Being the Body

So what does one do while awaiting word from a distant land? One studies German, that's what. :)

This kid is growing like a weed. Where did our little boy go?

Beautiful flowers from a friend helped me through Friday.

Let love of the brethren continue. Hebrews 13:1

It's a FOOOOOOGGGGGGYYYYYY morning in Vienna. I mean foggy foggy. Not just a little. You can't see buildings, it's so foggy. Vienna sits kind of in a bowl, surrounded by hills (not mountains--don't make that mistake. Austrians will look very confused if you talk about the mountains around Vienna, even if you are from Florida, the flattest place on the planet), and when it's foggy, which it is fairly often this time of year, it does not do it half-way. It goes full out in the fogginess. That, by the way, is related to absolutely nothing in this post--just my little comment on how foggy it is in Vienna. :) Some of you who read this blog are people who believe what I believe and think like I think. Some of you, however, are not. You are former students or colleagues or friends I've amassed over the years, bright, wonderful parts of my life, but you would not count yourselves as followers of Jesus Christ. The common complaint I hear from you is that when you look at Christians, you are not impressed. We don't treat each other well. We eat our young, so to speak, pushing people out of their new-found faith by insisting that they wear certain things or prove their salvation. We are hypocrites. We can't take a joke. We are judgmental and awful, and we are an unappealing group, taken as a whole. (And you know, of course, my answer, because I've given it to many of you individually over the years--follow Jesus, not His followers, because we are a messed up bunch. He, however, is spectacular.) I know the arguments against being a Christian. I also know that from the outside, many of those things appear to be absolutely true. We have often forgotten the true test of Christianity--love. Love. Love. Love. We hear it again and again from Jesus, from His first followers...love each other. It is our love that draws others to Him. It's just that sometimes, we forget and mess up and don't love. We don't love each other. We don't love those who don't believe. We don't love Him.

But let me give a plug for Jesus' followers. While it's true that we are messed up and goofy and often hateful...sometimes we show up and act exactly like we're supposed to--in love. It's no secret, friends, that this past week has been long and hard. Awful. It's been awful. I have been vague about details, because this is a public forum, and it's my parents' decision as to what they tell and don't. But it was not a great prognosis a month ago. Surgery was too risky, too dangerous. Then a second opinion said it was doable, though still risky and dangerous. It's been stressful for my sisters in the States, stressful for my kids, stressful for our parents...stressful. And to be a continent away...unspeakably awful. To add insult to injury, Marc was in Prague all week. (A trip planned long before the surgery, so nothing to be done about it.) So there I sat on Friday, waiting for news, waiting to hear something...alone. (If you don't think I was holding a pity party about being alone, you give me credit for more maturity than I deserve!) But you know what? I wasn't alone at all. (Of course, I had Jesus. I know. I'm talking about Christians here, though.) Messages started arriving Thursday from around the world. (I counted five continents.) A friend showed up with fresh banana bread and a beautiful bouquet. I talked to my sisters and parents before and during the surgery. Friends showed up to sit with my Mom and sister. And then we all rejoiced when the news was good--no organs removed or even touched, a tumor gone, the surgery better than had been hoped for.

You're thinking to yourself that all people, Christians or not, are kind in the midst of a crisis. Perhaps that's true. But this morning, a friend is going with Marc to the doctor, just in case the doctor doesn't speak English and Marc's German isn't good enough, something he volunteered to do. Yesterday, at our sweet Austrian church that we fall a little more in love with every week, a lady told me after a conversation explaining who we are and why we're there (and why our German is so...unusual), that she appreciated that we could live in Vienna without ever speaking German, because so many people here speak English, but we were learning German anyway. What an encouragement! People stopped to speak to me. John had a great Sunday School class, where they never seem irritated that they have to slow down for him. Hannah stayed after because the youth were putting together some praise music, and they wanted her to stay and sing with them. They aren't just nice. We're theirs. We belong there. Not because we are particularly wonderful, or because they are just so nice, but because we all recognize that we are God's family--no matter what language we speak. These are the ties that bind. This common love for the Savior, this common understanding that we are sinners saved by incredible, overwhelming, unspeakable grace...this gives us a love for one another that cannot be understood or explained outside of the massive love our Father has for us.

You know why Jesus and Paul and Peter and James all reminded us about loving each other, loving the brethren or the brotherhood? Because they knew how awful people can be. They knew it was sometimes hard to love each other. They knew that we would be stinky and rotten a lot, that we would feel that we had the right to tear each other apart in the name of "discipline." They knew, because people are people are people, and apart from Christ, we're all pretty stinky. And trust me--be around His church for any amount of time, and someone will hurt your feelings, will say something just awful to you that makes you want to scream, will look you up and down and find you wanting. But that's not Jesus--that's human nature in all its "glory." When we allow Jesus to really inhabit our lives in a significant way, when we stop living for us and live for Him, instead, when we give up our "rights" for His glory and our good...when we actually function as the Body of Christ...it's a beautiful thing. Gorgeous to see. Humbling to behold. And if that isn't an encouragement to you on a foggy, autumn morning, then you just don't want to be encouraged.

Well, time to walk and study German and do some other writing and just generally get moving on this Monday morning. Wherever you are in the world...thank you, thank you, thank you for praying for me, my sisters, and my parents. I smile upon every remembrance of each of you. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

The value of I don't know

My favorite--the Votive Church in Vienna...one of my former students said it reminded her of the beginning of Beauty and the Beast, and I think that's perfect.

O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; my soul thirsts for You, my flesh yearns for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Psalm 63:1

If I had to pick one thing I say more in German than anything else, it would be "Ich weiß nicht," or I don't know. In Russian, the very first thing I learned to say was, "я не понимаю," or I don't understand, and that's a little bit different, isn't it? And in the difference between those two phrases is, at least to me, a picture of one thing I've really learned (the hard way!) in the last five years--the value of admitting that I don't know.

Let's get something straight: I like knowing stuff. I like very much to be right. And I'm very competitive. I wanted to be the best teacher, the best mother, the best wife...not just good or excellent at those things, but the best. I hate losing a game. I hate even more not knowing something. But in the last five years I've learned the value of facing up to what I don't know. And--isn't this true of all of us as we grow and mature, both as people and as Christians--the vast amount of what I don't know is pretty staggering. And I've learned the value of seeing myself in light of how Christ views me instead of how I view myself or how others view me.

When I started learning Russian, in fact the entire time I studied it, I was terrified that people would know I wasn't getting it. I don't understand became a way for me to fall back on the "I'm a language student" position, and ask people to slow down. I still say I don't understand, though I more often ask people to repeat something a little slower auf Deutsch. (I understand women better than men. Is that weird, do you think?) Because I was afraid of people knowing how little Russian I was actually grasping, I became even more scared of speaking to Russians. Because for sure, they would know. I can count to ten for you in several languages now, and that might impress an American who doesn't know those languages, but it's not going to impress a native speaker of those languages, right? So my inability to admit that I was struggling, that I didn't know the answer to something (or even what the question was) became a problem that inhibited me from making relationships. Now, I did get past this, and I have some tremendous relationships with Russian-speakers, both in Russia and the Czech Republic, so I'm not saying I was a total failure. But I might have gotten to those relationships faster and with more depth if I'd been willing to admit that I wasn't following all that was being taught to me. Why did I feel that way? Why was I so hesitant to admit that I was struggling? First, because I am an academic, and I didn't want people to know that I was struggling with something academic. Second, because I was comparing myself to those around me. And you know what? Many of them had been there 7,8, 10 years and spoke fluently. What in the world was I doing comparing myself to them? (And that, by the by, was not their fault. They weren't comparing themselves with me, after all. They knew firsthand how hard the language was.) The sin of this, the real damage I'd done to myself and my ability to really get the language was shown to me in one crystal-clear moment. Marc was in Russia, and I was in Prague, right after church one Sunday, standing with people I considered giants (still do) on the metro platform, waiting for the train. To one of them, I apologized for my poor Russian. (We were all working on a Russian church plant in Prague.) He looked at me and very, very pointedly said, "I've been speaking Russian for 15 years, Kellye. It took me a long time to learn it, and even longer to get good at it. Cut yourself a break. You don't need to apologize to me." He doesn't know it, but that one moment turned around my thinking and my practice of learning language. I speak as much German as I do now because he said that to me three years ago. I did cut myself a break. And I promised myself that I would admit when I didn't know something in order to learn better.

I make five thousand errors a day in German. I just got back a written exercise, something I spent hours putting together, and it is absolutely demolished with corrections. (Smile. Somewhere out there thousands of former AP/IB/AICE students are giggling just a little.) I speak to people on the bus, at markets, at the grocery, at the pharmacy--anywhere anyone will engage me. And you know what? Sometimes my accent is so American that they can't understand me. And it hurts. It really does. Because I am working my heart out here. But here's what I've learned. I can only do what I can do. I can only learn as fast or as much as I can learn. And everyone in Vienna with our company speaks better than I do. But God is God, whether I know the answer or even the question being asked. God is God when I can engage people well auf Deutsch, and He's still God when they look at me like I'm speaking some language from Mars. And the value of I don't know is this: when I don't know, He does. And when I admit that I don't know, I make it possible for someone to teach me. And having a teachable spirit and a teachable heart...well, that's worth any number of ridiculous language errors.

Of course, this has lots of applications in life, doesn't it? Not just language learning, but every day living, I think. The most important thing I ever said in a classroom (outside of "your English teacher loves you/is crazy about you/thinks you're terrific") was, "I don't know. I can look it up, but I don't know it off the top of my head." As we plan and pray for wisdom and strategy to reach this city (and any other city), I have to think that God honors the value of a broken heart that sighs, "Lord, I don't know. I don't know how to do it. Show me." In marriage, in parenting, in friendship...the freedom of admitting that we don't know something opens up incredible doors...for relationships to grow deeper as you find out together, for marriages to grow stronger as you rely upon one another, for parenting to become about what He knows and who He is instead of what we know and who we are. But all of that has to start with those three words: I don't know.

Well, lots to do before my Deutsch lesson today--laundry, groceries, dinner in the crockpot, more studying, of course--so I'd better run. Since this is Wednesday, and I likely won't write again this week, I would ask that you pray for my parents and sisters and I (and, of course, our families) on Friday, as my Daddy goes in for surgery to remove a tumor. European friends, they won't start until about 4 in the afternoon our time on Friday. But if you would say a quick prayer for him, his doctors, his family, his health...we would all count it a blessing. Thanks for that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you know (and don't have to learn the hard way) the value of admitting what you don't know and relying on the One who knows everything, and that you are enjoying a gorgeous fall day where you are, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Goodbye, Dos Vedonya, Auf Wiedersehen

Marc and Sarah Beth right before we took her to the airport to go back to the States.

My sweet friend, Tina, as we were saying goodbye. After their time in the States, they will return overseas, but to a different country.

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. Proverbs 17:17

There are few things in life I think I'm actually an expert on--I am something of an expert on English grammar, on the metaphysical poets (especially John Donne), and on salsa-making, which I've turned into an art, frankly. (Really. Seriously. It's super good.) But those are things I've spent considerable time on, things I've learned about because I had to, frankly--I was an English teacher for many years, I taught John Donne every year I taught (until I was done with Donne--you knew I had to do it, right?), and I could not find a jar of salsa that looked and tasted like actual salsa to save my life in Moscow, so I learned to make my own. But none of these can compare to my expertise at saying goodbye.

When we came overseas the first time, in October, 2007, I thought my goodbyes were done. After all, I'd said goodbye to everyone, everything, and every place I'd ever known, sold everything I'd ever owned, and trekked off across the world to follow God on a grand adventure. I'd stood at the airport while John John clung to my Daddy's leg, refusing to say goodbye. (John John thought Mimi and Poppy were coming with us to Russia. He was not pleased with the news that they were not.) I'd hugged my sisters one last time, weeping in the parking lot. Those had to be the end of the goodbyes, right? WRONG. One hundred percent wrong. Those were only the beginning of this life, a life marked by goodbyes. We've said goodbye to friends who have resigned and gone back to the States, who have not returned to the field because of budget cutbacks, friends who've died suddenly, friends who've relocated to another country or stayed behind when we relocated. Since coming to Vienna a year ago, we've said goodbye to one family who returned to the States to pursue a different ministry and two families who have relocated to other countries. And that doesn't count the goodbyes we've said to Sarah Beth, both last September when we left Florida and this July when she left Vienna. Goodbye is something we know. It's not something we like, but it's something we know. We have, much to our dismay, become experts on leaving and on watching others leave. It is simply a truth of this life.

So why mention this today? Because our beloved home church is saying goodbye to her pastor of 14 years, whose family is moving to Alabama to pastor another church. Fourteen years is a long time, and in those fourteen years, our little church on the hill became that huge church on the hill--a giant presence in our community, a place where people reach out to their community and to the whole world. And today, they must say goodbye to this man they love, to his beautiful wife and his sons, who they've watched grow up. Goodbye. It sounds so...final and dismaying. But take heart, dear friends at First Baptist Church of Middleburg, Florida. With my expertise at goodbyes, I can assure you that for the believer, it's never a final goodbye.

Sometimes, God is shocking. Okay, more than sometimes. Often, God is shocking. He's a God of surprises, of roads we could not have imagined, of unplanned adventures. And while we think that makes our lives pretty fun and exciting, we sometimes get stuck thinking everyone else's life stays the same. But the truth is, if you're a follower of Jesus Christ, life is very interesting. If you're not your own, if you follow the God of Everything, then your life is not going to be sedentary. I'm sure there are many people who thought the pastor would stay forever, ending his career at the city on the hill. But the truth is that God had a different plan. And that's great for him and his family, but it's also great for the church. In the same way that when our children are mature enough to be sent out of our nests into the big world, we know it's time, our pastor knew that it was time for him and his family to minister elsewhere. He has followed God to bring the church this far. And now, God has something else for him, and someone else for the church. It's the way things are supposed to be. And while it's always sad to say goodbye, it's also a time of great thanksgiving. What a blessing to be part of God's enormous family, where goodbye isn't final, where until we meet again has real meaning to it. And what amazing things our God has done on that hill in tiny Middleburg, Florida, things no one could have imagined, things that cannot be of any other hand than His mighty hand. One of the pastor's favorite sayings is, "The best is yet to come." I know and have seen the workings of the God of the Universe, my friends. And I know for sure that the best--the very best--is, indeed, yet to come, both for the First Baptist Church of Middleburg and the pastor and his family.

So our goodbye is not goodbye. It's dos vedonya, auf wiedersehen--until we see each other again. What a blessing and a comfort for all who know Him to know that goodbye...well, it isn't really goodbye. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are as blessed with the fellowship of an incredible church as we are, and that you did not wait until today to finish your German homework for tomorrow, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Sharing life, kids and strong Viennese coffee

How cute is this? Marc and his pal, Tash, studying German.

We have been together since 1988, living the most incredible adventure. Here we are in front of the Wiener Rathaus.

Set up for the evening--Sooner game on tv, Gators on the big editing monitor. This is how pretty much every Saturday night of our lives looks during college football season.

 

There is no more lovely, friendly or charming relationship, communion or company, than a good marriage. ~ Martin Luther 

Well, friends, I find myself in an unfortunate but familiar position this morning--propped up on my couch with an aching knee and lower back. Marc and I walked all over Wien yesterday, just for fun, and by last night I was hurting. I woke up this morning in real pain. I've taken some Aleve and am praying for relief. I'm also praying that this is not how the rest of my life is going to be--plagued by knee and back problems. Oh, well. Enough complaining. At least my Gators won!! :)

Yesterday was one of those days that every couple needs--no plans, no agenda, and no work--just enjoying time together. I think sometimes from our pictures and posts on facebook, it may seem that our lives overseas are one long vacation--living in fun places, traveling to other fun places. And while it's true that we do love, love, love to travel and see different parts of this amazing continent, most of the time, our lives are filled with work. Marc often works until 1 or 2am on whatever video project he has at the moment. I feel like I do nothing but housework and homework all day long. (Both my German homework and helping with the kids' homework.) And that can stretch into our weekends, and in fact, it often does. So yesterday, with nothing on our agenda for the day except college football that night, we decided just to go out and walk around Wien. So we did. We got off at Rathaus (city hall) and walked to the Votivkirche and then down to the canal and the Ring. We hit a Flohmarkt, which is kind of an organized garage sale, where I picked up two books in English and Marc bought ice skates (for 5 Euros!!!), and we practiced our German. Getting out and doing things is the best way to practice a language, without question. One thing I am particularly working on is my accent, which still sounds very Russian. (My teacher told me this week I have a Kaisermuhlen accent--the neighborhood we live in has a distinct way of saying things, and I say them like everybody else here in this part of town. Hmmm...) So getting out was good. We practiced reading German inside the Kirche, where there are lots of memorials. We never get the English headsets in a museum with Deutsch, because we'll never learn it if we do that. It can make it harder, for sure, but it's great practice. We stopped at a cafe, then headed home to grocery shop and do homework (which absolutely did NOT get done).

One of the benefits/issues of this life overseas is that we are together 24/7. Sure, there are meetings, etc., and Marc has a pretty heavy travel schedule, but mostly, we're together. That can be blessing or problem, depending on the day. When we first came overseas, especially because we came at the onset of winter in Russia, it was not a blessing. All three of our kids plus us in a Russian apartment, while we learned Russian and I homeschooled...well, let's just say it wasn't particularly pleasant. But we survived it, and we learned some important lessons along the way. Since I seem to be into lists lately, here are some things we've learned about marriage in the last five years overseas:

• Every marriage has highs and lows. Listen, those people who claim to have a perfect marriage where they never fight are probably fibbing a bit. You know what? Marc and I are in accord about just about everything in the world, but we fight. The last year has been a really rough one for us, and we have fought. But no fight, no argument, no disagreement is the end of anything or that big a deal. Everybody fights. Everybody struggles. Marriage is hard, and anybody who says it isn't is lying. It's hard, because it's all about the other person, and if we're honest, we all have the capacity for truly horrendous self-centeredness. If every fight makes us worry that somehow our marriage isn't a good one, then we don't have a big-picture view of life. So appreciate the high points, pray through the low points, and hang on.
• Learn to laugh. I just have to tell you--sometimes we are complete idiots. We make huge language mistakes or culture mistakes, or we say something ridiculous. We can laugh or we can cry. From experience, I can say that laughing is far superior. There are certainly times to cry, but often, a good laugh just makes everything better.
• Be interested in each other. I watch a thousand videos a year. Marc listens to me talk incessantly about books and education. I can't tell you a single thing about video editing, and Marc couldn't care less about Jane Austen and why I've decided to reread all her books. (In case you're wondering, it's because I feel like I haven't given her a fair shake. Other people love her. I need to take a second look.) But we are deeply interested in one another. You know why I'm a college football fanatic? Because Marc is, and so it became interesting to me. He is the most interesting person I've ever known, this guy who God so graciously gave me. He makes my life broader than books and cats and what to make the kids for breakfast. 
• Have a deep respect for one another. If you ask Marc, he would tell you that I am the best teacher who ever lived. If you ask me, he is the best video editing missionary on earth. But deeper than that, we know and love and respect one another's hearts. I know that Marc's heart is deeply in love with his Savior. He knows that my heart is focused on how to serve the God I love in the best way possible. I can trust him, because I know his heart and I have a great respect for who he is in his soul. 
• Learn to rely on one another. In God's great goodness to us, He made us completely different people. I am practical and organized and frankly, not very creative. Marc is creative and a big, big dreamer, but the least organized person I've ever known. When we faced those truths about ourselves, we learned to rely on each other's strengths. I am never going to be the person who can picture or visualize something, but I can make a budget and stick to it. He is never going to be organized or have a straightened desk, but he is the person to whom God gives big dreams. We would have never left our old lives for this one without his dreams, and we would not be able to stay without my organization. We both bring something necessary to this life. 
• It's the little stuff. His favorite meal when he comes home from traveling. Sunflowers to surprise me on a rainy day. A nice note on a facebook wall. It's the little kindnesses much more than the grand gestures that make marriage so sweet. In a related note--about five years ago, we banned the snippy, ugly sarcasm about one another. No ugly comments and then a 'just kidding.' Can I suggest that kind of sarcasm has no place in any relationship? It has done wonders for our relationship and our relationship with our kids to drop that stuff from our repertoire.
• Spend time alone. The daily details of life have a way of working their way in and strangling any romance out of a relationship. Kids and sicknesses and verb conjugations and deadline pressures and financial strain don't add up to sweet, romantic feelings most of the time. And we're not dependent on feelings--this is a covenant, after all, not a chick flick--but we need to make sure we cultivate every area of our marriage in order to make it rock solid and strong. For us, time together, sitting in our favorite cafe, drinking strong Viennese coffee gives us time to remember that we're not just roommates raising children together. And by the way--some day it's going to be just the two of us. I want to make sure we aren't strangers when the kids are gone.
• Praise God, loudly and often, for each other. Marc is God's most incredible gift outside salvation to me. He is the biggest surprise of my life--I never really thought I'd get married and have kids--and the best one. He is funny and fun, and he makes me a better person. (He has this look--it involves an eyebrow--that lets me know when I'm being particularly snarky.) He loves me more than I deserve on a daily basis. I could not be more grateful for him, and I want to make sure he knows it.

Make sure that you hear me clearly, my friends--ours is not a perfect marriage, by any stretch of the imagination. However, it is a very happy one, one that builds the other up, one that makes difficult times bearable and happy times that much sweeter. It is a great privilege to serve God together, to watch each other grow in our understanding of who God is and how He works. It is the hardest thing I've ever done, harder than learning Russian or German, harder than leaving my parents to come here, harder than having Sarah Beth so far away. But it's the best part of my life, this longstanding love affair. It is a tangible way in which, daily, God shows His immense love for me. I am one blessed girl. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your marriage is a source of strength and happiness for you, too, and that your back and knee are not hurting this morning. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

For my 15-year-old daughter, her friends, and every 15-year-old girl ever

These two...well, they're kind of a mess, but hilarious together. It's good to have friends for a long time.

Han and her pals from ICSV at their formal in May. They are also a mess. :)

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. Ephesians 2:10

I have a few minutes before I have to exercise and shower before my German lesson. (For those of you on Facebook with me, you'll be glad to know that I did get my homework done. It took most of last night, but I got it done.) This particular topic is one I've really been thinking about, especially as I really watch Han and her friends grow and mature and struggle with what that's going to look like for them. Of course, perspective is everything, isn't it? I've already raised one daughter to adulthood, and she turned out pretty ok. :) (That's her life verse, by the way. You, SB, are definitely God's workmanship.) And I'm missing an important picture up there, one of Han and her best friend from home, Maddy. So Mads, you'll have to forgive me, but you know I'm technologically challenged, and I don't know how to get pictures off Han's facebook to put on here. But that should definitely be the third picture.

It's a privilege, isn't it, to watch people grow up? Some of the girls in her life have been a part of Han's world for a really long time, and to watch them mature and grow, both as young women and as Christians...what an awesome thing to get to do. Of course, we also love her friends from school, sweet girls who make our lives in Vienna so fun and interesting. It's also interesting to watch their struggles--some familiar, some not--from the perspective of my...many years, let's say. (Keep your comments to yourself. I can hear them from Austria!) Some things never change, and there are definitely things I've learned over time that I wish my 15-year-old self had known all those years ago.

God really does have a plan. Seriously, He does. And it's way, way better than you can imagine. I never in a million years pictured myself living in Russia or Czech Republic (Czechoslovakia when I was 15) or Austria...and I didn't really picture myself with a husband and children. But those things were in God's plan for me, and they are far superior to the life I dreamed up myself.

It isn't all about me, after all. And that's a great thing. All those years of cleaning and folding laundry and changing diapers (ok, Marc did most of the diaper changing) and packing lunches and planning meals...never wasted. Neither was any kindness I did when prompted by the Lord. Building churches, teaching Sunday School, teaching English, spending time thinking and praying for others rather than myself...the best moments of my life, moments I've never, ever regretted. Those things have made me tired, they've challenged me, they've sometimes stretched me to the point I thought I would break, but they have been the happiest, most fulfilling moments of my life. Being a wife and a mom and a teacher and a worker overseas...I wouldn't trade it for all the gold in...wherever they keep the gold. Fort Knox? Is that right?

If he's supposed to show up, he'll show up. And when he does, you'll know. Not everybody gets married. Some people are single. So I'm not promising your forever guy is out there, because I don't know God's plan for your life. But if he is out there, you'll know it. Maybe not when he walks in the room, but when it's time to know, you'll know. And just like God's plan for your life is better than your plan for your life, what you think is important in a man is going to pale in comparison to the enormous blessing of spending your life with God's perfect man for you. Marriage is super hard, but it's also the most fun I've ever had. But it's fun because I waited for God's guy. And it turns out, He definitely knew what I needed more than I did.

Be the lunker. This is advice I'm stealing from Hannah's youth pastor in Florida. He told her the thing his dad told him: to catch the lunker (I don't know--some kind of fish), you have to have the right bait. The same goes for relationships. He had her make a list of what she knew she wanted in a guy--heart for God, missions/ministry oriented, kind, fun, etc.--and then he told her to work on becoming the woman that guy would want to marry. In other words, girls, stop worrying about who you're going to date. Stop going from guy to guy. Spend some time concentrating on the person God created you to be. At 15, that's way more important than dating somebody right now.

You're God's workmanship, so act like it. Don't pollute your mind and body with the junk this world says is important. Act like somebody who knows she is loved and adored by the King of kings. Because you, my friend, are the design of God. He loves you right now, just like you are. He does not care if you have an acne breakout or braces or whatever thing you feel bad about yourself today. That will pass, but His love never fails. So make sure you are acting like someone who knows her place in the kingdom.

Don't settle. In any area of your life. Prayerfully make goals for yourself, and then work to achieve them. Whether it's school or boys or music...no matter what area of your life...don't settle just because it's convenient. Know how you want to be treated, and then don't make excuses for the boys who don't treat you that way. Insist on being treated with kindness, with respect. And when you're not, walk away.

Fifteen is a moment in time. It'll pass. Sometimes, it feels like 15 is going to be forever. But it's not. It's high school, which is often rotten and full of terrible people, but it passes. And the great news is that those people who were jerks at 15 often grow up to be perfectly nice people. Because just like you are not yet the person you're going to be, neither is anybody else. So cut everybody, including yourself, some slack. Treat others with the grace you want, too. Because, thankfully, you're all going to grow up. Hopefully. :)

I wouldn't go back to being 15 for anything. It was an awkward age for me. I wasn't very sure of myself, and I often made huge mistakes, especially in relationships. I was just a gangly mess most of the time. But I grew out of it. Or maybe I didn't, but God was kind and allowed me to have a great life, anyway. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that your life has only gotten better with time, and that you got all your German homework done, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

One year in Vienna

Hannah with her sweet friend, Emily--deep friendships are one of the perks of our life overseas. We love these girls so much!

Tash is kind of a basket case. Get it? BASKET case? Oh, how I love a good pun.

John with Uncle Don (who is showing him a cool card trick)--another bonus of our life overseas is the aunts and uncles who invest in my kids' lives. 

Not to us, O LORD, not to us, but to Your name give glory because of Your lovingkindness, because of Your truth. Psalm 115:1

Well, my friends, it's a momentous day in the Hooks' house today--it's our one-year anniversary in Vienna. Our flight arrived around noon, and we were met by a contingency of people at the airport and in our flat. It was, indeed, a team effort to get us from the airport here. :) There were hugs and lots of laughing, some exhausted kids, a game of pick up basketball, I think...the day itself is a bit of a blur. I can remember my friend, Tina, and I searching our suitcases for sheets. On top of our one year anniversary in Vienna, this week marks five years since we arrived overseas, when our little troop of five arrived in Moscow, Russia. Can you believe that? Five years?!?!?! Where has the time gone?

If you know me or follow this blog, you can imagine that I spent the week thinking about who I was a year ago (and five years ago), and who I am now. I'm definitely not who I was, nor will I be the same person a year from now. The life of faith is definitely an ongoing journey, ever-changing, pushing us to grow and adapt to whatever this path has for us. Of course, I thought about all this amidst a week full of work on Engage Sochi with our partners from Sochi, so this might not be as comprehensive a list as possible, but here are some things I've learned from my time overseas.

• God is way bigger than I can think or imagine. I have had a five year front-row seat for the work of the God of everything. To say that I stand amazed in the presence is an understatement. My sense of awe at who He is and how He works has exploded. Some things, my friends, are not explainable by anything other than His hand. Some things are not logical or practical. A perfect example: Marc got out the proposal he wrote for Engage Sochi right after the Vancouver Olympic games. As he was perusing it (he hadn't looked at it in a while), almost everything in his "dream" proposal has come true, and the rest is on the way to coming true. Nothing in that proposal, which he considered at the time completely outlandish, looks undoable. Not for us, not because of us, not because of anything but the hand of Almighty God. When you are allowed the opportunity to see that kind of work firsthand, your perspective of who He is cannot remain the same. 
• There is value in suffering. My friends in Eastern Europe are snickering, because suffering is definitely a theological theme there. But as I look at my life, at my own heart, at the hearts of my family...an easy life with a white picket fence did not produce empathy and compassion and kindness in us. I have watched Hannah weep at the dinner table over lost friends. The person who has that kind of heart is the person God has refined. And you know what? Refining is an ugly, painful, terrible process. But nothing produces godly character like refining. Suffering over time has made us dependent on God, on what He can do that we cannot. It has allowed us to say perhaps the most important thing we've ever said to our children: I do not know if it will be ok. I cannot promise that. But I know for sure and for certain that God knows, that He cares, that He is in charge, and that we are not alone. If my children learn nothing else from their time overseas (and the things they have learned certainly could fill a few blogs), if they get nothing out of this experience except that God loves them and cares about their lives and is in control...then our time here will have been well-spent. And nothing in our lives has produced that knowledge like suffering. 
• Real friendships and relationships are gifts from God. Our time overseas has produced the closest friendships we have ever known. Not do-you-want-to-go-to-Roadhouse-for-lunch friendships (although there is nothing wrong with those at all!), but deep, cry-out-to-God-on-behalf-of friendships. Love-each-other's-children-like-your-own friendships. (I'll stop with the dashes. Sorry.) We have deep, deep friendships with some of our colleagues, and they are treasures. To be called Uncle Marc and Aunt Kellye is high on my list of things I love about my life overseas. To have people I love and admire be uncle and aunt to my children--incredible blessings. Half of my time at AGM in Greece this summer was spent catching people up on Sarah Beth (we decided we needed t-shirts that read, "Yes, we like him a lot. Yes, we think he's the one." on them, just because so many people asked about her boyfriend) and catching up on all of our kids across the world. Amazing, amazing, amazing to be allowed to love people like that. 
• This life takes an entire family. I have heard so many tales of people overseas whose parents and family are not supportive. Or maybe they just don't get it. Marc and I have not experienced even a second of that. Our families have been incredibly supportive, have sent packages, gifts, money, and cards, have called, have emailed, and most of all, have prayed. What a legacy of faith for my kids. This little venture, this business of a life somewhere that is not my own, has been made immeasurably better and more doable by the support of my family and Marc's. I've said it before and I'm sure I'll say it again: when we leave, they stand at the airport and wave goodbye. Neither side of that is easy. But to see the faithfulness of our families to send us off, even when it hurts and they miss us...amazing. A gift we could not have experienced in any other life.
• I don't know it all, nor am I the smartest person in the room. And it doesn't matter which room it is, my friends. I am not the smartest person there. After years of being an expert in my field, I held a pretty high opinion of my own intellect. Then I went to Russia and had to learn Russian. Then I went to Czech Republic and couldn't even begin to learn Czech. Then I went to Austria and had to learn German. If that won't humble a person, I'm not sure what will. And I think it's interesting that God chose my own personal pride point--my ability with words--as the place to humble me most. OUCH. It hurt. It really did. I hated speaking Russian like a five-year-old. I hate making language mistakes. But now, I have the ability to laugh at myself, to giggle with the lady at the grocery store when I say something silly, to not get my hackles up when the pastor at church corrects my grammar (wo SIND die Kinder, not wo IST die Kinder)...to know that I am responsible for doing the best I can do in any given situation, whether it's language learning or handling a difficult relationship or figuring out how to stretch our money as far as it will go, but the rest is up to God. 
• I don't have to be happy to be content and joyful. I was unhappy in Moscow for quite a while. Vienna hasn't been a piece of cake, either. But to allow circumstances to rob me of contentment in what God is doing is a sin. It's one I really struggle with, friends. This is an area where God is still really knocking me around and chiseling some yucky stuff away. He's doing it now, even while I write this. He'll probably still be doing it when I take my last breath. To throw away bitterness, to be less critical of people...it's the cry of my heart, because it's something I struggle with on a daily basis. Given half a chance, my heart clings to every bad thing anyone (ever, in the history of mankind) has done, said, or thought in my direction. It is a fault of mine, maybe my biggest. To let things go does not come naturally to me. But every single day, God is faithful to answer my prayer for help and guidance in letting things go. And you know what? I'm really content with my life right now. I'm getting to see Him really do some stuff in our lives, in this amazing city, in our relationships--because He is faithful to answer that prayer for contentment no matter what, for joy no matter what. If we spend the rest of our career in Vienna, I'm okay with that. If He does something else with us, I'm okay with that. (It'd be nice if German was the last language we learn. I'm just putting it out there.) But only God can make it possible for me to say that, because on my own...well, it's not pretty what I'd be like on my own. Think a combination of Medusa and that old lady from the Hallmark cards, the one who walks around in her robe and is super cranky. Yep. That's pretty much who I am on my own.
• It's all about Him. Oh, friends. I'll sing it with my dying breath. He is faithful and righteous and holy, and His goodness and lovingkindness overwhelm my life. I am never alone. No night is so dark that He is not there. No day is so bright that He cannot be seen. He loves me, He loves you, He loves this amazing city in which I live, He loves Moscow, He loves the world...more than I am capable of understanding. His love reaches to the heavens and His faithfulness stretches to the skies. There is no pit He cannot drag me out of, and there is no height I can reach that would make Him love me more. In all my yucky, weird, quirky wonder--He loves me. He pursues me. He gave me Marc, Sarah Beth, Hannah and John; He gave me Kay and Cathy, Momma and Daddy...all those people on the fields of the world who love me and are loved by me...all gifts from the Giver of all good things. I am daily overwhelmed and awestruck and humbled by who He is. He has invited me on this adventure with Him not because I am particularly worthy, but because in the least worthy person His glory is best displayed. I am a broken jar of clay loved and adored by the Creator of the Universe. I will never, never, never get over it. 

These are just a few of the long list of things I've learned over the last five years. If you have read this blog over some or all of that time, thank you for taking this journey with me. It is such an honor and privilege to have the chance to tell people about what God is doing here and around the world, to talk about my little family, to ask you to pray for us and with us for the people of Europe. I am just a nerdy bookworm from Middleburg, Florida, and the fact that anybody cares to read my ramblings always kind of amazes me. So--thanks for that. Wherever you are in the world, I challenge you to sit down and think about what you've learned in the last five years, and I pray that your heart is as thankful as mine is today. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Finding peace...and being grateful

Out on the town with my Han last night--it was chilly!

Tash can sometimes make it difficult to have my quiet time. Her great love for my prayer journal overwhelms her some mornings.

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7


It is cloudy and chilly this morning in Vienna...and I am not complaining! I love fall days that are a bit overcast, a little chilly and windy. Of course, there are colder days to come, perhaps very cold and icy and snowy, but I'm not thinking about those days this morning. I'm enjoying the onset of fall, my very favorite season in Europe. It's really so lovely here. Han and I had a night out last night, and as we were in a park near the center of the city, we noticed that the leaves are starting to change. Just gorgeous. It's the one thing about Florida I didn't love--the lack of real seasons. Oh, there is some cooler air in the winter, but I went whole years without ever putting on a coat. I like coats and scarves and all that stuff. And I really like not having to sweat to death in my own home. I like that a lot!

I have no deep reason to write today--just a general sense of catching up on what's going on here. This is kind of a season of things just rolling along. Language is a huge part of our lives, of course, as we have gone back into language learning. I have to say that I feel very encouraged about how well that is going. We have a tutor who comes to our home, and we love her. She is one of the best teachers I have ever had for any subject. Sometimes, language learning feels like one tiny step forward and fifteen giant steps backward. I don't feel that way right now. I have a real sense of forward movement in our German, and I know that Marc does, too. It doesn't mean we do everything perfectly, because clearly that's not true, nor that we understand everything said to us, because that's not true, either. But more and more, even if I can't quote you the rule, I know intuitively that something is said a particular way. Marc is an intuitive language learner. He knows how it's supposed to sound. He was that way in Russian, and he's that way in German. I never, never felt that way about Russian. Except for a few phrases I said constantly, I had to think my way through every sentence separately to figure out how to say something. And though German has really strict rules about verb placement, and they differ depending on what you're saying, more and more that makes sense to me. I'm translating less into English and more just thinking in German. I can't tell you how encouraging that is. Language learning is just beastly. And learning our third language (English is our first, in case you're wondering) is more difficult than we assumed. But there is definitely forward movement. And I'm so, so grateful for that.

I wrote last that my Daddy was having some medical problems. The surgeon's visit this week was a bit of a mixed bag of good news and really not good news. That's my parents' story to tell, not mine, but suffice to say that I started looking at tickets home after I got off the phone with my parents. But oddly enough, I'm not worried. I'm concerned, of course. I want desperately for my Daddy to be fine, to be perfectly healthy. But that's not the case. At first, of course, I was pretty much a weepy mess. In fact, I told a precious friend the next day after the surgeon's visit that I simply could not pray aloud for her when we were paired at a meeting, for fear of being a weepy disaster, something I prefer not to do if at all possible. I'm grateful for those friends, aren't you? The ones you can just be 100% open and honest with. (She, by the way, went on to pray something really beautiful and gorgeous over me...I literally felt the calm and peace just sweep over my soul.) And a year after coming to Vienna, I can look around and say that I really have several of those kinds of friendships here. I have taken some time this week to be grateful for those women here who I feel completely at ease and open with. A year ago, I felt like that would not happen here. I was so homesick for my Russian friends. And I still miss them, of course, but I'm also really grateful for the friendships God has provided right here--women who are really a treasure in my life. If you are one of those women...thanks so much.

So we continue to forge ahead, taking the bad news as well as possible, and making time to be intentionally thankful and grateful for the way our God has really provided so much encouragement to us lately. Sarah Beth is happy and healthy and in love. John loves middle school and is playing soccer on the school team. Hannah loves her voice lessons, and even said to me the other day, "I'm really content with my life in Vienna. I wouldn't want to live anywhere else." (If you know Han's history here, you know that's a HUGE statement, and certainly a testimony to what the love and care and planning of some adults at her school has done for her life.)  Our lives are not untouched by the yuckiness of life, the stuff that everyone has to deal with. And we're not immune to the annoyances of daily life, for sure. (Please let the campaign season be over quickly, Lord. PLEASE!!!) But there really is a peace that passes understanding, a sense of gratefulness for the thousands of blessings that just cover our lives. Of course, we're praying like crazy for Daddy and Momma, for the doctors, for wisdom, for my sisters and I to know what to do and when...but that prayer isn't frantic or panicked. My parents have served our Jesus their whole lives. He isn't going to leave or forsake them any more than He is going to leave or forsake us. Surely in the midst of a bad situation, that is really good news.

I have so much to get done today, and I have my list all prepared. Plus, it's Saturday, and that means somewhere in the course of my day, our flat will smell like Marc's chili, and that's a great thing. (Our next door neighbors are from Nepal, and I don't know what she made yesterday for lunch, but it was the best-smelling stuff ever. I almost went over and asked for a bite.) We will have guests next week, and that will be fun. So lots to look forward to--always a good thing. Wherever you are in the world, and whatever situation you find yourself in, know that the peace that passes all understanding is available to you, too. And go Gators!! Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye