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

Being thankful...for a good book

This is the picture sitting on my desktop this morning. She's a keeper, for sure. :)

Glory to thee for all the grace
I have not tasted yet. --Charles Spurgeon

It's not been a great week. Wow. It's only Tuesday. Well, it's been a rough couple of days. How's that? Not one thing in particular--just a high stress level caused by many different things going on in our lives, both here in Vienna and back home in Florida. We've gotten a diagnosis for my Dad, but the first surgery (for his kidney) is looking like a much more major surgery than we'd originally hoped for because of the position of the tumor on his kidney. So that wasn't a plus. And he still feels so awful, which I cannot stand. Sarah Beth is in the middle of finals. Marc and I are getting ready for our German exam this Saturday, amidst a flood of other deadlines. And I had a little accident on Sunday that is causing pain and even less sleep than usual. (Note to self: sunburn + hot, steamy bath + fainting = large, painful egg on the back of my head.) We'll be fine...just a bit discouraged at the moment. Okay, maybe a lot discouraged at the moment. But we really will be fine. We serve a big God, right? If He is for us, who (or what) can be against us? :)

So I've been thinking about all the things and people God uses to encourage me during times like this--just being thankful and grateful for His new mercies each day. And there are a lot of things I could list here--dear, sweet friends who always are faithful to pray, sweet friendships that are developing with nationals here, the view off my balcony as the sun comes up, an apartment full of sunshine and light, even on cloudy days...you get the idea. Lots of stuff. But one of God's greatest gifts to me, one for which I am SO thankful right now, is my deep love affair with books.

It all started for me in the living room of my Aunt Angie and Uncle Raleigh's house in Doctor's Inlet, Florida, where I would visit in the summer as a child. It was lined on one wall with bookshelves. And I could read anything I wanted. I had books at home, of course, but there was something truly wonderful about a lazy, too-hot-to-be-outside Florida afternoon, sitting in that room and reading for hours. It was there I first discovered the wonder of true crime writing. (Yep, still love them. I have basically read every Ann Rule book in print.) I found that I loved mysteries (I've read every Mary Higgins Clark book) and history (I just finished a great bit of history this morning). In fact, I found that I basically loved everything I could get my hands on. (One thing I don't love--fantasy. Yuck. Not my cup of tea. I've never read all of Lord of the Rings or made it through one of the movies without falling asleep. Sorry. I just don't get it.) What I found during those wonderful summer afternoons spent reading was that books made great, wonderful companions and transported me to places and worlds that I could not have even dreamed of in my wildest fantasy. Pardon the pun, but I was hooked.

I went on, of course, to be an English teacher, spending my days teaching the books I loved so much. One of my favorite book memories is from early in my career, when I was teaching in a rural high school in Georgia. We didn't have enough copies of To Kill a Mockingbird for each student, and we could not ask students to buy them or buy more ourselves, so I ended up reading the whole book aloud to my classes. I even brought in a rocking chair to sit in while I read, and they often ended up sitting at my feet on the floor, just listening to the story. When we got to the part where Tom Robinson has been killed, one of my students yelled, "NO!!" Nobody laughed. Nobody made fun of her. We just kept reading. It was a meaningful moment for me and for the kids--certainly, that particular book made a great deal of sense to them, since it was written about a culture they knew and understood all too well. I went on to have other meaningful moments with books, but that one always sticks out in my mind as a defining moment in my teaching career.

I read constantly. I have at least one book "going" all the time. Sometimes I'm reading an actual book, but more often than not, I'm reading on my Kindle app or my Nook. As I get older, I tend to like nonfiction more than fiction, and I have an ever-growing appreciation for the classics I've loved for most of my adult life. I'm not always reading a classic or something meaningful, though. Sometimes (don't tell anyone, ok?) I just read for fun. I read to escape. I read because it makes me feel better about whatever thing I'm going through at the moment.

So what does that have to do with the discouragement we currently feel? Because books are a way for me to relieve tension and escape, and because they are salve to my introverted soul, they encourage me. They make me laugh or cry. They make me think. They help me to know and understand places and people better. I loved Russian literature long before I dreamed of living in Russia. (Dostoevsky is my favorite, in case you're wondering.) Reading about Austrian history, especially the history of Vienna, has helped me to have an appreciation for this place that God has us for this season. And sometimes, I just need to think about something else. Something that isn't this moment. I believe God created me to love books so that I would always have a way to turn my brain off and do something else, to remove myself from the stress of this moment so that I can refocus somewhere else. And at this moment, when I'm a teeny bit overwhelmed...I'm so, so grateful for that.

Maybe you think this is a crazy post, that I love books because I do. But God's Word clearly says that He is the Giver of all good gifts...and for me, books are a very good gift. So I choose to be thankful for them and for the stress relief they so often provide. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are grateful for whatever escape God has provided for you, and that your kids have the day off school, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Those who wait...

Are you tired of pics of my cats? Because I have an endless supply. This is Tash being cute, as usual.

I love this!! I don't know if you can see him behind the flowers, but this is our pal, Jack, giving Han flowers after the musical. If you've been with us awhile, you'll remember that Jack was 3-months-old when we lived in the same quad as his parents at our training in Richmond. Now, Hannah is his babysitter. Love it!!

 

Wait for the LORD; be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the LORD. Psalm 27:14

I generally avoid things at which I'm terrible. For example, I don't bowl. Why? I'm atrocious at bowling. TERRIBLE. So I just don't bowl. There are other things I don't do, too...ballroom dancing, for example. Or exercising in front of people with any kind of exercise that requires me to do more than put one foot in front of the other. (Get the idea? I'm not very coordinated.) I also avoid doing math without a calculator. Not good at it, so I don't do it.

But there are some things I'm not good at that I can't avoid. Waiting is one of those things. It seems like the last two years have been all about waiting. We had to wait to know where we were going. Then we had to wait to be approved by the trustees and doctors. Then we had to wait to get here. Then we had to wait to settle in and get through transition. In other words--just like every other person on earth--waiting is a big part of my life. And I'm truly terrible at it.

There are some things I'm waiting on right now that are uncomfortable to me. I am waiting to really learn German. Now, that's not a docile, passive waiting--I practice, I study, I talk to people every day. But in preparation for an exam we have coming up, I decided to take an online German placement exam. I got 8/30 right, and was placed as a beginner. I cried. I'm not kidding. I had a meltdown. I'll never learn German. I'll never speak it. I'm probably not going to pass the exam. It was a pretty big pity party, I'm not going to lie. But you know what? I am a beginner. Just because I can put a sentence together correctly doesn't mean I'm not a beginner. (I can hold a pretty good conversation with anyone under 4, as long as it's mostly about food.) I must give myself time to really learn. I'm not 20, and this is my third language. It'll come. It'll happen. But I have to wait patiently.

We are waiting to really figure out our place here in Vienna and on our team. There has been lots of transition for our team, and it continues. I want it done now. Maybe yesterday. I want to know what ministry is going to look like. In fact, if you could work out our ten-year-plan and just give me the outline so I can write it in my calendar (one of THREE I keep on my desk), then that would be super. But that's not how it works, is it? Nope. Transition will happen, we will settle in, we will find our place in this city and on our team...but these things take time. I have to wait.

The granddaddy of "waiting" situations in our lives has been the last six weeks with my Dad's health. I have not talked publicly much about this (until it was resolved), and I haven't even really talked much privately about this. In fact, very few people have known how sick my Daddy is and has been. We have been waiting for a diagnosis for weeks of what is causing him to be so ill. And it's been torture. Not just hard. Torture. My sisters are in Dallas and Indianapolis. I'm in AUSTRIA, for heaven's sake. So in my heart, I've pictured my sweet parents, all alone in Florida, with my Dad getting sicker and sicker and sicker...let's just say my normal trouble with sleeping has been magnified a bit in the last six weeks.  And the symptoms--and even comments from the doctor--led us to expect the worst. (I think even the doctor thought it was cancer.) I had a complete meltdown one night at about 1am, and had to go downstairs and plan my trip back to Middleburg. I simply could not, under any circumstances, sit in Vienna, Austria, while my Daddy was sick in Florida. I couldn't. Impossible. Yet, that's exactly what I did, and what my sisters did, as we waited.

If you're on facebook with me, you know that we got the diagnosis yesterday--something with a big long name that is basically a mass that is wrapped around Daddy's left kidney. And while he still feels terrible and is really sick, it's something that can be fixed. It's not cancer. It's not get-yourself-home-to-Middleburg-asap time. There are surgeries at hand, things to be done...but there is a positive outcome at the end of this tunnel unless something really unexpected happens. And we're so thankful, and so grateful. Many, many tears of joy have been shed in the last 24 hours, and I'm sure those weren't just here in Vienna.

I'm not just thankful, though, for a more positive outcome than any of us expected. I'm thankful, as weird as it sounds, for the waiting in my life right now. Not just in this situation, but in a lot of situations. Waiting gives me the chance to reflect on God's faithfulness, in the dark times and in the happy times. When this all started, and we realized something was really wrong with my Dad, I made a covenant with God in my prayer journal, one I asked Him to hold me accountable to--that I would praise Him no matter what the outcome. Good news, bad news, in between news...it's all about Him. And I don't think it's coincidence that this week, which has been by far the hardest as we knew a diagnosis was coming, was a traveling week for Marc, one in which I've had very little contact with him. No relying on Marc to bolster me. No relying on friends to carry me through. Nope. Me and God. And it hasn't been a terrible week. I've stuck pretty close to home as we waited for the diagnosis (and as my Dad felt worse and worse), but it's been a pretty good week, if a quiet one. I've gotten some things done. I've studied German. I've done some cleaning. And I've spent some significant time relying on the One who loves me--and you--and my Daddy best.

Time to get the day started. Well, of course, my day actually started around 4, when Tasha came and stood on my chest and licked my face. What kind of cat licks your face?!?! Oh, well...at least she's a sweet, affectionate pet, right?! Wherever you are in the world, and whatever you're waiting on, I pray that you are relying on Him alone, and that you are having a "Mom-learns-to-play-Sonic" night at your house, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye

Who is this King of Glory?

No trip anywhere in Wien is complete without some ice cream. Seriously...it's dangerously good. (And yes, John does have some on the tip of his nose. :)

Our family is hooked on the audio guide. This was on our trip to the Mozarthaus here in Wien.

For Spring Break, they got to choose some stuff they wanted to do in our city. The Mozarthaus was John's choice. He is going through a Mozart phase. Seriously--he's Mozart crazy right now!!

Who is the King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. Psalm 24: 8

Sometimes, a perfect storm occurs, and it makes it impossible for me to do anything but write about a particular topic. This is one of those times. My book of the Bible for 2012 (the one I'm reading and studying my way through) is Psalms, and I just made it to chapter 24. (Yes, I DID start on January 1st. I'm thorough.) I'm also studying the gospels, beginning with Matthew. (Yes, I DID start that way back in October. I'm very thorough.) And last night, at our church's Good Friday service, I sang an old song I haven't sung in years--Lamb of God by Twila Paris. This is a perfect storm for me, one in which everything around me is pointing to one thing (or in this case, one Person): Jesus. Who is this King of Glory? He's Jesus.

As part of my study of Matthew, I highlighted everything Matthew tells us about who Jesus is, what He thinks, how He acts. I've spent the last three days putting them in my journal during my quiet time, as a sort of reflection on God's greatest gift to us. It's too long a list to put on this blog--I counted this morning, and there are 81 sentences about who Jesus is. But I wanted to share the last part of the list with you on this Easter Saturday, as we all remember that time between His burial and His resurrection, that time when it must have seemed that all light and hope and love had left the world.

Jesus:

• weeps for Jerusalem.
• wants us to know the truth.
• calls the nations to Himself.
  
• knows the end of the story.
• is the end of the story.
• is coming in His glory to take His throne.
• cares for the least of these.
• loves to be lavishly adored.
• does not beat around the bush.
• knows we will fail often, but wants us to try anyway.
• knows the sting of betrayal.
• will come again.
• was denied and abandoned by His closest friends.
• is righteous.
• was beaten but did not utter a hateful word.
• died.
• was buried.
• rose from the dead.
• is always with us, no matter where in the world we go in His Name.

As I've put this list of who Jesus is in my journal, I have been overwhelmed by not only my love for Him, but His enormous love for me. He is the demonstration of God's love for the whole world. He's more than a great story. He's everything. The whole ballgame. But He's also a choice. You either follow Him or you don't, but He gives you the choice. There is no middle ground with Him. If anything became clear to me during this particular part of my study, it's that He's an all-or-nothing Savior, unimpressed by our good works and the things we say or do that we think are "righteous." He is righteousness. He is love. He is everything.

He is the reason I am here in Austria. I would love nothing more in the world at this moment than to be sitting with my parents in their living room in Middleburg, Florida, planning our Easter dinner together. But Jesus, the Lamb, the Holy, Righteous, Perfect Son of God died for me. Then He asked me nicely to follow Him to Austria. And for our family, that was no choice at all. We had to follow Him. I cannot imagine saying no to the One who gave His life for me. And not on the spur of the moment, not on a whim. He came to give His life for me. I love Him for so many things, for so many reasons, but I love Him most of all because He knew what His purpose was here. He knew all along. And He came, anyway, because He loved me and you that much. What kind of King does that for His people? My King. King Jesus.

Our Good Friday service was quite somber and for me, very moving. And while I loved singing with Hannah (one of God's kindnesses to me is the chance to sing with my girl), and I loved reading a portion of the story, the most moving thing for me, oddly, was lighting and blowing out the one candle that was lit in the room. I didn't say anything, and was surprised when, as I went to light the candle, the familiar words ran through my mind: Behold the Lamb of God, who came to take away the sins of the world. Then, when I blew out that one light, that one candle representing the Holy Lamb of God, I was struck by the way the darkness suddenly filled the room. I imagine that's how it seemed in Jerusalem that terrible, wonderful Good Friday. And maybe there are things in your life and your world that seem exactly that way--that darkness has filled every nook and cranny. The good news of Jesus is this: no matter how it may seem that darkness has won, that there is no hope, that all is lost...the sun dawns on Easter Sunday, the stone is rolled away, and the tomb, my friends, is empty. He is not here. He rose, just like He said. Hallelujah. Amen.

Wherever you are in the world, I pray that this will be a day to reflect on God's absolute love for you, and that your friends are coming for a visit this week, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye