Tomorrow we board another plane and return home.  A month has passed since landing in Vienna.  A month of re-acclimating to this city, a month of sweating like pigs due to a weird heatwave in Europe, a month of laughing so hard with old friends that I thought I wouldn't catch my breath, a month of seeing things within myself that I had to examine closely and search for a place of healing, a month of shedding tears out of empathy, exhaustion, and relived memories, a month of dealing with Oklahoma things from a Central Europe time zone, a month of hearing stories across from cafe tables while sipping coffee, a month of a lot of mental work, a month of a lot of walking, a month of meeting people, a month of talking to God about what the next steps are for Fahrenheit, a month of ... life.

Packing, yet another suitcase, I find myself feeling temporary.  I always feel like this when we travel.  Mostly because for the last five years, every summer brought packing of a suitcase to go to Oklahoma for the purpose of reconnecting with friends and family and to meet with Fahrenheit partners and donors.  For five years it's been a cycle of packing and unpacking.

This summer the cycle is reversed by location only.  However, this time I pack bags to return to Oklahoma and into another temporary home.  If I'm honest, it's been a year of temporary.  Trying to put roots in temporary soil is a weird feeling.  I'm ready to have my own space and my own things and my own zip code.

When I feel out of sorts, like there aren't others on the planet who can identify with my temporary condition of displacement, I need only to look at the message of the Bible that tells me feeling temporary should be a state of mind in whatever permanent place I am registered.  Feeling temporary because this planet was never created for me to put deep roots and plant myself for a stay that would last forever.  It's not my home. I know that intellectually but fail in comprehending the gravity of the temporary nature ... until I pack another suitcase.

Leaving Vienna and returning to Oklahoma makes me want to grieve.  Vienna feels more like home because this is the last place I had a home of my own.  Yet, I'm learning to live in a new space in my spirit that tells me adventure awaits.  God is always creating.  Sometimes that creation process looks like a new flower bursting out of messy soil that grows in a beautiful garden.  Sometimes, however, it's a deeper place of contentment within a human heart while waiting for a home to call your own while living on the planet.  It's looking at all God is doing around you and being content that He created me to firmly root myself in Him, knowing that He is my rock, my permanence, my home.  Where He puts me is good.  Where He calls home, even if for a month of living out of suitcase, is good.

So, we board another plane and head ... home.  Along with the tangible things I pack in my suitcase, I pack a month of moments that have reassured me that God is always good and creating and moving and working.

Yesterday international movers crammed nine years worth of living into 11 cubic meters.  If you've ever relocated, you know the experience.  It doesn't matter if your move has been local, intercontinental or international, the experience is the same.

• Sort through your personal belongings to see what needs to be trashed, given away or kept.
• Pack remaining items.
• Relocate, unpack and establish a new normal.

Emotionally, the process is the same.  There is a letting go.  There is separation from your old life to a new normal.  There is the reflecting on what was good, bad and average.  There is the closure of relationships that will inevitably change.  There is also an excitement about a new adventure.  There is the anticipation of what awaits.  There is the discovering of new places, things, and people.

Two roads.

The looking back and the looking forward.

As I sifted through old memory boxes which contained notes from nine-year-old daughters who are now nineteen, passport photos of a thirteen-year-old awkward teen who is now a twenty-three-year-old confident young woman, and the Mother's Day poems of a five- year old ragamuffin, black-haired baby who wouldn't comb her hair to a fourteen year old YouTube viewer of  every beauty tip tutorial ever made ... my heart soared to the heights of sweet, sweet moments that will forever be sealed in this Mamma's heart.  I downsized.  Instead of keeping every little note I kept only the top three.  I put them in a legal-sized envelope.  I packed it away.

I lay in bed thinking of my friends who've become such an integral part of my life.   I smile and cry and laugh.  They have experienced parts of my life that are sacred and wild.  No one else knows the journey like they do.  I have little to show for our travels in this section of life together by way of material things to be shoved in yet another legal-size envelope, but I tuck their precious hearts deeper into my own knowing time and distance is soon to come.

I travel this road of transition with a great number of others.  It doesn't take away the emotion is just puts it into perspective.

Many people have asked us why we are leaving and what will we be doing.  The answer is simple.  We know God has asked us to move.  We will be doing the same thing.  We run a nonprofit mentoring agency called Fahrenheit.  We equip mentors with tools to invest in the lives of others.  We train those who desire to be mentors.  We partner with other organizations who see mentoring as a viable outlet to invest in and build the character of others.  And we do it because it's our calling.  We desire to use our new zip code as a means to better develop financial supporters to help others in countries where mentoring is not a part of the culture.  We desire to influence our native countrymen to see a bigger vision for mentoring where they are ... in the good 'ole U.S.A.

Two roads.

The road that is leading us into emotional waters of closure while also bringing us into the exciting territory of discovery, we move forward.  We move forward because we've walked a long time with God.  He's done nothing but prove His faithfulness toward us.  He's never abandoned us to walk alone.  He's always shown us peace in the midst of transition.  He's a good Father.  And we hold his hand while letting go of others.

Two roads.

Fickle creature that I am can one day doubt the goodness of a good Creator/Father while the next become a warrior princess belting a victory cry over any and all things that dare take away my courage.  It's in princess warrior mode I make declarations that bolster weak faith and strengthen tired resolve to take the next step.

God surrounds us with demonstrations of His love:  music, a soft kiss on the forehead from a daughter, a social media post, a whispered prayer, an old note found between torn pages of a well-worn book, a private message from a dear friend.  These tangible ways shout out the quiet care of a strong Father.  He uses them - all of them - to inject our spirits with His truth.

David. Goliath.  One a shepherd boy with a stone and a sling and a strong belief in the commander of Heaven's Armies.  One a braggadocious giant with an attitude and way too much confidence in his physical prowess as a man of war.  No one supported David responding to the catcalls of this taunting warrior, Goliath.  Common sense ruled:  too small, too inexperienced, too dangerous an undertaking.  So why did David attack this enemy of the state of Isreal?  A momentary lapse of his senses?  Too much red bull?

Belief.  His belief in who God is and not who he was gave him all he needed to face his giant.  

Lesson noted.  What I believe about God when boxes are being packed, hard goodbyes are being whispered, and life being closed on one chapter dictates the victory in which I will attack my giants.  As a child of God, I am privy to the strength, wisdom, self-control, and faith that has been deposited in me through His Holy Spirit to push through the reality of facts and propel me into the victory of living abundantly right smack dab in the middle of life.

My giants come in the form of needs:  a house, cars, stuff.  The reality of my bank account, my ability to earn money, or my projected future income cannot be the thing that determines the giants I slay.  I can not listen to the voices around me, the doubting voices within me, or the voices of common sense to determine my outcome.  I've walked way too many years, holding the hand of my God, to see His work.  Never, ever, has He been predictable.  The only predictability in His character is his faithfulness.

Today, this princess warrior, shouts a victory battle cry.  I will depend on the one who owns the cattle on a thousand hills to do exceedingly more than I can think or ask.

David had a slingshot.
I have an imaginary crown.
Christina

After almost 30 years of walking with God, I still need to be reminded that God can be trusted.  He is a patient teacher.

As I continue to read about characters in the Bible, I am reminded of their failures and success.  They serve as signs on a highway that mark the road I am now traveling.  Saul, good King gone bad, had a hard time trusting God.  This morning I read how he was told one thing, yet did another.  His doing the other thing seemed like a good idea.  He conquered an enemy yet instead of destroying everything like He was told by God, he kept the good stuff.  Now the good stuff was going to be used to honor God - or that was the plan.  But keeping the good stuff wasn't what God told him.  It was disobedience.  It was lack of trust.

When I read this story, I was reminded that I often don't believe that God will give me better things in place of good things I am letting go of with reluctant hands.  As I pack up good things that I've put in my house over the last nine years, I'm tempted to think that better things will not come as a replacement.  Yet, God has always been faithful.  December 2008, when I packed up 13 suitcases of good things I brought with me from my home in Norman, OK, He replaced them all with better things.  So why the struggle?  Why the back-and-forth of core beliefs that God won't come through or be true to His Word?

I let logic, practical thinking, and short-sighted humanness interfere with the supernatural.  It just flat out doesn't make sense this way of following God.  He's always faithful.  He is edgy and makes me uncomfortable with the things He asks me to do ... but when I surrender ... it's always better than good.  Always.

I have a young friend with an amazing musical gift.  This morning after contemplating this wonderfully unpredictable yet faithful God I'm still learning to trust, I heard this: Lillies  Her beautiful text resounds with my own spirit.

Trust requires my faith in a faithful God to trump logic, defy my own tendency to know what is best, and fight my need to hold on to what is good for fear better will not arrive.  Yes, I must steward well that in which He has given.  However, letting go is really an act of surrender.  And surrender in God's economy is opening myself up for the better things.

Being taught lessons,
Christina

Because we are moving to the U.S. in a matter of weeks, questions have been generated.  By far, the most frequently asked question:  What will you miss the most? 

Think about your own life.  There is a rhythm.  There are things in your normal that has become innate, natural, part of who you are and what you do.  There are the big things in your life that demand attention like birthday parties or special events.  Yet, for the most part, life is usually most often marked by the normal.  The day-in-day-out routine that seems effortless until interrupted.  The dash living ... the living that takes place between the year of your birth and the year of your death.  If I live to be 90 years old, I will have celebrated only 90 Christmases.  Yet, in those 90 years, how many trips to the grocery store, routine errands or work days will have passed that were just part of my normal life?  Many.  Many days of ordinary that when taken into full account make up the sum of my living.

With Mother's Day being yesterday, I did a little reflecting on my days spent with my own mother, on my days of early motherhood, and the slipping of time through hands that are unaware of the speed at which time travels.  The little things are the most remembered:  the way my girls would say my name before they reached puberty, the way my Mom's lips would press together when cutting material for a dress she was making ... for me, the way Sunday afternoons drift by, the way mornings rush in a hectic flurry, the way nighttime feels when good nights are said.  These are the things that capture my attention when time is given to entertain the simple treasures of life.

Recently, a friend lost her 14-year-old son in a tragic boating accident.  Another friend has not seen her 3 children in over 9 months due to heartbreaking circumstances.  What each of them wouldn't give for another moment.  I am reminded to cherish days.

Life will never be perfect.  There will be people you wished lived closer.  There are pounds that you wish didn't sit in obvious places.  There are bills left unpaid.  There are struggles left to battle.  Yet ... it's the magic of the ordinary days when captured through the right perspective that makes each day precious.  All it takes is the foresight to recognize the moments as a gift given by a good Father who uses it all for our good and presents each challenge with a promise of His divine and miraculous presence.

What will I miss the most?  The ordinary days lived in my corner of the world.  I'll miss them.  Yet, I'll be grateful for having lived them.  I will be grateful they were lived well.  I will cherish them and not pine away for them.  There are new ordinary days to be lived in the next chapter.

Turning pages into more ordinary,
Christina

A few weeks ago, Chris attended church while we girls stayed home feeling poorly.  During the service, our pastors handed out stars.  They had previously and prayerfully collected words that they wrote on paper stars which were laminated and then passed out to the members of the congregation who were willing to take one.  There were no lightning bolts that magically appeared directing members to a star nor were there spotlights that shone on the star that was meant for you ... you just took one.  The prayer was that the word would have significance for you.  For my Chris, it did.  The word:  satisfaction.

As we capture our imaginations about what moving back to the U.S. looks like, it usually involves a sense of being dissatisfied.  On paper, when one has lived overseas in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, moving to the center of the Bible belt seems - no offense - a letdown.  Being rated among the best-rated cities for overall quality of life in the entire world - Vienna - Norman, Oklahoma seems like a far inferior place to put down roots.  I can say all of this because Norman is my home.

A feeling of being unsatisfied with the future - in our future "home" - in our future normal - has visited us too many times to count.  We've projected ourselves into the future, lacking proper coffee, places in which to sip it, and places in which to be left alone or visit for hours with another human while sipping it.

And then the word:  satisfaction.

Years ago, my dearest kindred spirit had a son who was sent to Iraq.  Months before his deployment, her imaginations were all over the place.  A mothers' heart in unrest plotting what "could" be before his feet ever traversed difficult soil.  Then, she got a word.  It wasn't on a laminated star.  It came from a place of quiet, in her spirit, from a loving God.  In a nano-second, she was at peace and satisfied with her reality and the reality of her son.  Her son would be just as safe in a foreign, hostile land as he would be in a local 7-11 in his hometown.  God was both places.  He would protect him ... no matter where he was.

Just as my friends' word brought her imaginations under submission to a greater force that reminded her of whom is really in charge of protection, our word has reminded us that God will be our satisfaction ... no matter where we are.  Coffee may taste different but it doesn't mean we will experience deficit because of our location.  The condition of the heart, in total obedience, is what sets the stage for satisfaction.  When I yield to the One who directs my paths and makes me lie down in really good, green, pastures, what I see with my eyes doesn't define me.  My zip code is not relevant.  Where my heart is ... is.

My zip code will change.  For that, I am - satisfied,
Christina

Plane tickets have been bought.  June 28, 2018, is our departure date.  Wow.  I've bought tickets coming and going "home" for over 9 years.  This is the first time I wept after hitting the pay button.

Going "home"/going "back" seems right.  However, it's packed with so much emotion it often leaks out of my eyes in the form of slow, salty tears and drips to my shirt and while bringing a reflective smile to my face.  I love my home - here.  I love my community - here.  I love my friends - here.  I love what we've carved out for ourselves and what God has brought in and out of our lives:

• Sunday afternoon walks through the city
• Sleepy cafe's that let you sit for hours
• Crowded public transportation filled with others who do not make eye contact
• Lugging a granny cart to the grocery store every other day
• Speaking German with a funny American accent
• Taking a bath in the winter because it's the only way to warm up
• Buying cut flowers on a regular basis because they are cheap
• Making espresso every day
• Wearing the same pair of boots every day in the winter 
• Wearing the same comfortable shoes every day in the Spring
• Kissing cheeks twice as a normal form of greeting
• Eating insanely thin pizza with ham and corn
• Grabbing coffee with parents from all over the world who send their kids to the same school my girls attend
• Traveling to other countries for volleyball tournaments
• Not speaking dialect because high German is all I know
• Eating the best sausage on the planet while standing outside the Wurstel Hut

I've started hunting for plane tickets for our summer return.  For the past three summers, I've  embarked on this routine: search for best prices, juggle calendars to determine the best departure and return dates, and book.  But this year, I'm selecting one-way journeys on my search engines.  The first time I clicked that little button (that is the second choice when conducting a search by the way), my heart quivered.  It's one thing to make a statement by faith.  It's another thing to take a step of faith.

We are not unique to taking steps of faith.  Millions upon millions of others have left home and country to start new lives in places that seem unfamiliar.  My goodness, we are in the "blessed" category!  We are not fleeing due to civil war, national crisis, or refugee status.  We are simply relocating back to a place we once called home.

Because we know we are stepping into unknown waters based on a directive from God that others have confirmed and affirmed, there is a certain amount of wonder in the whole process.  I'm not letting myself land in places that God has not promised.  I refuse to open that scary door in my imagination that lets fear, doubt, and "What are you thinking?" thoughts run in like a herd of wild horses.  God's done too much in our hearts and has given us too many promises to cheapen this experience by letting that junk creep in.

I love how Mary (the Mother of Jesus) - when told what plans God had for her - reacted.  How can this be?  It wasn't a statement of doubt that God would not be able to pull this off but rather an honest question of how the plan was going to unfold.  Her questions came with sweet answers from a caring Father.  I've got questions, too.

How are you going to provide, again, for establishing another household?  I will have no towels.  I will have no silverware. I can't even think about beds, couches, pots and pans.  What about cars?  We'll need cars.  And what about lamps?  Any kind of electric gadgit I have won't work with U.S. electric sockets.  Oh my word, I'm going to have to buy a wash machine, a dryer, a lawn mower.  God, how is this going to work out?

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

1. 1. 

   deep silence and calm; stillness.

   
   

   "the still of the night"

   
   

   synonyms:

   quietness, quiet, quietude, silence, stillness, hush, soundlessness, noiselessness;More
2. 2. 

   an ordinary static photograph as opposed to a motion picture, especially a single shot from a cinema film.

   
   

   "film stills

1. 
   

This week I purchased plane tickets.  This will be the first time we Elledge's will have stepped foot on American soil in over 4 years.  (OK, Chris had to go back for his Father's funeral for 8 days after we had been here only 9 months and 6 months later I went back to say final goodbye's to my Uncle.  Other than that, we've been camped out on European territory.)

I'm not sure how I feel about all of this.  Not just the going back but ... the being here ... the leaving here ... the returning "home" ... the coming back to here.  We live a certain lifestyle that is often odd.  In fact, so odd most people don't "get us".  Home can't be defined by the amount of time you've planted roots in a certain place.  The 4 years we've lived here we've lived in 2 different places.  I've learned that "home" isn't determined by the way others around you look, speak, act or think.

This week I also trimmed a plant.  NO big deal in the grand scheme of life, but this plant is very much like how I see my life.  This plant grows very fast.  If I don't trim it often, it grows out of control.  So, I snip little pieces of the newest growth, put my little "sniplings" into little vases of water giving them time to grow new roots and then transplant them into other pots.

And so I draw the following conclusion.  We've chosen a life that grows and changes very fast just like my above mentioned plant.  If live by my own reasoning, it will grow out of control.  God uses little "snips" now and then to teach me about me ... but more importantly about Him.  The gracious thing is ... these parts that he trims ... get used ... and the lessons keep giving to others ... and to myself.  From one life, comes many lessons.

Here's to growing more and deeper roots ...

Yep. It's official. We are moved into our new place. We packed personal stuff on Monday, Dec. 26th. We packed all the rest on Tuesday, Dec. 27th. Movers came on Wednesday, Dec. 28th and Thursday, Dec. 29th. And, here I sit this morning in my new place with just a small list of things to do to put the final touches on making this place our "home". We've cleaned and packed and unpacked and cleaned until our hands are red and bones are tired ... but ... it's done!


We "officially" said goodbye to our neighbors. It was such a bitter sweet thing, something I wasn't really prepared to experience. As we wiped out the last gunga (personal term of endearment for stuff unidentified, usually green, that is left in the bottom of the fridge) and closed the door for the last time of what was my home, I made the trek over to my neighbors house where she prepared me and my family a coffee.

That one cup of coffee helped me push through any sadness and move on towards an attitude of hopefulness. Sound a bit dramatic? Good. That was the intended effect. However, it is dramatic when looking at it through my lens.

American’s are friendly. We are quick to invite the paper boy in for a glass of milk, quick to offer a stranger a lift, quick to make small talk with the fellow customer in the line at Wal-Mart, quick to start a conversation in the bathroom yet slow to really reach into our emotional bank reserves and build a relationship that could potentially cost us something. Overt friendliness is a safety net that keeps us busy with lots of pretentious “relationships” and bankrupt with really deep levels of intimates.

Austrians are not that way. After living in my former flat for a few months shy of 3 years, this was the first time my neighbor invited me in for coffee.

However, one cup of coffee means that my attempts to be friendly over the fence, feed her children pretzels, offer to water her plants, hug her baby when he skinned his knee, plant flowers, show her how to dip a tortilla chip in homemade salsa, bake cookies with her daughter, speak grammatically incorrect, give a Christmas card, wave from my balcony, and … pray my guts out over her and her family wanting them to know the definition of LOVE in the form of Jesus Christ … God used as a way to penetrate her heart. It’s a sign that God is at work … and a flicker of a flame of hope that burns bright in my heart that God will use my good deeds to produce something wonderful.

Isn't it just like God to use a move, something we perceived as potentially relationship harmful, as being the single thing that catapults this relationship to the next level?! I love the super-human logic of a creative God!


We are now living a very different life from what we jokingly call our “suburb"experience of our former flat. However, it’s all city life. Now our city life is just closer to the inner city, the historical part of the city tourist scramble toward, that involves more daily contact with more humans and more public transportation.


Wien (Vienna) is divided into 23 districts. We now live in the 2nd district. What I’m about to share is information that has been passed on by my Austrian friends. If any misrepresentation of facts occurs, it is not the intention of this writer, but attributed only to my hearing or their re-telling of the facts incorrectly.


The 2nd district is the former Jewish district. Before WWII, approx. 200,000 (one neighbor say 500,000 but his wife says it's 150,000) Jews lived in this part of the city. After the War, 40,000 remained. Surrounded by the Donau River on one side and the Donau Canal on the other, the “Jewish Island” housed many famous writers, musicians, and city planners. Currently, a Jewish center, school and synagogue, now call the 2nd district home, just a few blocks from our place. It is highly secured, complete with round-the-clock video surveillance.

Just a few buildings down from my front door, there is a plaque at the base of one of the buildings. It lies in a state of memorandum to the 23 Jewish men, women and children that were taken from their homes, deported, and exterminated. It’s one of many plaques you can find in my new neighborhood.


I will pass by this building and plaque every day.


I often hear people tell me that I am “living the life” … whatever that means. From their perspective, I live in a beautiful city. It’s true. However, the call on my life (and the life of my Chris) to live in this beautiful city has such a parallel meaning to that Jewish plague I pass everyday day. A Jewish Savior has paid the ultimate price for my life. I, in humble obedience to his specific call and purpose for my life, have chosen to lay things familiar and American aside. I hope that every day, I am living in obedience and making a small difference … an intentional difference to make an impact on a society, a people, one person. Yesterday it was my neighbor.

My prayer is that many years from now it will be a movement of people that began right here … in my new apartment … just down the street from a place Jews were stripped from their freedom. May it be freedom from sin and death that comes to this same street …

This week I called a friend. I had a request to make of her. The request wasn’t even for me … but for another friend. She declined my request and then proceeded to tell me why. Her response was so eloquent and focused that it has given me cause to reevaluate my recent weeks.

I have gotten a bit side-tracked by the recent and now finished apartment search. When I was normally cleaning or doing a spot of laundry, I was preoccupied by searching for an apartment. When I was normally helping Libby with homework, or searching for a new recipe to try on the rest of my family, I was lining up a time to look at an apartment. It totally got me out of my daily grind … and it’s shown me how much I like to be in the grind. The grind works for me. The grind works for my family. The grind keeps me grounded!

I’m now in regroup mode. Here it is the middle of fall and there were no cozy fall things in my house, there were no yummy fall recipes on the horizon, there wasn’t the annual fall tidy in preparation for this time of year. I know, I know … I’m sounding very “Leave it to Beaver” and I’m sure it’s not a far stretch of the imagination to imagine me wearing a dress and sporting a pearl necklace while vacuuming. Stay with me here … I’m just saying that all the things that have become routine and traditional have been set on the back burner. Now, it’s time to move them to the front and give them the proper attention they deserve!

Today, I’m back. I did a mini household cleaning. I made pumpkin applestruedel muffins. I brewed some homemade apple cider. I lit my fall candles. I sent Libby outside to gather some leaves and put them in a clear glass jar as decoration. I feel like a person. All this “out of whack”ness has just confirmed the purposes of my heart and what God has called me to do. No, I’m not saying God has called me to clean my toilet … but … He has called me to be a woman who invests in my family. He’s given me a husband to care for and children to make yummy fall food for. I spent too many years fighting all the things that call me and lure me back to my base! I’ve found my purpose, my design, my role in life. I love being the cog that keeps our family in motion. I love being the one who knows where the cinamon scented candles are and when the right time of year to begin setting them out is. I love hearing my girls oh and aw over the smell of the house when I bake pumpkin muffins.

I have friends who are CEO’s, teachers, and business owners - real women with real jobs who move and shake the world around them. I am not one of them. My world consists of keeping one family running. Today, as I unclogged the cog and set things back in motion, I am ever thankful for the sense of calling and purpose that God has poured into my heart for this “job” I have. It’s ordinary. It’s often thankless. It’s mundane. But … it’s mine … and I love it!

So we find out our contract on our flat will not be renewed. Our owner wants to sell our flat. At this point, unless someone with an extra 270,000 euro wants to give us a generous loan, we have to find a new place to live. We won’t be thrown out in the cold. We will have time to find a new place. We would like to stay … at least until we do our stateside assignment in July 2013, but if it sells, we’re out.

I won’t lie; I had a freak out moment. Then, as I let truth talk to my heart and brain and not my emotions, I began to contemplate. Then, a few days later, I read something brilliant that reminds me who really is in charge of my situation.

In Genesis, in the first book of the Bible, I find Abram (he later gets a name changed and is called Abraham, the father of all Jews, but right now he is still Abram) in a peculiar predicament. He’s had a long history with his nephew, Lot. They go way back. Now, after relocation and a lot of success, they are too big to live next to each other. Abram gives Lot the choice of where he wants to live. He can have luscious, green, fertile land or he can have dusty plains. Well, Lot chooses the luscious, green, fertile land. He takes his stuff and moves.

Now, this is the intensely beautiful part. The Bible says that after Lot leaves … “the Lord said to Abram” and he gives him this huge reminder that He (the Lord) will give him all the land and that he will be a blessing and the father of a nation.

God’s timing is impeccable. I love how God shows up at just the right time. Abram was human. He could have been discouraged by Lot’s choice, by Lot’s selfishness, by Lot’s inconsideration for Abram. Abram could have felt like he got the short end of the stick. Yet, God comes in and tenderly reminds him that He has not forgotten him. God knew what Abram needed. He just needed to hear from Him.

So in the midst of this little news, God has shown up, with perfect timing. I can honestly tell you that this is a journey of faith and trust. This is a timely exploration to test the condition of my heart and my faith. If I let news like this, that to me appears to be unexpected, rock my foundational beliefs about God and who he is – what’s the point in expressing faith? Faith is a blind dependence - yet a conscious one - to depend on and trust the truth of someone bigger than yourself.

Just this morning, God gave me yet another reminder of his fantastic sense of timing. In the book, “Unto the Hills” by Billy Graham, he makes the following statement: As God’s children, we are his dependents. Dependent children spend little time worrying about meals, clothing, and shelter. They assume and they have a right to, that all will be provided by their parents. Because God is responsible for our welfare, we are told to cast all our care upon Him, for he cares for us (I Peter 5:7). Because we are dependent upon God, Jesus said ‘let not your heart be troubled’. Children are not backward about asking for things. They would not be normal is they did not boldly make their needs known. God has said to his children to come boldly before the throne of grace … God is keenly aware that we are dependent upon Him and for life’s necessities.

So, my Chris and I wait, as bold children, for His answer. We would like to stay here. We have asked him for a miracle. However, if our Father desires to do something different, I already trust Him for the outcome. And, who’s to say that kind of peace isn’t the miracle we’ve asked for already answered!

Loving the timing of an intense God,
Christina

We have very dear friends, the Irwin's. We have known them for 12 years. When we left Oklahoma to move to Vienna, the Irwin's and I (speaking for all Elledg'es) dreamed of and prayed for the day that God would bring them to Vienna. Today, as I type, they (John, Shannon and sweet Shelbi) are snuggled in their beds upstairs in my house ... in Vienna! I'm just reminded over and over again of the Psalms that say ... "the Lord has done great things for us."

The Irwin's love Jesus. They are teaching their 3 children to love Jesus. They make me want to love Jesus more.

In the last 2 years, they've watched 2 families they've grown to love leave Norman to serve overseas. I don't break a confidence when I tell that last night, as Shannon was sitting in our big blue chair, she made a confession. After finding out that the second family was being sent out to serve, she was mad at God. "Why do you send everyone away? Why don't you send me?"

Do you know what God said to her, in the turmoil and hurt of her heart? "Because I've put you where I want you."

I don't know when I've heard such beautiful words. I've put you where I want you. God of the universe, who created every star and gave it it's name, created every being that walks and moves and breaths on the planet ... has put them where He wants them. To use them to show others who He is ... and how He loves.

She's settled. She knows her purpose. Her heart still chases the friends that live across the world, but only for a short time and in a healthy way. She's been given a gentle yet profound reminder that God has put her, in Norman, Oklahoma, for a specific purpose for this specific time.

What about you? Are you settled in knowing you are where you are at this moment in time for a purpose? God loves you. God has a plan for you. Don't spend your days pinning what was ... or looking too far into the future. He wants ... no he passionately desires for you to know that you have a place in this world. Embrace it. Use your life.

When the Irwin's came yesterday, they brought with them an entire suitcase from my Mom, Jo Ann. I kid you not, they gave up one of their baggage allowances so she could spoil us with an entire suitcase full of treasures!

For several months, as I have spent time reading the Bible and listening to God, I've noticed He keeps pointing out two words to me: unfailing love. Every time I come across these words, I underline them and make a note of them in my journal. I've come to see these words show up in the most unusual places and situations in the Bible. Every time they appear, I know this is God showing me to pay attention.

After realizing God was up to something, I asked him to show me in a new way the meaning of those words. I know God loves me. But He's set my heart on a search to find out how radically and creatively He loves me with these two simple words: unfailing love.

As I opened up the suitcase from my Mom, I was flooded by another revelation of the meaning of unfailing love. The extravagent treasures I found in that suitcase reminded me how God loves me with unfailing parental love. The things I unpacked spoke right to my heart (like cozy PJ's and watches that have "bling"). They were things that a mother knows her child (despite that child be almost 43 years old) would like. They were things that demonstrated her knowing who I am and what my heart would like. They were things that I wouldn't buy for myself ... even though I wanted to. They were tings that made me feel pretty. They were things that shouted her unfailing love for me, her daughter.

I was overcome ... with gratitude, with feeling loved, with knowing my heavenly Father chose once again to demonstrate to me in a new way how He loves me. And ... he used my Mom to show me.

So, the Irwin's are here ... I'm wearing my new PJ's and wearing my "bling" ... and feeling so loved I could just pop!

Close to popping,
Christina