get over culture shock if I have one foot in Vienna and one in Moscow. Not possible to do that. So Marc took me out yesterday, exploring the city and talking over what we can do to feel better. Language is a big part of that. We don't have much in terms of funds to take language, but we will have to find a way to study German. And I have to figure out what ministry I am called to here outside of my husband and kids. Perhaps hardest for me--I have to relax. It'll pass. This will be home some day. I will open my mouth and something German will come out, instead of the Gerssian I currently speak. I have to trust that God didn't bring me here to long for someplace else. But while I'm waiting for this to be home, I must firmly plant my feet in this city, with these people, with this school and enjoy the front row seat for the working of the God of the Universe in my life and the life of my family and the life of this beautiful city. I have to bloom where I'm planted, and for this season, I'm planted in Vienna.

I have a fun afternoon planned, so it's off to do laundry and some other writing before it's time for that. We are getting haircuts--praise the LORD!--and then we're taking the kids downtown to the Christmas market outside of the Vienna Rathaus (city hall?) and then to a gourmet meal at McDonald's. Hannah requested some family time to help her slog through the pudding, and Marc and I were more than happy to say yes to that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are being all there, and that you are looking forward to some family time, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Every season

There is no way not to think this is a gorgeous place. This is the church we see on our normal walking route. Ridiculously beautiful.

Sweet John in front of some pretty leaves. Love this boy!

Hannah doing what she does about 99% of the time--smiling. So blessed to be her mom!

Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. I Corinthians 10:31

I have a few quiet moments between mopping my floors and doing more laundry, so I thought I'd get some writing done. This particular blog is in answer to some private questions I've gotten, most of which have been centered around a curiosity about what our life here is really like. So I thought I'd give you a little glimpse of a normal day.

Every day begins for me by 5 a.m. If you've read this for a while or know me at all, you know that sleep is not always my friend, so I try to sleep until 5, but never later. I have to have complete quiet to start my day, and that's impossible with children roaming around. So I'm up by 5, and I have coffee and time for Bible study and prayer, which I finish about 6:25. I get Han up about 6, and my new favorite thing in the morning is that she does her quiet time at the table with me. We're not talking or even watching one another, but as a Momma...it's pretty sweet to have her sit next to me while she studies and prays. Just one more blessing in a life full of blessings. About 6:30, I get Marc up, and I start breakfast. My kids always eat a hot breakfast before school. Usually, we eat some kind of eggs--studies have shown that kids with ADHD benefit from protein in the morning. So we eat breakfast, and then it's all about getting the kids out the door and on their way to school by 7:45. They walk together, and we don't have to take them anymore. Sometimes, I go in the afternoon to get John, but we are starting to let them come home together. It takes them about 25 minutes to get to school via public transportation. That may sound like a lot to you, but it sounds like heaven to us. It took much longer than that in Moscow.

Once they're gone, the day rolls on. There is always cleaning to be done. There are some general rules here (that I've set for myself)--the kitchen must remain clean all the time. In other words, I don't let stuff stack up. My kitchen is small with very limited counter space and a European sink (think about half the size of yours in America), so dishes have to be done if the next meal is going to be prepared. Trash is another thing that has to be taken care of every morning. I also usually sweep the floors every day--that may change, though. We're looking at getting more rugs, and I'll probably buy a vacuum, which will cut down on the sweeping. Or I hope it will. Every day, I have a different thing that I concentrate on. Wednesdays, I always clean the bathrooms. We have two, and if they get too dirty, it doubles my work. Better to give it a good cleaning every week. I mop the floors on Mondays, trying to get rid of the grime from the weekend, and sometimes on Fridays, too. The kids' rooms are generally picked up all the time, and our room, too. I can't live in chaos, and neither can anyone else in the family. And, of course, every day has at least one meal that is homecooked--usually supper. (I don't count breakfast---scrambling some eggs is not exactly a feat.) Generally, Marc and I eat a roll and cheese or something similar for lunch. Not a lot of work in that. And the kids take their lunch to school--often leftovers from supper. But supper takes some preparation and thought, mostly because I have to get the groceries to make it. Sometimes, I don't plan well or I forget how long something takes. For example, I made chicken quesadillas the other night, forgetting that it takes FOREVER--2 1/2 hours later, we finally sat down to eat. YIKES!

So what do I do besides clean? I am caught up right now in trying to get the apartment set up. Everything feels temporary while we wait to buy some more furniture. I have things to attend--team retreat last week, a ladies brunch yesterday morning, coffee with colleagues, events at school. I am taking over the finance reports and other paperwork from Marc, and that is a much bigger job than I planned. And eventually, I will have ministry of my own, though at this point, I have no idea what that's going to look like. I read. I write. I encourage Marc and watch different pieces or talk through things he's working on with him. When my kids get home, I help them with homework and spend time with them, often trying to find some kind of family thing to do at night--family movie night, family game night, etc. With Sarah Beth out of our home, the truth that time flies has been made real, and I am trying to soak up every single second with the kids--because tomorrow, they'll be gone. And this--being Sarah Beth, Hannah, and John's Momma and Marc's wife--this is the stuff that matters, that has eternal significance. This is the stuff I really want to do well. If there are dust bunnies in the corner, that will bother me. But if my children grow up without knowing how important and loved they are...then I will have failed. And I'm not interested in failing at anything.

If you know me in my other life, I bet this life surprises you. You've always known me as the girl who gets up at 4:30, goes to work, teaches all day and loves it. How is it possible to be so happy and content in this life that is so different from that one, in which I was also quite happy and content? As I grow older, I realize that life is made up of so many seasons. I was a young wife, then a young wife and mother, a young teacher, a more experienced teacher, and now I'm in this phase--living overseas, being a housewife, loving and taking care of my family, but definitely in a more behind-the-scenes role than I've had in the past. But in each of these seasons, I have been overwhelmed by the blessings of the season. What is better than young, snuggly children? What is better than being a newlywed? Well, at this stage of my life, having a close relationship with my adult child and with my teen and preteen is pretty wonderful. Having a mature, comfortable relationship with the person I love most in the world, experiencing this incredible adventure with him as our love just gets deeper and deeper...pretty great. When I sit and really ponder my life, really think about the different things I've been allowed to do, I am humbled and grateful. What a blessing to have been allowed into the lives of thousands of teenagers, people I have loved and continue to love and pray for. And what a blessing to be living in this beautiful country, encouraging and supporting the incredible people God has entrusted to me. Blessings all mine, my friends. Our God is so good.

Well, the washing machine has stopped, which means it's time to hang the laundry. Wherever you are in the world, I challenge you to look over the course of your life and see the joy you've been so graciously given, and I hope that the new recipe you're trying tonight goes well, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye