Travels with Mom

I struggle to put into words an event that was so life changing and amazing that even the most brilliant vocabulary doesn't seem to do it justice. How do I reduce this event to mere words? I will do my best, but for my readers, you're only going to get a small glimpse, a tiny piece of a week that left imprints on my heart for a lifetime. This has been my struggle for the last two weeks, which explains why I'm just now even making an attempt at this.

Two weeks ago my mom and I returned home after a week together in Pennsylvania. The purpose of the trip was to attend my mom's aunt and uncle's estate auction in New Holland. As stated in previous blog posts, my family roots are "plain," quite literally. My ancestral roots go back to "Horse-and-buggy Mennonites" and even Amish relatives. This auction, followed by a family reunion the next day, was quite a "blending" of the different cultures my family line contains.

This was the first time my mom and I ever took a trip together, just the two of us. It was something I had wanted to do for a long time, but I will confess, I was a bit apprehensive about it too. We would be sharing a bed together in a quaint room at my mom's cousin's house and spending lots of time together in the car. Pre-trip, I wondered if such close quarters might cause bickering between us, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Instead, these tight quarters and travel time brought bonding between us and a HUGE growth in our relationship. We had an entire day together after a day of travel and before the auction. We spent that first day with my Aunt Edna (my mom's sister) and my parent's long time friend, Clete. I'd heard a lot about Clete over the years, but had never met him. It didn't take long to realize that Clete and I shared a common sense of humor. Within an hour of meeting him, we were laughing and teasing and my mom and aunt gave us plenty to tease about.

The auction itself was something I will never forget for the rest of my life. The house my great aunt and uncle live in has been in the family for a very long time, in fact, my grandfather and all his siblings were born in that house. There were over 100 years of treasures in that house that were up for auction. Everything from quilts and milk jugs, to farm equipment and buildings (yes actual buildings to be torn down). Over a thousand people came out for the auction. The people watching was worth the travel alone! Family from all over the US traveled to New Holland for this monumental event (even my dad's brother and his wife came in from Ohio, even though it wasn't their family). The streets and property were covered with cars of all types, tons of bicycles and rows of horse-and-buggies. It really hit me just how far from California I was as I had an Amish man on my right and someone of an "alternative lifestyle" on my left. I was on sensory overload as I tried to take it all in. I was surrounded by family and strangers, all there to take home a piece of my family history. If you're wondering, I brought home a platter and a plate from the auction. I did bid on more, but that's what I ended up with.


The auction was followed up by a family reunion the next day. My mom's cousin, Roy, didn't want this opportunity of all the Hoovers being together to escape us without
the opportunity to share a meal together and share pictures and stories. It is said that from my grandfather's parents alone are over 700 descendants, and that number doesn't include the spouses. The Hoovers have large families, some over 12 kids each. Although it was raining and windy that day, it didn't stop about 200 people from gathering together under a large tent on the family property. There was lots of laughter and figuring out who were second cousins and first cousins-once-removed, and on and on. The family resemblances ran deep, despite the vast differences in our attire.

After a week of visiting different family members and sightseeing, we wrapped up our week with a day in Philly. We visited the Liberty Bell, the US Mint, Betsy Ross's house, memorials and more. Of course, a trip to Philly wouldn't be complete without a real Philly cheese steak!

There were so many times I wished the rest of my family could have been there to experience it, but God had a plan and I believe He orchestrated this trip to be just for my mom and me. Our relationship has had its ups and downs over the years as most children have with their mothers, but this trip definitely marked a new beginning for us. We grew to know each other as friends and learned to respect our differences and similarities. We laughed a lot and shared stories together and grew in our love for each other. A memorable moment for me was when my mom shared with me, with tears in her eyes, how much it meant to her to share this trip with me.

Whose Plan is this Anyway?

"Many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." Proverbs 19:21

Five years ago I had the privilege to go on a missions trip to Guatemala. While there, my team built a water collection cistern in a small remote village. Although it was a difficult task - no modern digging equipment or cement mixers, just "muscle power" - it was an experience I'll never forget. I left for the journey wondering how God would use me to change the lives of the Guatemalan people, but I returned with the heart that God used the Guatemalan people to change me! I also learned a profound lesson on the trip.....God's plan is ALWAYS better than mine.

I was so proud of myself to have my bags packed and in the car when I still had more than an hour before I had to meet my group and head to the airport. My bags were packed full of long skirts, customary attire for working in a Guatemalan school. That's when I got the call that I would be building a cistern and not working at the school. Irritated and disappointed, I pulled my suitcase from the car and repacked it with jeans and work clothes. If that wasn't disappointing enough, when we arrived where we would be staying in Guatemala, I found out I would be sharing a dorm with a bunch of teen girls. Here I was, away from my young girls, and I was going to be stuck with teenagers for 10 days. One day into the trip and I was thanking God for His plan and that He ditched mine. The physical labor of building the cistern was exactly how God wanted to work in my life. I tear up every time I think of that cistern and all the people that benefit from the water that's collected in it because of our labor on the slope of a volcano in a small village in Guatemala. And the teen girls I shared a room with? They were true entertainment, exciting and took me back to my youth. If God had let me have it my way, I would have missed out on so much!

Upon returning from that missions trip, all I could think about was, "Where next God?" For many years there has been a piece of me that wants to rid myself of all the "things" in my life and move to a foreign land as a missionary. Due to my husband's neck injury and God's lack of a long term calling on my life, it looks like, at least for now, that I'll have to settle for short term trips. So, I was beyond excited in late 2007 when God opened up the door for me to go to Kenya in early 2008. Kenya has held a piece of my heart for a long time. Not long after preparations for the trip began, violence broke out in Kenya after a questionable election and the trip was cancelled. I was devastated! However, I remembered from previous experiences that God's plan is always better and sure enough, several months later, God began some serious pruning in my life that lead to Him flooding my life with too many blessings to count. Had I gone on that trip, I know with all my heart, I would have been miserable and missed out on what God had in store for me.

All of this has lead me to present day and I'm scheduled to go to Kenya in August. Initially, my church was going to send one team to Kenya, but after great interest was shown in the trip, a second team was formed. Both my brother, Bill (well, he's not really my brother, but he's like a brother to me), and I applied to go. We were both accepted for the two week trip, but on separate teams. To top it off, my team was scheduled to go the second half of August, which would have me in Africa when my girls start school. After some emails back and forth with the Director of World Missions at church, I was moved to the first team with Bill. The funny thing was, I should have been thrilled, instead I had this feeling in my gut that something wasn't quite right. It didn't make sense to me, I was going to Kenya, with Bill and I'd be back in time for the first day of school. Why didn't it feel "right?"

January brought our first team meeting. All the missions teams were there: Kenya, Zimbabwe, Peru, India and Haiti. After a group meeting, we broke up into our teams. There I sat, next to Bill and my new team members, but my eyes kept drifting to the other side of the room to look at the second team, my original team. I committed the next two weeks to prayer....not my will, Lord, but yours. That's when the phone rang. The second trip had been moved up and although I wouldn't be able to travel with Bill, I would be home in time for the start of school for my girls. February brought our second team meeting and the first time I would meet with my new team, which was my original team....are you still with me? It took about 2 minutes to realize I was "home," with the team God wanted me to be on and the team He had put me on before I tried to interfere with my plan.

I imagine I won't know why God wanted me on that team until I'm in Africa, or maybe I won't ever know at all. But, one thing is for sure, just as Proverbs says, God's plan is always better than mine!

Walk the Talk

It was hard enough sending my oldest daughter to jr. high, but the "phone call" was excruciating! Yes, my sweet, little Kiley started jr. high in the fall and when I dropped her off for the first day of school my heart ached. I flashed back to my first day of jr. high and the nerves that tortured me many years ago invaded me once again. The small confines of elementary school were now over and the GIANT corridors of a large school with many teachers, many class rooms and mean kids were now a regular part of her day. If I could go in her place, I would have. I would even dare to say that it was more nerve racking to send my daughter than it was for me to go when I was her age. I knew she could adjust to changing classrooms, but it was the personalities of the hormonal students that worried me. Lets face it, as I stated earlier, kids can be mean, viciously mean, and Kiley is a shy, timid girl. All I could do was surrender her to God and PRAY! I prayed all day until she was back in the safe confines of my car after school.

Before I knew it, K had survived her first week and I could breathe a sigh of relief. I should have held my breath a little longer......for I was about to get the "phone call." The caller I.D. showed the school name and my heart skipped a beat as I anxiously grabbed the phone. "Kiley's had an accident in P.E." I was told as I heard her crying in the background. "You need to come get her right away. We've done all we can, but she can't finish out the school day." After I interrogated the the school official, I had the basic facts: she fell on the track, her knees were badly bleeding and I wouldn't believe just how bad until I got there. I arrived at the school to find her freshly bandaged knees bleeding profusely, through the bandages.

The ride home was difficult for both of us. Now Kiley had to endure my interrogation. From her, I uncovered the following facts: she had just started running the mile when a group of boys came from behind and pushed her down, it was witnessed by 2 girls that said the boy reached out and pushed her, then ran off laughing with his friends. Finally, no one could identify just who exactly did it. I got K home, removed some small rocks (not pebbles, but rocks) from deep within her knees, cleaned them and rebandaged them. With that complete, my feelings of sadness and hurt for Kiley slowly turned to rage towards the punk (he didn't deserve the name "boy") that did this. I never knew I could feel such anger towards a jr. high aged boy! The phone call to my husband wasn't any easier. He was thinking about attending her P.E. class the next day with a shotgun! He was going to get that boy to come forward even if it required beating every single one of them until someone spoke up (not that he would EVER do this, but it made us both feel better just to imagine it).

We were finally able to get our anger under control by surrendering it to the Lord. The rage inside of us was only hurting us, not the boy and how could we teach Kiley grace and forgiveness if we didn't practice it ourselves? We prayed tirelessly that not only could we forgive, but that Kiley's heart would heal with our hearts and that the boy would confess his apology and we could forgive him fully. We submitted our hearts to God each day as we went through the daily process of cleaning and rebandaging her knees. Even though our hearts ached for her, especially while she couldn't ride her beloved horse, Polka Dot (which was her passion), we trusted God had a plan and He would use this situation to bring Him glory.

Exactly one week after the fall, Kiley joyfully leaped into the car after school to proclaim that the boy that pushed her had come to her and confessed and asked for an apology. Kiley graciously offered him forgiveness. I beamed with pride as I grabbed the phone to share the news with my husband. I believe with all my heart that God convicted that boy to come forward. I believe that God taught us something about grace, forgiveness and the power of prayer through the incident. Finally, I believe that K learned that her parents don't just talk the talk, but we also walk the talk.

Braving the Rough Water Swim

Oh how we look forward to the LaJolla Rough Water Swim each year. The event is held in the LaJolla Cove every September and draws swimmers from across the US and beyond. Our swim team makes a weekend trip out of it by meeting at the Cove for a practice swim on Saturday then going back to the beautiful hotel, The LaJolla Sheraton, cleaning up and going to dinner at TGIFridays. Sunday morning, bright and early, the first race begins with girls ages 6 and under taking to the beach and swimming their hearts out. Then, the race continues by age group and boys and girls. It continues through the Gator Man, a 3 mile swim that only the fiercest swimmers dare tackle.

One of the things I like best about this event is spending time with all of the swim team families that participate. Our team is constantly growing and I often only get to know people by casual "hello's" at the pool deck and seeing their checks each month since I'm the treasurer. Our Saturday evening dinner allows lots of time to chat, laugh and get to know each other. Trust me, there is no shortage of laughter!

This was our 4th year participating in this exciting event. Makenna first competed as a 7 year-old, braving the rough ocean waves with a fierce competitive spirit. The second year we went, Kiley, Makenna and myself all competed. We were so thrilled that Kiley competed as she's not much of a risk taker. It was also a huge accomplishment for me since I'd never competed as a swimmer before, especially a 1 mile ocean swim! Our third year, Kiley decided she was perfectly content as a "one-hit-wonder," she earned her medal and had no desire to compete again. However, Makenna and I welcomed the challenge again. This year however, Makenna faced the event alone. I was out with a knee injury, unable to train and could hardly handle walking up and down steps. So, Makenna competed solo, making us proud parents even prouder. Way to go Makenna!

Saying Goodbye to Grandpa

My Grandpa Jake lead quite an interesting life. The stories that compile his life would make for an interesting read. He was born Dec. 27, 1915 into a "Conservative Mennonite" or "Old Order Mennonite" family. If that brings to mind the people you see at your local Mennonite Church, you're probably way off. I'm talking Pennsylvania Dutch speaking, horse and buggy, no electricity, plain folk Mennonite. In fact, to the untrained eye, a person driving through Lancaster County, Pennsylvania probably wouldn't be able to distinguish the difference between them and the Amish. They left "the Order" when my mom was a young girl, for reasons that I've never really been certain, but needless to say, he didn't live your "typical" life. He has lots of stories about his strict upbringing, his mean grandma and what it was like growing up Mennonite.

He's always been a private man, so I didn't know much about him until his later years. My grandmother, the complete opposite, was such a prominant figure in my life growing up, but Grandpa, well, "private" just seems the perfect word to describe him. All of that changed 5 years ago though when my grandmother suddenly passed away. Since he was under the care of my grandmother, he suddenly found himself dependant on his children and grandchildren, something I don't think any of us saw coming. In a matter of days, he went from living independantly with his loving wife in the desert to moving into an Assisted Living Facility in Orange County. Over the next 5 years, he began building strong relationships with not only his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but even got in contact with siblings that he hadn't spoken to, in some cases, decades.

It's been a special 5 years with Grandpa. He loved when I would bring the kids to visit, espcially my daughter, Makenna, as he felt a special bond with her since she was born on his birthday (which was also his father's birthday). In fact, she was the only great-grandchild that he sent money to when she was born....$2. That may not sound like much to you, but that was a big deal coming from Grandpa! Kiley, with her love of horses, loved hearing about his childhood horse, Dolly and we all enjoyed the stories he would tell about hiding from his grandparents in the barn. He especially loved my husband, John, and loved to hear his work stories. We even heard him say, "I love you" as we would leave from a visit, something we had never heard from him before.

On September 2nd, Grandpa went home to be with the Lord. We all knew he was in his final days and all of his kids and most of his grandkids and great-grandkids were at his bedside in the days leading up to his death. Most important to Grandpa, his son, my Uncle John, was there. Uncle John is quite a bit younger than my mom and her sisters and while my uncle was growing up, my grandfather was living in the desert away from his wife and son due to health reasons. Uncle John and my Aunt Janet were his primary caretakers after Grandma's death and they built a special relationship, the relationship of a father and son that my uncle never knew. It was only appropriate that when my grandfather took his final breath, it was his son at his side, holding his hand as he entered into Heaven.

The following was written to me by my Aunt Janet in an email after Grandpa's death and I find it so touching that I've decided to include it in my blog (with her permission, of course):

"You could see that he was going between two worlds. While he wasn't in any pain, it would seem he would get peaceful and then be pulled back to consciousness. It seemed that while he tried to let go, something brought him back. At times he seemed surprised to see us, in fact one time he snapped open his eyes and saw John and said,"Oh it's you." He seemed confused as if he had been somewhere else and didn't expect to see John. He kept calling out "John," and John would reassure him of his presence. He wanted to hold John's hand a lot. You could tell it comforted him to know John was there. Then one time he called out to him and turned and looked at him and said "I love you" and reached for his hand again. We knew then that he realized that he was dying and we began to sob and told him to go home. Then he looked up at John and said, "Can I follow the light?" and John told him to go ahead and follow the light. Grandpa became very peaceful and we thought this is it, but all of a sudden he came to and at the same time said "no." I think he realized that his body as it relaxed was letting go of everything. From that point on he seemed very ill at ease. After that, he never regained consciousness, was very peaceful and soon after he was gone. It is so hard to believe that it happened so quickly. Hospice was surprised too, especially that he communicated to us up to the end. That is unusual. But it was nice to be able to share his final moments with him alone and know that he went home."

I love you Grandpa and you will live on in my heart until we'll together again.

Grandpa with some of his great-granchildren at Grandma's memorial

Eternity - The Greatest Choice Ever Made

My heart leaps for joy every time I see people give their lives to the Lord as I know that they have ultimately saved their lives. I will spend eternity with them with our Heavenly Father. As all Christian parents desire, I want nothing more than for my daughters to give their lives to the Lord and know that their salvation is secured and any separation I might have from them will only be temporary. It's been my constant prayer that the girls would make this decision on their own, without my "pushing" them into it. I've known for a long time that they know Jesus, but my heart's desire has been for them to have a relationship with Jesus. So, I've prayed and taught them the LOVE of Christ and waited patiently.

My waiting came to an end a couple of weeks ago when Makenna made the decision to give her life to Christ at CCV's Vacation Bible School. I rejoiced with her and celebrated the best decision she could ever make. Several days later, we were in the pool when she told me she wanted to take the next step of obedience to Christ and be baptized. As we discussed this, Kiley asked me to pray with her. She, too, wanted to give her life to the Lord and pray the prayer of salvation. Right there, on the step in the pool, we joined hands and secured her salvation too! The girls decided to be baptized together, so I acted swiftly and contacted one of the Children's Pastors at CCV. The next day, the girls were in her office as I patiently waited outside the door. Pastor Dawn and Pastor Roy wanted to make sure the girls understood the decisions they had made and that they made their decisions freely and without persuasion.

Several days later, during one of the morning Worship Services, there we were, as a family, baptizing our daughters. John and I were each able to "dunk our daughters" as they buried their former lives and rose to a new life in Christ. I imagine that the rejoicing in my heart was echoed in Heaven as all the saints rejoiced with us. Two more lives for the Lord.

As parents, we know our jobs aren't over. God calls us to continue on the path of nurturing their relationships with the Lord and guiding them through their Spiritual journey. We praise God for the gift He gave us by entrusting us with His children and now we praise Him for the good work He has done and continues to do in their lives. It's with amazing joy that we celebrate their salvation!

Our Hearts are Seeing Polka Dots

Many of you know that my home is filled with so many pets that I should start charging admission to my "zoo." Yes, I'm a pet lover! Growing up, it was cats. I had a huge heart for cats and my parents nearly strangled me one evening when I came home from a babysitting job with yet another new kitten. I believe the most I ever had at one time was 4 cats, but I can't say for sure. I've also been known to bring home birds, hamsters and fish. The one pet my parents never allowed growing up was a dog, what cruel parents they were! While John and I were dating, my love for cats spilled over on his place and soon I was bringing cats to his bachelor pad. John had no weakness to my sympathetic face and sweet kitten in my arms, but his roommate was a sucker and he took in every cat I brought their way.

John and I got our first pet the day after we arrived back from our honeymoon, a sweet kitten we named Peter. A year later, we purchased our first house together and soon after, Trapper joined our family. He was a Hungarian Vizsla and was the love of our lives, although he had to take a backseat to the girls once they arrived. The pets just continued joining the family over the last 16 years. Until 3 weeks ago, we were standing ground at 3 dogs, 3 cats, 2 fish and a mouse. We decided that was it, no more! But then........Kiley, our oldest, finally found her absolute passion in life and our lives changed....BIG TIME!

Kiley has a love for animals that reaches way beyond her mother! I do believe if we let her, we would have so many pets that we could star in the show "Animal Hoarders!" Her heart is big and she fills it with animals. Unlike her sister, who found her passion for life in swimming at the age of 5, Kiley tried many things, but just couldn't find that one thing she loved. Piano lessons failed to capture her heart, as did soccer, swimming, tennis, gymnastics and many other activities. She often found things she enjoyed, but just didn't bring her to her knees in excitement the way swimming did for Makenna. As all devoted parents do, we continued to pursue new activities for Kiley, but never finding that one thing.

John's brother happens to have beautiful horse property just up the road from us and he boards several horses at his place. Just about every time we visit, the first thing she wants to do is visit the horses. That got me thinking. I spoke to my brother-in-law to see if one of the horse owners might be interested in teaching Kiley some "horse basics" in trade for her helping with the mucking. He introduced her to a 16 year-old girl named Hailey and they formed an instant bond. They worked together twice a week and we started to see tremendous growth in Kiley. She started to develop a strong work ethic, responsibility, confidence.....all the things we pray she'd develop. It wasn't long that she was asking for riding lessons, which we did, and then her own horse. For those of you that don't know, horses are a HUGE responsibility!!! Their stalls must be mucked daily, exercised often, fed huge amounts of food twice daily and I'm not even at the part about them being a giant money pit! BUT, all that seemed to not matter when it came to the "passion" we finally saw bubbling over in Kiley. She wanted a horse and she wanted it bad! So, she set out on a journey to prove she could do it and we made an agreement with her that if she could prove to us that she could handle owning a horse, we would get her one. We made no promise in terms of a timeline, we just said "some day."

That "some day" came three weeks ago when her trainer found the perfect "Kiley horse." His name is Polka Dot and when you see him, you know exactly where he got his name! He is 12 1/2 years old, just like Kiley. With Kiley visiting my parents for a week, we quickly began planning her big surprise, her very own horse. I set out early on a Saturday morning with our trainer and we drove to Palm Springs to pick up the horse and take him to his new home at John's brother's house. We arrived "home" about 11am and got him all set up to meet his new owner. I even attached a blue polka dot bow to his halter. At noon, Kiley arrived at the barn with my parents for what she thought was her riding lesson on Hailey's horse. It was then that we took her to the stall and revealed her gift. Her initial confusion over what was happening quickly turned to excitement. The joy on her face brought tears to my eyes. The moment was captured on video as well as in the minds of all that were present.

Three weeks have gone by since that day and Kiley is building a bond with this horse that will be with her for a lifetime. Together, they are learning how to listen to each other and work together. I couldn't be happier for my first born to finally find her "thing" and I praise God for bringing us Polka Dot, even as I also pray for my sanity as we now have a HUGE responsibility!