Praise to the LORD, the Almighty...

I just wanted to show you some before and after pics of my recent kitchen reorg. This is before. If you know me, can you imagine me living in this universe???

After: Thank goodness for IKEA bins. I have them EVERYWHERE.

Praise to the LORD, the Almighty, the King of creation. O my soul praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation. All ye who hear, now to His temple draw near. Gladly forever adore Him.

It's a gray morning in Vienna, Austria, but there are smiles in the Hooks household, because Marc is on his way home to us. I do not hate it when he goes, because he truly adores his work more than you can imagine, but I love it when he comes home. Some day, when we are empty nesters, I will go with him, and that will be a glorious day. But for now, I'm enjoying not being an empty nester and watching him settle into the shoes God created just for his feet.

If you've been married a long time (we'll celebrate 21 years this summer), you know (I pray!) the joy of the happiness of your spouse. You probably also know the great burden of watching your spouse struggle. In our 21 married years, I've watched both. And I'm thankful for the struggling times, because they make this moment in time so sweet for us. For years, I knew Marc was talented and gifted, that he loved people, that he loved God, but he never seemed to find the perfect fit for him. This life, his work, his travel, his love for Europe and Europeans, his commitment to the gospel...this is the life he was made for. It is the perfect fit. I would not give up his happiness in his work for any white picket fence in America. I really wouldn't. It is an immense joy and privilege and blessing to watch as he settles into the perfect life for which God created him. It really is. But I'm glad he's coming home. :)

I've been thinking lately so much about the great blessings that God has given us. Of course, our family is close--our children (though they fight like any other siblings) deeply love one another. They communicate with one another across continents, giving advice, sometimes arguing, telling each other little secrets. That is a joy beyond words for me. I have a tremendous marriage. He is my very, very favorite person in the world, my best friend, my closest ally, my biggest cheerleader. Our relationship with my parents and sisters...beyond words. I cannot imagine more supportive parents than both mine and Marc's. Never a hint that we should come home. Never a complaint that they don't see us every day. I try to never take for granted their sacrifice.

At home in Florida, we have a great church that loves us. Sweet cards, precious messages, encouragement beyond words, faithful prayer warriors...all reside at First Baptist Middleburg. We have partner churches across the U.S. who love us and care for us and encourage us. Here in Vienna, we attend a church that we are growing so fond of, too, grateful for the voices of so many nations raised in worship of our great God. We have a great school, where our children are making relationships and receiving a very good education. I'm so impressed by the Bible study and worship materials Hannah is working her way through in preparation for leaving for Bosnia next week. Oh, my goodness...real thought, real study went into making a challenging, stretching Bible study for the kids. She came home yesterday from training time for the team with an absolute glow about her--so happy with the team, with the work they are preparing for, with the incredible adults who are making the trip, too. What a blessing to have adults who so deeply invest in my kids.

We have a wonderful apartment in a great neighborhood in Vienna. Little by little, we are making relationships here. Little by little, we are learning the myriad little secrets our city holds--here in the center of European culture for so many years. Beautiful cathedrals, lovely streets, so many things to learn as we work to understand this place and these people. We have beloved colleagues all over the world. We love our work. We love the people with whom we work. There is a Starbucks at our mall. (Though I'm learning to love Viennese coffee and cafes far more than anything Starbucks has ever brewed.) There is a grocery store across the street! Blessings, blessings, blessings...

On a deeper level than any convenience Vienna could offer, this place that we did not necessarily want to come to is teaching us about being where you are. It's teaching us about loving and being broken for those God puts in front of you, regardless of the language they speak. It's convicting us about boldness and courage and dreaming bigger than is reasonable for a city, for a people. I'm reading the gospels, studying the words and actions of my Jesus closely, and one phrase keeps tearing at me: "And Jesus was moved by compassion for the people..." So many times, I'm not moved by compassion. He wept over Jerusalem. I walk the same path in my neighborhood every single day. When was the last time I was so moved by compassion for the lostness of my neighbors that I wept? Vienna is teaching me about compassion, about loving people, about being broken. Those are priceless, precious gifts, incredible blessings that I would not trade for being where I would have chosen.

On this cloudy, gray Vienna morning, I'm feeling grateful for a place where I'm being asked to stretch and grow and be content. And what I'm finding is that a true choice to be grateful makes little problems, small tensions, and even big issues fade in their importance. And I'm grateful for that, too. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are grateful for the big and little blessings of your life, and that your apartment is starting to smell like Cracker Barrel hashbrown casserole, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Some days...

I like this one--Han with curly hair. And thanks, sissy, for the Christmas present--she loves her JBU sweatshirt!

King Boris. He thinks he runs the place. :)

I'll give You everything I have, because I was undeserving, and You chose me. --Your Favor by Elevation Worship

So, let's be clear. It was all good until I went out to exercise. You see, I've been stuck in the apartment since Sunday with something that looked suspiciously like the flu (YUCK!), and today was going to be my day to get out and about. And what better way to do that than to exercise and walk around the neighborhood? So I was all good until that decision.

For a while, everything went well. I was listening to music, walking along, smiling at the dogwalkers, saying an occasional hello to folks I always see when I walk. And then, out of nowhere, I found myself with tears running down my face. DO YOU KNOW HOW NUTS THAT MAKES ME LOOK?!?!?!?! Completely nuts. So what happened? Well...it was (as it often is) a song that did me in. It was the song I quoted above, the song that Hannah sang at Marc's ordination at our church right before we came back to Europe. It was that song, you see. And it's not just the song, though it's gorgeous, and I love the sentiment--Your favor follows me. Your kindness leads me to a hope I cannot see. C'mon. Nothing wrong with that. It's all good stuff, right? But in my mind's eye, I could hear Hannah singing it. I could picture my parents as they sat there listening. I could see Sarah Beth crying as she listened to her sister, the baby she wanted to be a 'bruvver,' but who has grown up to be her friend. I didn't see it that night, the crying. People told me later. They said, "I was okay until I looked over and saw Sarah Beth sobbing over her sister. It was too much for me." And in my mind, I could clearly see that. Sarah Beth crying, heartbroken over the loss of her sister to a life that inevitably takes us away. And it was too much for me. So there I was, crying as I walked the streets of my neighborhood.

You know what we tell people? The people in churches who always say, "Thank you for your sacrifice"? We almost always tell them it's not a sacrifice. Or maybe we say that it doesn't seem like a sacrifice, this life that we--honestly--love and are so clearly called to. Don't read anything I'm about to say and take away the idea that we aren't called or that we're doubting that call. That's not it at all. But I'm going to be transparent and clear and--gasp!--vulnerable for a second. It's a sacrifice. Right now, this moment in time, this place in my life...it is a sacrifice. It is MUCH harder this time. No doubt about it. Leaving Sarah Beth on one continent while we are on another...it's awful. She is sick with some kind of bug right now. She wants her Momma. I hate it. I hate being away from her. I miss my parents terribly. Every single day. I miss my sisters. I miss my life. But most of all, I miss my baby. It makes my heart ache. And it makes me cry on the streets of the city I'm called to love.

And this can take an ugly turn, if I let it. It can go from "I'm homesick," to "So-and-so never calls. They don't even think about us," in about two seconds flat. And that turns into, "It must be nice to get to live down the street from your kid/parents/church. Wish God let ME do that." Oh, and THAT is dangerous territory, isn't it? To be flippant and ugly to the God of the Universe is no little thing. To doubt that what He has for us--even in the desperate missing of our girl, even in her loneliness for us--it is as close to blasphemy as I can imagine. Do you know the blessings of my life? Do you know the absolute shower of goodness He rains on me daily? He meets me at ridiculous times of the morning EVERY DAY to sit and have a cup of coffee. He listens to me. He gave me Marc and Sarah Beth and Hannah and John John. He gave me Ken and Betty and Kay and Cathy and all the names that go with those names...a close family...not distant relations...not call on holidays kind of family. I have REAL family. Blessings all mine. All mine. All bestowed from the giver of all good gifts. Who am I to question? Who am I to resent?Who, exactly, do I think I am in the face of who He absolutely is?

It doesn't surprise God that I'm homesick. It doesn't shock Him that I miss my girl or that Han and John miss their sister terribly. Nope. One of my favorite songs says it perfectly--all this was just part of Your glorious design. How can I, in the face of His incredible plan for my life, say anything but, "Hallelujah. Amen." I will not walk down the road of bitterness and comparison. I will choose to be grateful for the thousand blessings that are undeservedly mine. And I'll hope that my neighbors don't think I'm completely nuts. :) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know that He is still God, even when you're sick and want your Momma, and that you are making dinner for a much beloved friend, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

What I've learned...and what I'm learning

Hannah working at the U.N. Bazaar in December. I'm not sure what the face is about.

Hannah and her friends working the White Elephant Sale at the Bazaar.

The sign outside the entrance. The bazaar benefits women's and children's charities the U.N. supports around the world.

So we will be brought one by one to the testing place, and we may never know when we are there. At that testing place there will be no dozen possible choices for us; just one and an alternative, but our whole future will be conditioned by the choice we make. --A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God

I'm going to be honest--I'm on cup of coffee number 3, and I'm enjoying sitting on my living room couch (in Marc's spot, which is akin to Sheldon's in Big Bang Theory), sipping my coffee and having some quiet. I've gotten the kids out the door to school successfully, and (unfortunately) Marc is asleep after a terrible night of feeling really sick. I medicated him about 4a.m., and he finally went to sleep. Poor guy. But the apartment is quiet (even the kids next door just left for school), and I have a few minutes to think and write before I tackle the unenviable job of reorganizing my kitchen.

You might be thinking to yourself, "Golly, Kellye. You just moved there in October and you're already reorganizing?" Well, you make a fair point there. However, because we got here in October and the kids went immediately to school, I pretty much just threw my kitchen stuff wherever it would fit. I didn't really have much of a plan, especially about food storage. So, before I start language school on February sixth and become totally nuts trying to learn German, I thought it important to impose some kind of systemic change on the kitchen. Because guys...it's a mess. Not dirty. Just completely disorganized. I can't stand it. So we went yesterday and bought shelves at IKEA for the sunroom, and I think I'm going to store those things I don't use very often (esp. appliances) there in order to free up some room. Pray for me. It's a big, big job.

But that's not really what I wanted to write about. I was going to John's doctor last night to pick up a prescription, and it was the first time I'd gone on foot, giving me lots of time to think. (Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes...well, you know.) I was making the change from one line of the Ubahn to another, and I had never done that particular change before. But it didn't phase me a bit to do something new, go someplace I'd never gone, and it really made me start thinking about all the things I've learned living in Europe. I thought that might be an interesting thing to share with you, so here goes. Some, by the way, are not very deep. I didn't want you to be surprised. :)

--How to navigate any place. Even if I don't read/speak/understand the language, I can pretty much follow/figure out any sign there is. I actually realized this when I was in London, got us lost, and then figured out how to get back to where we wanted to be. Best of all, my kids have learned this lesson. I have to believe that will be a benefit to them in whatever life they choose.

--The joys of IKEA. I'd never been to an IKEA in my life until I moved to Europe. Everything in one place at decent prices is just more happiness that I can explain. Plus, you have to love any place on earth you can still get a hot dog and drink for less than $2.

--The fun of new foods. Every place we've lived has had something new that our family has really liked and added to the lineup of tacos and spaghetti that tend to populate our dinner menus. (Less spaghetti now that we work at eating lower carbs) In Russia, we learned to love the blini. In Czech Republic, it was fried cheese. (No, it's not like mozzarella sticks. It's WAY better.) In Austria, it's schnitzel. There is a lot of fun to be had just trying new stuff. Plus, it often gives us some of the best stories. (Remember the time Dad ate reindeer tongue pizza? YUCK!)

--Humility. Feel really good about how smart you are? Move somewhere you don't speak the language. Try to communicate. Then try to learn the language. See how that feeling smart thing works out for you.

--Gratefulness for the small stuff. Our lives are populated every day by small blessings. My favorite creamer from America. Flannel sheets my parents sent. Bath and Body Works lotions and spray. Cushy socks my friend sent. Little notes and cards from kids at church. A kind email. Someone just remembering we're here and checking on us. In a life that is sometimes overwhelmingly stressful, it's very often the little blessings that keep us from the tipping point where we just can't take it anymore.

--Letting go. Urgh. As Sarah Beth would say, "I'm working on it." This is a toughy for me, especially when something has been done to someone I love. It's hard, isn't it? But holding on to hurts is an insidious tool of the enemy. It's not big. It's not showy. It's the inner working of the heart, so who can know? But I know that holding on to things is a path to bitterness and ugliness that, frankly, ruins lives and careers. I'm not interested in it. But it's definitely an in-process thing for me.

--Being where we are. I've talked about missing Russia, and I do miss Russia. I miss Russia and Russians and my American friends in Russia. And there is nothing inherently wrong with that. But I'm here. In Austria. Not in Russia. And if I let my fond feelings for my time in Russia keep me from planting roots here, from learning this language, from understanding and embracing this culture, or from loving these people, then I've taken a drastic step in the wrong direction in terms of God's plan for my life. Because I'm here. So we can still be the 'Russia guys,' but we better work hard to also be the 'Austria guys.'

--Relying only on Him. Tozer talks about the spiritual disease of self-confidence. My self-confidence was stripped away in Russia. Smile. Sometimes a terrible road leads you somewhere beautiful. It's not that I feel terrible about myself, or think I'm incapable of making my own way. But I've tasted and seen what complete reliance on a loving, compassionate Father can bring, and it beats relying on myself any day of the week. So I plan and I work the plan (my family will smile when they read that, because I ALWAYS say that when we go somewhere), but when it doesn't work out, I know He has it. Because He always has it. Sometimes I forget. But I always come back to it eventually--without Him, my life is a mess. With Him, my life is the most amazing adventure. I'll choose the adventure. :)

Well, I hear stirring. I'm hoping that means he's miraculously healed. Or at least that he can move without hurting. Wherever you are in the world, I challenge you to think through what you've learned and what you're learning, and that your kitchen doesn't need reorganizing. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

All about Him

One of the great joys of my life is the deep friendship between Marc and my Daddy.

The four of us at my Aunt Angie and Uncle Raleigh's house in Clarksville, Tennessee--will I ever get used to "the four of us" instead of "the five of us"? About the time I do, it will be "the three of us."

Since I write constantly about them, I thought it might be nice for you to see my sisters and parents. This is the five of us at my aunt and uncle's house in Tennessee. My sister, Cathy, is on the left, and Kay is in the middle.

It's all about You, Jesus. And all this is for You, for Your glory and Your fame. --Jesus, Lover of my Soul

Well, it's the new year, and I'm ready to get back into a regular routine. Our kids don't go back to school until the 9th, and I think they are ready for normal, too. It's been a good break, we've had fun with each other and with friends, but now it's kind of enough. Know what I mean? But the turn of the new year is always a time for contemplation and reflection--not resolutions, necessarily, because I don't think that generally works to make a change--and I thought I'd share some of the things I'm working on in 2012.

--Scripture memorization--I have done some memorization in the past, but not enough. The more I know God's Word, the more I understand and can utilize it's real, legitimate power over the darkness that can sometimes seem overwhelming. If I'm going to claim every thought for Christ, I need something else to put in its place to roam around my brain--and Scripture seems like a good choice.

--Positive instead of negative--I've spent too much time recently on what is difficult and hard. It's okay to think through and pray through those things, but concentrating on them alone is a recipe for discontent. And by the way--I live in the world's best city to live in, according to recent news articles and surveys--so what am I complaining about? :) Seriously, there's a lot of good here, and definitely ministry to be done. Looking at the good, not the bad, cannot hurt anything or anybody.

--Concentrating on home--It is weird for me to introduce myself as a "hausfrau," but it's what I am. I'm a housewife. And while there is definitely lots of ministry to be done outside my home, my first priority has to be the ministry inside my home. Keeping our home running smoothly is a full-time job. Taking care of Marc so that he can do the things he's here to do--beyond a full-time job. And you know what? I'm finding that there is a great deal of joy and fun to be had in this ministry to those with whom God has entrusted me.

--Reflection and quiet in my quiet time--I'm such a checklist girl. It's so easy to study my Bible and pray because it's what I'm supposed to do. You know what I mean--feeling that you've done your duty because you have spent 15 minutes telling God what you need. (Okay, I spend more than 15 minutes, but that doesn't make a checklist mentality any better!!) I have been really convicted recently that my quiet time isn't always very quiet. In other words, I do most of the talking and almost none of the listening. God isn't my therapist. It's not about me. It's about Him. I need to close my mouth and listen. I am convicted of my immense need for more of God, not to know more about Him.

--A broken heart--It's not about a place. It's not even about being called to love a specific people. It's about a broken heart for those who don't know Him. If I am honest, it's easy to be drawn in by the polite nature of Austrians and forget that they are lost. Lord, help me see the world as You see it, with Your heart. If that is my prayer, I cannot help but weep for the lost of this beautiful city--no matter which beautiful city I happen to be in at the moment.

--Boldness--I cannot be satisfied with only an incarnational witness. It can't just be me living here, making relationships, and never bringing up spiritual things. It is easy to be quiet about Jesus in order not to offend. But you know what? He's offensive to everything this world is about. It's not enough to just live a good life. Lots of people who are going to hell are living good lives by the standard of this world. It's not enough. Lord, Lord...let my words in front of You be few, but let my words about You be many.

There are more things on my list, but they are too personal to share in a public format. It's enough, I think, to say this: I want 2012 to be a year in which I make much of Jesus. I want to make Him the focus, the center. If I do, I know that everything else in my life will hold together. Because, you see, it really is all about Him. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your 2012 is going to be all about Him, and that you are looking forward to a day of getting things done, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

There is definitely a theme here

Our Christmas Day skype with my parents...love them! How did people live overseas before skype?!?!?!

Watching Sarah Beth open her present from us.

Skyping with my sisters...so precious to me!

Christmas Eve at Schloss Schonbrunn--a new tradition!

Wherever you are--be all there. Jim Elliot

This is, believe it or not, my 300th post on this blog. Amazing! I still can't get over the fact that anyone reads this, but I sure enjoy writing it. It's fun to look back over time and see where I've been and how I got to where I am right now. As I read over some old blogs from the last 4 1/2 years, I realize that I have lived in four countries during that time--Russia, Czech Republic, the U.S., and Austria. You have to give me this--my life isn't boring. :) It also occurs to me that as I look back over the last 299 blogs, a theme appears, a definite motif that traces through the ups and downs of this life I've been called to live. In all of these posts, in some way or another, I come back to God's absolute faithfulness time and time again. In the darkness of Russia, the limbo of the Czech Republic, the waiting of the U.S., and the transition into Austria, God has--again and again and again--proven Himself faithful, faithful, faithful.

I'm not going to lie--Austria has been a much more difficult transition than we had anticipated. It's easy to think that after you've done something once, it doesn't matter where you do it again...sort of like riding a bicycle. Once you know how to do it, you know how to do it. That hasn't proven true here. Adjusting and acclimating to Russia is very different from adjusting and acclimating to Austria. The people are different, the climate is different, the laws are different, and, of course, the language is different. What we have now that we didn't have when we went to Russia is perspective. We've been through this before. And because God was so faithful in Russia, in Czech Republic, in the U.S., we have every reason to believe that He will continue to be faithful here. So we walk on, we live our life, we try to learn the customs, the laws, the language, we try to develop relationships and ministry, and we know that we are not alone. We are exactly where we are supposed to be at this moment, and that makes life joyful even in the awkward moments of transition that are inevitable.

One thing that has helped me during this time is to be thankful and grateful for the things that are going well or are going right, and not just thankful, but vocal about my thankfulness to God. Instead of saying, "Thank you, Lord, for the many blessings of this life," I make a list. When I'm feeling particularly blue, I make a really detailed list. Because here's the deal: when I sit down to be really thankful, the blessings are overwhelming. I feel piddly and small for being ungrateful EVER, because my life is so full of God's very best. Maybe it's not the place I would have chosen, but God's idea of what my life should look like far surpasses anything my brain could come up with, even in a dream. Making copies for our visa applications yesterday, I realized that my 10-year-old has been to more countries than most adults will ever see. When Hannah goes to Bosnia in February, it will be her 13th country to visit. What?!?!?! But even better than that, our family has the chance to see God at work, up close and personal, to be fully dependent on Him, to taste and see that He is good. Those are not just words in a book, however holy it may be. Those are truths that we have tested and know to be absolute.

So what am I particularly thankful for on this last day of 2011, this 300th post? Of course, I'm thankful for my family, for our closeness, for our health and general happiness. I'm thankful for my close relationship with my sisters and parents, for the way they have invested in this life I've been called to. I'm thankful for friends in the States who constantly encourage me and love me, but who let me love and encourage them, too. I'm grateful for growing relationships here, both with colleagues and with those outside our organization. I'm thankful for the sweet fellowship of our church here, for the many nations represented each Sunday as we worship together. I'm thankful that we will start language lessons soon, and that I will be able to speak and be understood more than I am able to do right now. I'm grateful for our new kittens, for the way they have added to the fun of our lives here. I'm thankful for our colleagues in Russia, who we consider family and who have always treated us as "theirs," no matter where we live. And I'm thankful for this time of transition, this hard season, where God is teaching us new things, sloughing off more and more of the old man in each of us, growing something new and beautiful out of these jars of clay. I'll never get over it--He called us to this. Us. Knowing us, He called us, anyway. I'll never understand it, but I'm forever grateful.

It's time for me to start cooking. We have friends coming over tonight for New Year's Eve, and some colleagues from Hungary are coming to spend the night, too. There are pizzas and cheeseball to be made. :) Then tomorrow night, we get to hang out all night with colleagues in an effort to obtain our visas. It will be cold, but it will probably be fun. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are singing the songs of His ultimate, continuing, dependable faithfulness, and that your kittens are making you laugh as they chase stuff around, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The temper tantrum

John John and Bart Simpson, hanging out in a glacier. No big deal. :)

Our new home is absolutely breathtaking.

Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10

I am tougher than you may think.

The voice, the eyes, the...pleasant plumpness, the accent (deeper at some times than others)...they all make me appear to be a blonde marshmallow, a pushover, someone who is easily moved and manipulated. In reality, though, I can be pretty fierce. (Out there in the land of those I've taught, people are giggling, because they think fierce is...maybe a little understated.) Especially when it comes to my family, I am aptly named. (My name is Celtic, and it means warrior.) Do not mess with my family, or the wrath of Kellye will emerge. And it's not pretty, friends. I am a tigress in defense of my family. Like all parents, I want my children protected from harm, from those who would taunt and ridicule, from those who wish them ill for no good reason. It is in a parent's nature, I think, to stand straight in front of their children to protect them from evil. Isn't that why it's such an aberration when a parent harms a child? Isn't that why abuse of any kind shocks us, horrifies us? Because that is not the nature of parenthood. Parenthood loves and protects. It's how we are wired by our Creator.

So here is the question I have run smack up against in the last couple of weeks/months: when do I step aside and allow my children to learn the hard lessons? When is my protection, my stepping in and fixing things not part of what God has for them? And how is it possible to sit aside and watch my children struggle and suffer, taking comfort in the knowledge that the God who loves them even more than I do is the One in charge?

I'm going to be honest and tell you that I have no solid answers to these questions. In fact, on Tuesday, while I was walking in the morning, I had a complete and total meltdown next to the Danube river. Yep. Threw a temper tantrum at my Maker, right there in front of Him and everybody else. I did everything but jump up and down and stamp my feet. I was MAD. Mad because every time Marc leaves the country, every single thing goes wrong. Mad because he's in Tasmania and doesn't have internet access, so I have to handle everything without any help from him. Mad because Sarah Beth is a continent away. Mad because Hannah and John are dealing with bullies. Mad because other people get to live around the corner from their parents and I don't. Mad because other people's kids get to see their grandparents all the time, and mine don't. Mad because other people get to see their sisters, and I don't. Mad because my life seemed, at that moment, SO HARD. Why am I here, where I can't speak the language? Why can't I just live a normal life? (He must have laughed at that one. What is a normal life, anyway?) MAD, MAD, MAD!!! (Seriously, I was pretty upset.)

And you know what the kicker was for me? Hannah's light bulbs in her room went out, and I couldn't figure out how to get up there and fix it. I'd tried, but I just couldn't reach it. That was what pushed me over the edge. Light bulbs. I am not proud of that, my friends. I really am not. But I think if we're all a little more honest than is comfortable, it's almost always something small that is the backbreaker in our lives. It's rarely the big stuff that gets us. For me, it's allowing stuff to accumulate, to build and build in my heart (while, by the way, I tell everyone who asks that 'I'm doing fine') that makes me blow a gasket. And that's what I did on Tuesday. It wasn't really about light bulbs, of course. It was about my kids struggling and suffering. I don't like it. I don't want it. Don't mess with my kids, Lord. Haven't they given up enough? Hasn't Hannah spent enough of her life overseas and unhappy? C'mon, God! Cut them (and me) a break!

I'm going to be honest--I heard no voice from heaven telling me to be still and know Him. No touch comforted my soul. Nope. He just let me throw my temper tantrum, let me get it out of my system and go on with life. I went out that night with ladies from our organization here in Vienna, and it was a time of hooting laughter and comfort and encouragement. That helped. Things didn't look so dark, suddenly. There is something about people who know what this life is, who have experienced or are experiencing many of the same things...it's very comforting. And to share those things with people who love Jesus like you do, who share that foundation of complete commitment...it turns out that iron really does sharpen iron. Reminded by them of real truth, my prayer over Hannah that night was a sobbing cry to the God of both our hearts, praising Him that while we do not understand all that has happened here, and we don't know what He's up to or what He's doing in all of it, we do know Him. He is good. He loves us beyond measure. We have not just read about Him on Sundays. We have not just listened to sermons about Him. We know Him intimately. He is the lover of our souls. He holds us in his righteous right hand, never ever to let us go. And so the things that trouble us might not be better--stuff still goes wrong, has to be handled, people are still mean and vicious, we still miss Sarah Beth, we want Marc to come home--but we rest and are strengthened by the knowledge that the God who loves us brought us here, called us to this life, and walks the path with us day-by-day, minute-by-minute, second-by-second. We are never alone. Amen and amen.

The light bulbs got fixed, by the way. It had not occurred to me to ask for help. That's another topic for another blog--my inability to ask for help. I have two friends within a 30 second walk from my front door, and I had not considered the idea that maybe, just maybe, someone tall (really, really tall, by the way) might be willing to come in and help. Urgh. I frustrate myself, sometimes. Okay. All the time. But she has light in her room, and she can play her guitar in there, which was her main concern. And Wednesday was a little bit better than Tuesday. That helped. :) But I'm realizing as I continue to grow into this life, into this love affair with my Savior, that His love for me and for my family (and for you) is far beyond what I can comprehend. It might not always look like I want it to--comfortable and easy, like a great recliner. In fact, it almost never looks like that. But I would not trade it for a comfortable life around the corner from my parents and Sarah Beth and my sisters, a life full of cake mixes and easy food preparation, a life of speaking English all the time. His love for us, his plan for our lives...better than anything I can imagine. So I walk on, apologize for the temper tantrum, ask Him to help me with my unbelief and my lack of faith, and believe. In Him. In His love for me. In His love for my children.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your life is wrapped up in the Lord who loves you and created you and not in being comfortable, and that you are visiting a snowglobe museum later today, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The love story

The love of my life.

As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. Proverbs 27:17

One of my favorite moments while we were in the States happened in our Family Life Group (FLG) at church. It was the first Sunday we visited the group, and one of the ladies said, "Well, I don't know you, but I've followed the love story on facebook." It made me smile, both because it tickled me to think of us as "the love story," and because that really is a great description of our lives together.

Many of you don't know this, but I met Marc when he drove my fiance to the airport in OKC to pick me up from Spring break. I immediately took a dislike to him. To be fair, the feeling was mutual. He thought I was a goody-goody bowhead (a girl with long hair and a perpetual bow in said hair), and I thought he was a bad boy whose parents probably sent him to a Christian college to help him turn his life around. It makes me smile to this day to remember that awkward drive from Oklahoma City to Shawnee, trying to make chitchat and finally giving up, because we clearly just didn't like one another. I was a sophomore in college, and he was a freshman. We would not cross paths again for two years. When we did, I had (obviously) broken off my engagement. I was co-directing a show at school, and he was doing lights and sound. He loaned me a pen to make some notes and stayed behind to retrieve it. We began talking, and as the saying goes, that's all she wrote. I was hooked (pardon the pun) from that conversation onward. I told my roommate when she got up the next morning that I was going to marry him, and I was right. That was in September, 1988, and 23 years later, I only like and love him more.

It has not been a perfect ride. Like every marriage, there have been times of trouble, bumps in the road that we had to survive. Some of those bumps were pretty rough. Some of them were just normal, every day getting-on-each-other's-nerves kind of seasons. If I had to identify the hardest times, definitely one of them would be our first months in Russia, when we were in language school. I can remember saying to him, "I love you, but I don't really like you right now." To his credit, he didn't respond in kind. We survived it, in large part due to his kindness to me, his gracious nature with me. The only time I remember him "putting his foot down" was a time when I freaked out about something and said we were going home to America. He took me into the kitchen (where the kids couldn't hear us) and he said, "Kellye, going home is like divorce. We're not going to do it, and so we're not going to say it. I don't want to hear it again." In many ways, that was a turning point for me. It made me dig my heels in and just determine to stay and to be content.

That's what great relationships do, isn't it? When the proverb says, "iron sharpens iron," it's talking about a relationship in which we make each other better. And that's what my relationship with Marc does--it makes me better. He sees the good in me when I don't. He sees my potential when I don't. When I am too tired and weak to be of much good to anybody, he steps in and holds me up until I can stand on my own. He prays for me. He tells me constantly that I am loved. He makes me laugh until I cry and make weird snorting sounds, and then he thinks that's cute. I ordered bread at the bakery yesterday, all in German, and if he had been here when I got home, he would have high-fived me. He is my cheerleader, my biggest supporter, my very best friend. I love him, certainly, but I also really, really like him. Blessings, blessings, blessings...everywhere I look.

Every once in a while, we get a remark that we should 'get a room,' not be vocal about our relationship, tone it down, etc. Nah. I think I'll take the Tim Tebow approach: any time I am given an opportunity to give Marc a 'shout-out,' I think I'll do it. Because in turn, I'm giving glory to God. Never in a million years would anyone have picked out Marc Hooks and Kellye Hodges for one another. And yet, a loving God had an incredible plan for our lives, one that we could not have imagined. When I look at Marc, at our marriage, our family, this incredible adventure we are on together--I know that only a good and loving God could have written this love story. I would not ever agree to be quiet about my love for God. And I will never stop praising Him for one of His very best gifts to me--Marc. Instead, I'll just let the ultimate Author continue to write our love story.

Well, finally--someone is up at my house besides me! I've already made the maple syrup, so now it's time to make the French toast to go with it. We're looking forward to talking to our home church in Florida this evening--can't wait to tell all about life in Austria! Wherever you are in the world, I pray that the God who loves you so is also writing a great love story in your life, and that you are talking to folks at home today, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,

Kellye