Last Christmas in Vienna
This is our last Christmas in Vienna.
There - I said it.
It's not been a secret; we've just not made it public. But after what has been over a year-long process of praying, being quiet, being loud, asking questions, seeking advice, we've come to a decision: we are moving back to Norman, OK the end of June 2018. Part of the motivation for the move is a place called Fahrenheit House which I will elaborate on later, but let there be no mistake, Fahrenheit continues. Real, life mentoring is what we do ... we'll just be doing it from another address. God has given us partners in our beloved Austria to continue and further develop Fahrenheit as we further develop Fahrenheit all over the world from a home base in Oklahoma.
This makes our last Christmas in Vienna ... unique.
I'm not trying to fit into our holiday schedule those things that we will "never be able to do again." I'm not savoring every moment through tear-stained eyes nor am I tucking moments into my heart for future reflection. I'm not eating one last seasonal, yummy, goodie from a Christmas market knowing this will be the last year for such confectionary delights. I'm not taking pictures like a mad woman for future viewing. And I'm not fast-forwarding into the future to a Christmas that will be celebrated in a new place that will be our new home.
Call it edging toward maturity, call it growth, call it seeing the bright side, call it insanity ... you can call it whatever you like but for me, this is a season of stillness.
noun
"the still of the night"
synonyms: quietness, quiet, quietude, silence, stillness, hush, soundlessness, noiselessness;More
"film stills
Oddly enough, there is a deep stillness in the parts of me that usually react to stress by over organizing, over thinking, over analyzing, over everything!
According to the second definition of the noun "Still", I am experiencing single shots of time, as in single shots from a beautiful movie, of our last Christmas in Vienna. There may be more Christmases in which my booted feet will walk these cobbled streets during the month of December, but this year there is a stillness that overrides the current and trumps any worries of the future.
Part of our vision for Fahrenheit is to have a place called Fahrenheit House. Through numerous personal moments with God, my Chris and I have independently envisioned a place were weary travelers in life can find a place a refuge - a place of stillness - to come and hear God, sleep, read, get counsel, get great coffee and recharge for the purposes in life for which God has called them. Part of our new chapter in a new place would be to have such a house. We have a place in mind: an old, historical home in Norman, OK. I dream of this house. I see myself in this house. I see others hearing God in this place.
It is fitting during the Christmas season to envision Fahrenheit House. 2018 years ago, a young couple in an overcrowded city that was not their home needed a place to lay their tired heads. They needed a practical place to birth a child. They needed the tender kindness of homeowners to bring hot tea to a bedside. They needed to hear gentle whispers that everything was going to be OK. They needed to be reassured by older, experienced parents that childrearing would be a journey and one in which they would succeed. They needed to be encouraged, refreshed and reminded of God's promises as they made their way back home to start a new life. This, at its core, is what God has given us a vision.
There will be more entries on specifics of an impending move. But for now, these precious days before Christmas, I remain still.
Come, let us adore Him,
Christina
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