Praying for Rain

I love this picture. This is John at the British Museum. He looks just like his Daddy in this picture. Of course, he looks just like his Daddy in every picture. :)

Tash decided she needed some quiet time this morning, too, so she planted herself smack in the middle of my quiet time. 

You made every star and
You taught it how to shine.
You knew my name before there was time.
All this is just part of Your glorious design.
Alleluia! Alleluia! "All My Praise" by Selah

I posted the last line of this chorus on my facebook wall yesterday, and I got several questions about it. No, nothing spectacular had happened. I was simply acknowledging the comfort I feel in knowing that what touches my life and my family is part of a design God has always had for me and for us. Before the world was formed, He knew my name. He knows me. He knows my heart. He chooses to love me beyond reason, anyway. Oh, my friends...in dark days and in light seasons, isn't that good news? To be known and loved by the Maker of the Universe? It doesn't mean that life is easy--anybody who says life is easy just isn't paying attention. But to know that ultimately, the plan for my life is to create in me a heart that mirrors His...that has to make the hard times better, I think.

It's raining in Vienna this morning. And with the rain, a cool breeze is blowing through the city. We live on the top floor of our building, and when it's hot outside, it's sweltering in the flat. John and I have been sweaty messes for most of the week, just trying anything we could to stay cool. It's especially hard when we sleep, because his bedroom and ours are upstairs in our flat, and it's even hotter there than the rest of the apartment. Trying to sleep while you're sweating is not pleasant. With Marc gone, I don't sleep that well, anyway, so this has only made it worse. And when I get up in the morning, there are duvets everywhere I look, as though I've been wrestling all night with some invisible giant. So God knew what He was doing when He sent me somewhere cool, like Europe, which really doesn't have many truly sweltering days. You can imagine, then, that the cool breeze and rain is more than welcome...it's an answer to prayers for relief from the heat.

Now, if Marc were here, he'd poke a little fun at me for turning the rain into a metaphor for how God works in our lives. But I can't help myself, and he's in Russia, so he probably won't even see this post. I was talking to an old friend earlier this week about where we are in terms of transition and feeling settled, etc., in Vienna, and we were talking about the first 18 months or so in Russia. Those were truly some of the most difficult months of our family's life. In metaphorical terms, it was hot. Together 24/7 in a two-bedroom apartment in a city the size of Moscow...well, let's just say that God was using that experience to refine us. He was sloughing off a lot of stuff in our hearts and our lives that He couldn't use and that weren't leading us to holiness. I told my friend this week that though those were difficult, terrible months, God accomplished some of His most beautiful work in us during that time. And after 18 months of heat, when the rains came and cooled things down, when we had the chance to look around and see how God had been at work (because isn't it hard to see when you're in the middle of it?)...amazing. But without the heat, the rain would just be rain, right? Without having been through the refiner's fire, we wouldn't experience such overwhelming joy at the coolness of the rain. And so I'm not just grateful for the rain. I'm also grateful for the heat. Because I know this for sure and for certain--our God never wastes anything. Not a single experience is wasted if we let Him use it. Not the heat. Not the rain.

It's only going to get up to about 75F today, according to the forecasts I've seen. So I'm looking forward to not sweating to death as I go about the day. And next week, when it climbs into the 90s again, I will remember that it's a cycle, that there is heat, then cooling down, then heat, then cooling down...it goes on and on until the fall, when it will just cool down. And life is like that, too. There are times of being refined, and then times of enjoying a season of peace and comfort. But it's good to remember and recognize those times of comfort, because they certainly help us get through the fire, don't they? Just knowing that relief is coming helps us hold on. Whatever circumstance or season you find yourself in, I pray you can remember that God's plan and design for you is perfect and holy. And I hope that you are looking forward to your beloved being home soon, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Thankful for His encouragement

My girls are glad to be together. That makes my heart smile.

John in front of Windsor Castle

See that face? I love it. That face is one of my favorites.

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

Good morning from sunny and HOT Vienna!! John and I are back from our trip to London, where we spent a great day at Legoland and a great day at the British Museum. Best of all, we spent time together. I'm not dumb--he's eleven, so a time is coming when maybe a trip with Mom doesn't sound so cool, so I'm eating up this time while I'm still fun to be around, and he's not afraid to hold my hand as we ride the bus. :) I know from experience that this moment is fleeting. Wasn't it yesterday that he was 6 and running around Moscow? Wasn't it???

When I started this blog--five years ago!!!--I promised you and myself that I would always be open and honest about our experiences overseas, that I would try to keep myself from putting on a facade to make you like me more. I've tried really hard to be faithful to that, to honestly and openly share the faith journey I and my little family are on as we follow our incredible God on an amazing adventure. I have tried not to sugarcoat the difficulties of transitioning into Vienna. And in many, many ways, I believe we are still in transition. We haven't quite found ourselves here, yet. But in the sharing of difficulties, I never, ever want to forget to share the ways our faithful, faithful God daily encourages our hearts, no matter where we are in the world. So here are some ways He has encouraged me in the last couple of weeks, things I hope will also encourage you as you travel your own path.

• Visas: I won't say a lot about this, just that our visa situation has taken a very positive turn, and we could not be more delighted. As always, God is 100% right on time. Never early. Never late. 
• Our kids: Sarah Beth is in a tremendous, wonderful relationship that makes her so happy. Hannah had some really positive things happen at the end of school and is, even as I write this, at church camp in the States, where I know she is with people who love her and will lift her up. John is deeply in love with Vienna, and he is so appreciative of the opportunities we've been given. (As we walked into the British Museum, he told me he really loved our life, and he is pretty sure not many kids from Middleburg, Florida, get the chance to go to the British Museum. It made me smile.) When my kids are encouraged, I am encouraged. God has abundantly encouraged them, particularly in the last few weeks.
• Marc's current trip: I'm not sure what's going on in Russia on this trip, because he doesn't have enough internet to do anything more than post on my facebook wall, but I can tell from his posts that he is deeply, deeply moved by what he is finding and experiencing. He is with men he loves and admires, and who I know are encouraging and loving. While his life with one foot here and one foot there is difficult, it is good to be reminded how much he loves his job and how much work there is to be done. 
• Language: German is learnable, and God is faithful. I was particularly encouraged by the many people who spoke German with me on our trip to London, even though they could have easily spoken English. Austrians are generally very polite, and they are not anxious to watch me struggle with their language. However, by speaking with me, they help my language improve.
• Friendships: With Americans and with Austrians, we are developing deeper and deeper relationships. I'm thankful.

• Vienna: No matter how hard our transition to the city has been, our love for it has only grown. The longer I'm here, the more I adore this beautiful place. And the longer I'm here, the more brokenhearted I am for its deep, deep darkness. Don't be fooled by the pretty pictures and gorgeous mountains and lovely churches...there is spiritual darkness and lostness here, an indifference to the things of God that originally inspired so much of the beauty and culture around us. But that brokenness is exactly what we asked for when we came here--that God would break our hearts for what breaks His. And there is no doubt in my mind that He has done exactly that.

I could go on and on and on. If you're a long-time reader of this blog, or even if you've just found it, my prayer is that you will see an over-arching theme in everything I write: He is faithful. In the big, in the small, in the in-between, He is faithful. I have tasted and seen His goodness. I have been the recipient of His grace and mercy. I am awestruck by the vastness and incomprehensibility of His glory. Our little family--strung out across three continents at the moment--has followed our big God on an incredible adventure. And in every single moment, in every tear, in every problem, in the great joys and laughter of it all, in every Phase 10 game, in every little Russian or Czech or Austrian village, in every experience and every relationship--He is faithful. I am often not faithful. I judge and I criticize and I worry and I fret. And yet, He--the giver of all good gifts--He loves me and holds me in His righteous right hand. When I really take the time to come face to face with His unaltered goodness to me and mine...I am brought to my knees in thankfulness. I stand amazed and awestruck in the presence of the One who made me, who knows me, and who loves me in spite of myself. How can I be anything but encouraged?

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know this: what He has done for me, His grace, His mercy, His undying faithfulness, He has done for the whole world. My little family--we are beyond ordinary. We're just broken jars of clay. But His love and grace and mercy are gifts He has given to the whole world. Me and my family. You and yours. I pray that is good news to your heart today. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

  

Walking across His painting

I don't know what I could say about this that would do it justice. God's handiwork is amazing.

Our mountain view from the boat

No matter where we go, He is already there.

Your lovingkindness, O LORD, extends to the heavens, Your faithfulness reaches to the skies. Your righteousness is like the mountains of God; Your judgments are like a great deep. O LORD, You preserve man and beast. How precious is Your lovingkindness, O God! And the children of men take refuge in the shadow of Your wings. Psalm 36: 5-7

I have a few (very few!) quiet moments this morning, so I thought I'd attempt to put in writing something about our trip to Mariazell in the Steiermark region of Austria. As you can see from the pictures, it is a truly beautiful place, nestled into the mountains, full of calm and peace and really kind people. (John did something--I don't remember what it was--and came back and said, "I love Austrians. They're so nice.") We have just enough German to be able to hold a conversation (a simple one!), and we practiced our German quite a bit. (I mispronounced the word for towel, and had to make the hand motions to explain. That's always fun.) Once you are outside the city, most people will want to speak German, and it's a great, great language exercise to do that. We also are watching the Euro2012 tournament (big news here, probably not in America), and we've laughed at how much the commentary in German is helping our language skills. We've watched every game so far, choosing teams to cheer for based on very, very loose criteria: we know someone there, it's a neighboring country, we speak the language--Ukraine and Germany are on our roster for this reason--or, of course, we love the country like it's our own--Russia got our most fervent support. It's been fun. We have a sticker book (okay, John has a sticker book), and it's fun to learn the names of the players. Our only problem with the German commentary came when they turned Russian names into German letters--what is that 'j' doing there, we kept asking--and when they interviewed our favorite Russian player--Arschavin--and he spoke Russian and then they dubbed it in German. That was a little too confusing for our already-addled brains, but we survived. :)

We went to Mariazell because we needed a retreat. We needed to be alone, outside the city, and talk and pray and figure out why we are so worn out. We also needed to laugh. And we did those things. We didn't hear God give us any big answers to the questions we're asking Him right now, but we did find rest in the shadow of His wings. We played cards, ate too much Schnitzel, swam, rode in a boat on an Alpen lake, ate ice cream that was far inferior to the ice cream shop in our neighborhood...it wasn't all serious. But some of it was. Before we all split up for the next month, we wanted to hear our children's hearts about some of the things going on with us since coming here. We wanted to come up with some "Hooks Family Values" and figure out what God might be doing in our lives here in Vienna. And I think we did do that. Mostly, we just talked and laughed. It was nice to laugh, to feel like ourselves, to play together.  If you didn't know, my kids will make you laugh until you cry. They are hilarious! And that Hooks guy is no slouch in the laughter department, either.

Most of the things we said to each other are, of course, too personal to share in this public forum. But one of the things Hannah said stuck with me through the entire trip. We were driving through the Alps (and feeling pretty carsick, frankly, from the twists and turns), when we came up over a hill and around a turn where we were presented with an incredible view. Rolling mountains, sunshine, lakes...it looked like something out of a book, not like real life. Yet there it was in front of us. We all went silent and just looked. Then Han said, "Isn't it amazing to think that we are walking across the picture God's been painting for the last two thousand years?" Nobody responded. John went back to his DS game, Hannah went back to sleep, and Marc and I just took in the scenery as we drove.

I've been turning over that statement for three days, now, and it's probably one of the most reassuring, comforting things I've heard in a while. Because we ARE walking across His painting. Not just because we live in this beautiful place He created and that we love, but because we are walking across His plan for this place and these people. And if He has a plan, then He knows. He knows how tired we are. He knows that we are homesick. He knows that we have questions. He knows about my Dad's health and how much that scared me. He knows how much we miss Sarah Beth. He knows. He knows. He knows. And just like the Alps don't move no matter what storm comes or how hard the wind blows, His love for us, for our little family (and yours!) never changes. It is steadfast. It is wherever we are. Russia. Czech Republic. Florida. Austria.  He who was and is and is to come has a plan. For me. For my family. For this city we love. For the nations. And He has invited us to walk across His plan. Us. I'll never get over it. He called us. Love so amazing, it leaves me breathless.

So we didn't make any life-changing decisions. We didn't hear thundering voices (we did hear thunder, though, and it was pretty cool). But we rested in the knowledge that He is God. He is trustworthy. He loves us beyond our ability to understand. And wherever we are, He is. That is pretty good news, my friends. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know that the Master of the Universe is there, too, and that you are cheering for Ukraine and England later tonight, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

A few words for "my" seniors

Some of my AICE seniors from Fleming Island High School met me here in Vienna.

I thank my God every time I remember you. Philippians 1:3

I am once again sidelined by knee pain--propped up on the couch comforting myself with a pumpkin spice latte--after an evening that will, in a few years, be hysterically funny. Suffice to say that a five mile hike through downtown Vienna when you're trying to recover from a knee injury does not help said injury. Pray for poor John--he was my traveling companion on this particular quest, and he's probably going to need years of therapy to recover. Not really, because he's John, and he's a super happy, easy kid, but bless his heart. And yes, eventually I am going to have to call the doctor. I've obviously really done something to the knee. Urgh.

So here I sit, on a day I was supposed to be meeting some ladies for coffee. (One of the ladies is sick and cancelled, or I would have limped my way pathetically to the center to meet them.) I've been a bit blue  the last two days, and I really couldn't put my finger on it. After all, we had what was probably the best weekend we have had since coming to Vienna last weekend. Friends, celebrations, more new friends, The Avengers (in English!), followed by McDonald's and Starbucks...we honestly could not have had a better three-day weekend. So why was yesterday so awful and blue? And then, thinking my way through Facebook posts and sweet notes from people I love, I realized the problem. My kids are graduating. And I'm not there.

Last year, my former boss was kind enough to hire me for the year I was in the States to teach. He knew I wasn't staying, and he chose to hire me, anyway. It was such a kind thing to do.  I taught tenth graders and AICE eleventh graders. If you aren't familiar with AICE, it's a program out of the University of Cambridge, and it's based on the British education system. It's an advanced program, with students taking difficult exams in nearly every subject in order to quality for the AICE diploma. Think of it as being an AP student in all subjects. I had 66 kids in three classes, and I really enjoyed teaching them. I've gotten several sweet notes in the last week (thank you so much!) from some of them. I love any note that begins with Dear Mrs. Hooks, because I know that it's from someone I've taught. And I truly love teenagers and teaching and schools. I'm passionate about my subject, but I'm far more passionate about kids. It's made my life as an adult so full of joy. And I'm missing their graduation. So, here are the things I'd say to you guys if I could sit with you face to face:

• Don't be ashamed of being smart, but don't think you're the smartest person in the room, either: as I've gotten older, I've grown to appreciate that in my area, I have some gifts, but I'm basically a complete idiot in other areas. It balances my view of the world. You are all bright, gifted, talented and wonderful. But so are a lot of people. Appreciate your own gifts, but appreciate the gifts of others, too.
• Kindness matters: I have sometimes regretted the snarky, sarcastic comment. I have never regretted being kind. And I'll be honest--those moments of kindness have gotten me farther in life than the snarky ones have. Some of you are truly kind, gentle souls. Embrace it. 
• Choose your career carefully: I have not made a ton of money as a teacher, but I've enjoyed every second of it. I've lived a life full of joy and happiness because I got to spend it with wonderful people like you. There's something to be said for living a life of service to humanity. There's also nothing wrong with being wealthy. I'm just saying that if you can manage both...that would be pretty sweet.
• Choose your friends carefully: You guys have been joined at the hip with each other since freshman year. You've made incredible friendships. Don't take them for granted. As you go out into a larger world, choose the people you invest your life in carefully. There are people who will want you in their lives for less than stellar reasons. Avoid them. You have too much to offer to waste your time on people who aren't going to enrich your life as you enrich theirs. 
• If you choose a spouse, choose as carefully as possible: This is a giant, huge, life-changing decision. I almost married the wrong guy. That thing in your gut that says something isn't quite right--listen to it. I did, and I married the right guy in the end. And you know what? Except for Jesus, the best decision I ever made. He has enriched my life in a thousand ways, taken me away from my books into the real world, and led me on the grandest adventure I can imagine. Plus, he's cute, so I double-scored. :) The right spouse makes life sweet--not easy, but sweet. The wrong spouse makes life a nightmare. Choose wisely.
• Have a plan, but listen to your heart: A plan is good. You have to know that anybody who was as intent on having her stapler at a 90 degree angle as I was had to be a plan kind of gal. But sometimes opportunities present themselves out of nowhere, and they are the road less traveled that Frost wrote about. Fleming Island High was that fork in the road for me. I had a plan. My plan changed. And it was the best decision I could have made, because I loved working at Fleming Island High. And I loved being your teacher. But if I'd stuck with my plan, I'd never have experienced that joy.
• Give faith a chance: I know, I know. You knew I would come to it eventually. I can't help it--I'm just a Jesus girl. :) Sometimes, in academia we think that you have to be an academic or a person of faith. I don't believe that in the least. I've lived the life of both and found them to mesh well together. Be an expert in your field. Be a doctor or lawyer or teacher or researcher or housewife. But give Jesus a chance. Read the Bible. See who He really is. Don't write off Jesus because sometimes those of us who follow Him are just disasters. We're human and full of flaws, to say the least. But choosing to follow Him--even across the world--has been the best decision of my life. I know how much He loves you. And I know He has an incredible plan for your life, just like He has an incredible plan for mine. He's worth the time to get to know, I promise. 

If I were there Friday night, I'd hug you and take pictures with you in the cafeteria. I'd help you get your stoles adjusted, bobby pin your caps so they sat right, and smile as you marched out. Then, as you got your diplomas, I would cry. Like a baby. Because I'm so incredibly proud of you. You are wonderful, smart, kind, generous people, and the world is about to be better because you'll be out in it. One of the great joys of my time in the States was being your teacher. Thank you for sharing your lives with me, even from far away. I love each and every one of you so much. Godspeed, sweet friends.

His,
Kellye

Channeling Miss Louise

The beautiful freshmen girls at Schloss Belvedere

Hannah and her lovely friend, Steffi

Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? Matthew 7:3

Every family has its own folklore, traditions, legends...those parts of family life that can easily be conveyed to one another with a look or a gesture or a phrase. They don't mean much to people outside the family, but to those inside the family, they are likely to induce hilarity and snickering. For example, in the Hooks family, all you have to say is "sock monkey," and my three kids break down in laughter, remembering the time that--in complete and total frustration--I ripped the head off of John's beloved sock monkey. I'm not proud of that, but it was a thousand years ago, and now I can see why it's so funny. We even have a sock monkey ornament on our Christmas tree, both to commemorate how much John looked like a sock monkey when he was a baby (don't judge--he did) and the aforementioned beheading. In my family growing up, Miss Louise was a fixture in our family folklore. I'm not sure if she taught both my sisters or not, but I know she was Kay's teacher. She had little sayings that she would repeat (doesn't every teacher?), and those little sayings became a part of our family language patterns. My personal favorite is, "You take care of yourself, and you've got a mighty big job to do." And this morning, I am channeling Miss Louise (without the horn-rimmed glasses) and remembering that taking care of the plank in my eye is, indeed, a mighty big job.

One of the things that happens when we ask God to be at work is that He obliges us, and that isn't always comfortable. I'm reading a book by Jerry Bridges--The Pursuit of Holiness--and it is kicking my behind. In studying the book, I have had to take a long look in the mirror at what keeps me from holiness, what I choose to indulge in because I categorize my own sins as not so bad. That is a self-centered view of sin. Bridges encourages readers that our sorrow over sin must be God-centered--that we must repent from sin because it so offends a holy God. He talks about obedience rather than victory--that holiness is about obedience to our God rather than victory we accomplish. OUCH!! All of that hit me squarely in the eye this week.

If you read this blog or you are friends with me on facebook, you know that the last month has been truly awful and stressful. Lots of things are going on that are causing the stress in our little family to build--continued transition, language exams, my Dad's illness, and other things too personal to share in a public format. Stress, stress, stress. Seldom in the four years we've spent overseas have I wanted to go home so badly. And not just to visit. But to give up. Pack our bags. Leave. Teach school in Florida and be a missions pastor. Forever. :) Do you get the idea? The stress has been awful.

Now, before you start sending me messages not to give up, we're not going to do any of that. Nobody should make life-changing decisions in the middle of transition. We haven't been here long enough to give up. And my Daddy would KILL me if I came home because of his illness. :) So we're not leaving. But I really wanted to. Even Marc has felt defeated and just down. It's not been a great time. But as we try to do in any difficult situation, we are asking God to show us what He's doing. What He's trying to teach us. What ugliness He's sloughing off so that the new man can thrive. And that is why I'm channeling Miss Louise this morning.

It is easy, isn't it, to get caught up in the people who don't behave like you want them to behave.  Those people can fill up your life if you let them. And in facing my own sins, this is a biggy--I easily become focused on the negatives in this life. I want people to be kind, to be thoughtful, to be encouraging, to be loving--and when they aren't, I am really angry at them. And if I let myself, I hold onto that anger and let it build. That is what I've gotten caught up in during the last month. In all the change and transition and dealing with people all over the world, I've been angry. Angry that people don't do what they say they are going to do. Angry at doctors who take forever to make a diagnosis. Angry at people who are thoughtless. And some anger that God has chosen the middle of transitioning into a new culture to do some scrubbing up in my life.

So what do you do about this kind of anger, which is clearly not righteous anger or anger that's making me holier? Of course, prayer and confession and cleansing come first. Always. But then, at least for me, it's helpful to focus on the people who have been so great. Encouraging words. Kindnesses, big and small. People who have faithfully prayed for our family. Friends here, with little gestures, who have lightened the load. My sweet, sweet friend, who has checked on me and encouraged me, even while she's on vacation. Old friends who understand and give up their day to have "coffee" that turns into lunch. Growing ministry opportunities here. Gifts that make it possible for Hannah to go home to Florida in 22 days--not that she's counting. Family Life Groups who send packets of cards and gifts for our birthdays. The family friend who has stayed at the hospital to translate the medical-ese for my parents and help comfort the three far-away daughters. The precious friends who raced to the hospital. Aunts and uncles who faithfully pray for us, and send us sweet email messages on a nearly-weekly basis. Beloved, treasured mentors who encourage us on skype and facebook and email, whose very lives are examples of running this race well. Too many kindnesses and encouraging words to recall here. Far more people in my life act exactly as they should, far more go above and beyond to love and encourage me, than don't. That has to be a reason to let go of anger and bitterness.

And finally, I've had to look at the speck in my own eye. Am I kind, thoughtful, encouraging? Sometimes. Sometimes not. But that is something I can control. I cannot make other people do anything, but I can be kind and encouraging, even to those who don't reciprocate. I can love people who are a little harder to love. I can focus on the sin in my own life, and let God deal with others. Or I can make myself (and everyone around me) miserable and become bitter and angry and unusable. Hmmmm...that doesn't seem like much of a choice to me. I think I definitely choose to saw away at my own plank.

Well, it's time to clean the apartment. I'm not sure this will make sense to anyone outside of Europe, but our living room windows have been open, and it looks like it has snowed on our tv. Is it cottonwood? I only know what it is in Russian--pux. Terrible stuff. Then we're going to the flea market at school to shop around for bargains. Who knows what fabulous treasures we'll find? And tomorrow, we celebrate Marc's birthday with friends. Sounds like it's going to be a good weekend. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are focused on your own plank instead of someone else's speck, and that you are looking forward to getting some housework done today, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Wakened by the Wind

Tash loves to snuggle into anything. Here, she is enjoying our Easter decorations.

Watchcats on patrol. I'm sure the neighborhood is much safer for their efforts. And yes, B is that much bigger than Tash.

Part of me is reaching. Part of me holds back. But when it comes to You I am a doorway you're free to walk into. No one knows my heart better than You. --Susan Ashton

Do you ever have something happen that randomly reminds you of something else, and the association sort of startles you? I had that experience in the middle of the night a couple of nights ago. We live on the top floor of our building, and when the wind blows, it BLOWS. I had left our window a tiny bit cracked, and the wind was shaking the blackout shade so hard at 2am, I thought we were having an earthquake at first. Realizing what it was, I got up to completely close the window, and the words 'wakened by the wind' flashed through my brain. I probably smiled, because Wakened by the Wind was an album by Susan Ashton that Marc and I loved when we were first married. It came out, I think, in 1991, and we got the chance to see her in concert that summer. She was kind of ordinary--no big light show or anything like that, just her and her guitar. We loved every song on that album. It was kind of a raw album--she'd written the songs, and they were very open and vulnerable. We listened to it again and again and again, memorizing every word of every song. It was important to us, which is why, 22 years later, it popped into my mind at 2am in Vienna, Austria, of all places.

It's been an interesting week. Marc is gone, sailing from Croatia to Venice and back. We've had little contact from him, because he's on a boat, and there isn't a ton of internet access. But what we've heard sounds like he's having a great time. He loved Venice, and is anxious for us to go back--it's only 4 hours from here. I've had AP exams to give at the kids' school, so I've been busy, but not. A lot of giving AP exams is being organized beforehand, and then being quiet while they take the exams. I have one this afternoon, but I don't have to be there until 11 or so to give it. So I've had a lot of quiet to think in and through. Sometimes that's a good thing, and sometimes it's a bad thing. :) I think this time, it was a good thing. Plus, let's face it--with Marc home, there isn't a ton of quiet. I love and adore him, but he's a verbal processor, which means everything has to be talked through. Aloud. Usually with me. So while I don't like Marc being gone, since it's so much a part of our life here, I've come to at least appreciate that it gives my introverted soul a bit of time to not talk. :)

So what have I been thinking about? Hmmmm...lots of stuff. Everything from how we can eat better and get more exercise to the meaning of our lives here has crossed my mind and been pondered. I've been thinking about our marriage, about the relationships our kids are making here and overseas, what it will be like when we are empty-nesters...name something. I've thought about it. I've been reading a book with an interesting section on planning your married life backwards--what it will look like on the last day of your life, what your goals are, etc. I've been thinking about that. Just thinking, thinking, thinking. And reading, reading, reading. I've already read three novels and a couple of non-fiction books this week, mostly while kids are testing. (I don't want you to think I'm neglecting my kids with my nose stuck in a book!)

There is a lot of contentment to be found in being where God wants you. I am very content right now. I know, clearly, that we are where we are supposed to be. I'm not always super happy here, and there are things I would definitely change if I could, but I'm content. But I have sensed for several months--probably since around December--a restlessness deep inside myself that I can't get rid of. I don't want to be restless. I want to be settled. I haven't been settled in a long time, and my soul yearns for it. But I'm restless. This week gave me the chance to think about why I'm restless. Is it that God is preparing us for some kind of change? I have no clue, but I don't really think so. We love Vienna and have no desire to leave. Plus, it's a great location if your husband travels as much as Marc does, because it is centrally located in Europe. There have been lots of changes on our team, and transition has taken longer than I would have hoped, but that doesn't seem to be the cause, either. I really don't know what it is. But I feel like something is happening, not on the outside, where you can see it, but deep inside me. Something is really changing. I feel like God is sloughing off some old stuff that needs to go, but the new stuff is still too raw to be useful. (If you're a guy, and you haven't used a loofah, that isn't going to make a lot of sense to you. Sorry.) But there is definitely change happening. And I think I'm ready for it.

So what does that have to do with the wind rattling my window and waking me up? The lyrics from one of the songs came to me at 2am, standing at my window to shut it, looking through the only partially-pulled shade at the city:

I can face a lot of people with this sanguine act of mine
Guarded by the eloquence I sometimes hide behind
But it's a veil of false pretenses that You can see right thru
'Cause no one knows my heart better than you.

No matter what this restlessness is, no matter what is going on with me that is causing it...no one knows my heart like the Creator of my heart. Sometimes, I like to make you think that everything is beautiful and wonderful and grand here, that my life is just rolling along swimmingly. I do like to hide behind eloquence. But my covenant with you when I started writing this blog five years ago was that I would be transparent...with you and with myself. And in that transparency, I would live out this life of faith, hopefully as an encouragement to those of you on this same journey. In the end, whatever this restlessness leads to, my prayer is to glorify Him in it. Through this blog, through my relationships here and in the States, through my faithfulness to His call on my life, through my marriage, through my kids, through my parents and sisters...through the good, the bad and the restless. In all things, I am determined to do two things. I will rejoice. Sometimes that's easy. Sometimes, it's not so easy. But I will rejoice. And I will glorify Him. For His goodness and mercy, for His lovingkindness, and for His constant faithfulness, I will glorify Him. Oh, my friends...He's up to something, and I don't know what it is. But I know Him. His constant, unbridled passion for my soul...I know that. And I know that He is trustworthy beyond measure. So I will not hide behind eloquence. But I will tell you again and again and again...He is faithful. I'll sing it with my dying breath, wherever in the world I might draw it.

Well, time to exercise and get ready to head to school to pack our box and give the last exam. It's been fun being with kids, but I'm ready to have my life back. Plus, my apartment is not neat and tidy when I'm gone all day. I definitely need to spend some time tidying up before Marc sails home tomorrow. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that whatever God is doing in your heart and in your life, you are not hiding from it, and that you are looking forward to your daughter's first formal tomorrow night, too. Blessings to you and yours!!

His,
Kellye

Thankful for small comforts

We took John to the Wiener Maifest at the Prater--a famous amusement park here in Wien. When you see images of Wien, they often contain the huge ferris wheel the city is famous for--it's at Prater.

Enjoying some traditional Austrian food at the Maifest. We had yummy bratwurst and grilled potatoes with ham and onions, which is what John is chowing down on here.

Me and the boy at yesterday's Mother's Day celebration. Forgive my hair--it is so hot, and I was at school to give AP exams all day, so I just threw it up. 

The Lord's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

I'm enjoying a quiet morning here in (for the moment) sunny Vienna. It's supposed to rain/drizzle for a good part of the day, but this morning it is lovely. I'll take the rain, though--our apartment is HOT. All that light and sunshine that makes me happy also makes it very, very warm. Great in the winter--we rarely ran the heat--but pretty rough in the spring/summer. Marc headed out about an hour ago to meet his group at the U-bahn. He will be gone for a week, sailing from Croatia to Venice. The group is a mix of believers and those who aren't, and they're completing an Alpha course while on the trip. It is his birthday present from the kids and I (his birthday is May 26th), and I think he will really have an incredible time. Marc loves to sail, but hasn't had much opportunity to do it. He also loves to talk about Jesus, so this trip ought to be perfect for him.

If you're a prayer partner or a facebook friend, then you know that it's been a bit of a rough week for us. It started last Friday night, when we received a late call from Sarah Beth, who was in Tennessee visiting my aunt and uncle, and she was clearly upset. It's never great news when a call comes in the middle of the night, and this was horrible news about the death of a beloved family member. Saddled with that news, we had to get up early Saturday morning and take our German exam as a requirement for our visa here in Austria. I'm THRILLED to report that we (and our friends who took it with us) passed it with flying colors, but we didn't know that last week. (In fairness, we didn't worry about it after the exam. We knew we'd passed. We didn't know how well we'd done, but we knew we'd passed.) As we went to bed that night, we received a late call from my sister (see the pattern? late call = scary news) telling us that my Dad was in the hospital with chest pains and they were admitting him. Pretty much the rest of the week was figuring out what was wrong, trying to fix it, releasing him on Tuesday, enjoying about 36 hours of relief over that, only to have him readmitted to the hospital yesterday. (This time, it was a facebook message at 4am: call us as soon as you get up. That's never good news.) In the midst of all that, I was proctoring all the AP exams for the kids' school.

Here's the thing: everybody has these seasons, right? Times when stuff is, just frankly, pretty terrible all around. It happens to everyone. We have seasons of positive stuff, followed by seasons of what seem like waves of tragedy, despair, worry and unhappiness. In the middle of all this, we are still trying to transition successfully to a new culture/country/language. Culture shock makes everything magnified. Everything. Ask anyone who has been through it. Culture shock means that tiny little stuff that ordinarily wouldn't bother you becomes big, giant stuff that you're ready to quit and head back to the States over. (Yep. It's been that kind of week.) So imagine what the big, giant, this-is-really-a-bad-thing-and-not-just-me-being-dramatic stuff gets blown up into. Crisis. Tragedy. Maybe we should just go home. (Do you get the picture? We've uttered those words several times in the last week.) Even Marc, who NEVER talks about quitting and going home, talked about it this week. Now that's a bad week, my friends. (In the interest of honest disclosure: my Dad is one of Marc's closest friends. His illness has hit Marc very, very hard. He almost didn't go this morning, because Daddy is still in the hospital. They really are so close.) You get the picture, right? It's been a terrible week. Terrible.

So if everyone has these seasons, what can you do in the middle of it? I mean, there have been points this week when, given my druthers, I would have just rocked back and forth in the fetal position in a corner somewhere. Do you just give in? Do you quit and go home? If you know us, you know that the answer to that for us is no. This is our life. Here. In Vienna. We chose this life because God chose it for us. And I'm of the firm opinion that God is not a fan of me sitting in a corner rocking back and forth. :) So what do you do in the middle of the bad seasons?

• Pray. A lot. Often. Alone. With Others. I immediately sent word to my team about what was going on. I called some folks. I knew, for sure, that we could not get through this without serious prayer--ours and others on our behalf. 
• Seek God. We've learned that often, in the middle of the terrible seasons of life, God is doing some of His most beautiful work. I don't know that it makes the terrible any easier, but I know for certain that it makes going through it worth it to me. So I've spent some time this week just asking, "Okay, Lord. What are You doing in me in the middle of all this?"
• Rely on your friends. This is way harder for me than it should be. I am not one to spill my guts to someone. I don't like being dependent on people. It makes me nervous. But this was a week I could not get through on my own. So I asked for some help here in Wien from a couple of gals, and I called some friends back home in Florida. And that lifted me just enough that I could continue with life. 
• Thank people. When we called/texted folks late Saturday night our time that my Dad was in the hospital, they dropped everything and ran to be there. At one point, there were so many that they couldn't get in--they had to stay in the waiting room. I made sure to thank them, because they didn't have to do that. They really didn't. But what a huge comfort that was to our anxious hearts. My mom and dad were not alone. For three daughters far away from their parents, what comfort that kindness was. It occurred to me this week, as I thought my way through the multitude of small kindnesses people had afforded us, that I have never, ever regretted doing something kind. I might regret the snarky sarcasm, or the sharp tongue, but I've never once been sad that I was nice to someone. There's a lesson there somewhere, I think.
• Choose to be grateful. Sometimes, this one was a stretch this week. It was work. I had to make myself, sometimes painfully, be grateful for even the smallest comforts. And there were many small comforts. When we found out my Dad was in the hospital the first time, Hannah was crying in her room, I was crying on the couch, and Marc was probably crying somewhere else. Out of nowhere, I heard singing. It was John. In that sweet, not-yet-changed voice, I could hear, "Here I am to worship. Here I am to bow down. Here I am to say that You're my God." If that doesn't touch your heart, I'm not sure you have one. I was thankful to have AP exams to give this week. I know how to do that. It kept me busy. Plus, I really like kids, so it recharged me to be with them. Three million facebook messages. Prayers from around the world. Sarah Beth being with my parents. Cats curled up on my lap. Small kindnesses. Small comforts. They got me through the week.

I don't know what this week holds, but I'm praying something better than last week.  But if not, I know that I am not alone. I am not forsaken. He is here. He is in control. Nothing surprises Him. And I will continue to take refuge in the God of all comforts, whether they are big or small. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are in the midst of a better season than we are, and that you are taking refuge in the One who loves you best, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye