Forgiveness

Today was the day I had been preparing for for weeks. It was my day to share my testimony and preach on Forgiveness and Grace. I knew this was going to be an emotional day as I would be sharing very difficult times from my past. Justin helped me prepare last night as I filled in any gaps I had in my lesson and write the questions for the small groups we do after the teaching. I went to bed last night feeling confident. I wish I woke up that way! After some prayer, I settled down and headed out for home visits in the slum. Upon arriving at the community center, there was no time to think about the lesson as we had a meeting with HIV positive mothers and handed out nutritional supplements. Soon the youth began to arrive and my nerves started up again. Fortunately, I have an awesome team and they gathered around me and prayed for me before I sat down to study. The time had come for the youth to gather in the meeting room for worship and the lesson. I took a deep breath and gave it all to God. After all, it was God's message, I was only the vessel He was using to deliver the message. As Justin introduced me, I stepped up confident and ready. I have to say, Kenyan children are the best audience! They are so excited to hear what you have to say and aren't disruptive when they're supposed to be quiet. If only youth in America could be such great listeners! I began with my testimony and shared honestly and openly about the deepest part of my soul. As soon as I shared about rape, my heart broke as I saw the look on some of the girl's faces that they knew that same pain. After I finished with my testimony, I went into my lesson on forgiveness and how important it is to our faith and and healing in our hearts, especially how forgiveness has healed me. I finished to a roaring applause and joy filled my heart. The highlight of the day was when a couple of girls approached me after small groups and asked if I could give them pictures of me so they could remember me and my story for the rest of their lives. Once again, I was reminded why God sent me to Africa and is fulfilling His promise that He'll use all things in my life for His good.

I also want to mention that the shoes that we purchased for all the youth arrived and it was such an awesome experience to see the joy on their faces as they received the shoes, many of which were receiving their first pair of new shoes in their life. It was overwhelming as kids hugged us and thanked us for such a gift. Yes, God is good!

It's a girl!

I arrived in Kenya knowing that I wanted to sponsor a child through CCP, but I had specifically waited to pick a child until this trip because I wanted to actually know my child and sponsor a child I connected with. The other night, Stella, the lady that runs CCP, brought profiles of all the available children to the guest house for us to look at. The second to the last profile I looked at was a 4 year-old girl named Hadassah and her sweet face caught my attention and when I read she likes to jump rope, my heart skipped a beat. The next morning, which was yesterday morning, our team was scheduled for home visits in the Kawangware Slums and they arranged for me to meet Hadassah. When I arrived, I found a bright-eyed girl with a sweet smile that lit up her face. At first, she was a bit shy until I got down to her level and opened my arms to her. One of her friends came running over and hugged me then Hadassah followed her friend's lead. I picked her up, she giggled and I was hooked! Love just flowed through my heart and I knew I found my little girl. It took about 20 minutes to locate her mother, so as we waited, we played. We didn't have a jump rope so we just jumped, then we danced and soon about 5 of her friends joined us but Hadassah made sure she was the only child I held.

When Hadassah's mother, Beatrice, arrived she invited us into her very humble home to talk. Beatrice was married and had a daughter, Stella, who is now 13. Her husband got sick and died and they later determined he most likely died of AIDS. Beatrice was lonely, poor and didn't know what to do. In order to survive and provide for her daughter, she began prostituting. She eventually found herself a boyfriend and got pregnant. During her prenatal care, she learned she was HIV positive and the boyfriend, Hadassah's father, left her. He has never been seen again. Hadassah tested HIV negative at birth and at 1 year. The standard is to test again at age 5 as that is most likely when it will show up. She is showing symptoms of the disease so we are all praying that when they test her again in October, she will be negative. Her mother has had a very difficult time earning enough money to pay for their rent and food. They often go hungry. News of her HIV status spread among the slums and no one would buy her fruits and vegetables anymore. She now earns a very meager income washing clothes for neighbors.

When I told Beatrice I wanted to sponsor her daughter, she was overjoyed. My sponsorship will provide her school fees, nutritional needs, medical treatment and so much more. When it was time to leave, Hadassah didn't want me to leave. I gave her a hug and promised her I would be back next week. What she doesn't know is that I'll be taking her shopping next week for clothes, food and toys. I can't wait! Hadassah chased after me as I left her lot reaching for me. It broke my heart to leave her.

If God brought me to Kenya just to meet Hadassah, then it's been worth the trip. She is a precious child, loved by God and loved by me.

Greetings from Kenya

Greetings from Kenya! Yesterday was our first full day in the Kawangware Slums in Nairobi, Kenya. The day can't be described in mere words, but I'll do my best. We started the day in the CCP (Chosen Children of Promise) offices and did a prayer walk through the slums. The living conditions were unlike anything I've ever seen before. The roads are anything but smooth, trash, unknown wet waste, filth, a smell unlike anything I've ever smelled before. Americans know no poverty like I've seen here. Everyone lives in filth, animals roam everywhere, injured and dirty. I could feel all the eyes that were on me as these strangers walked their village. Small children ran towards me to touch my white skin to see if it was real. Many have never seen white skin before. They wondered if they could rub it off. Something that was unmistakable though, was their desire to meet us and welcome us into their homes. Many were full of smiles for their unexpected visitors. The children would laugh and chase us, chanting "How are you? How are you? How are you?" As I said earlier, we had the opportunity to enter homes, meet caretakers of the CCP children and pray for them for their many needs: financial, health, school fees, children. I loved them instantly as their stories touched my heart. A highlight of the prayer walk was meeting with women with newly started businesses, just tiny, little fruit stands or seamstress booths. Their "shops" are TINY and made of twigs holding up small roofs. They were sacrificing all they had to start these businesses. It was an awesome pleasure to pray for them and their new endeavors. Before I knew it, my heart was aching to give the best of myself to these people.

We ended our prayer walk at the CCP Community Center where we finally got to meet the children. Many were wearing their finest clothing to greet us. We played games with them, then divided them into small groups to go out into the slums again and enter homes to assess their needs and pray with them. I was paired up with a CCP staff member, "Bob" and 6 girls and 1 boy ranging in age from 10-16. Samual, the boy, wanted to take us to his home to meet his mother.

This is where I entered the hardest point of my day. With unclear direction and lack of training (he's an office worker for CCP, not a social worker) "Bob" put me in a very uncomfortable and unsafe situation. First, he didn't translate his conversations with the "Mamas" for me then just asked me to pray. I had no idea what their conversations were about, how to specifically pray for them, but I did my best and just prayed a "general" prayer for each home I entered. Also, as we were walking through the slums, and this is where the safety comes into issue, "Bob" walked way ahead of me leaving me with a couple of kids far behind him. The slums are very crowded and difficult to navigate and I was scared for my safety and for getting lost. Fortunately, I was able to catch up with "Bob" and made it safely back to the CCP Community Center.

The good news was that upon returning to the Community Center and debriefing with the CCP staff, I learned that many lives were given to the Lord in other groups. Also upon our return, we measured each child's feat as we will surprise all 110 of them next week with new shoes.

We arrived back at the boarding house where we're staying late in the day and exhausted. We gathered together as a team after dinner to share our "highs and lows" of the day (something we are doing everyday) and that was when I shared my scary experience that day. With the emotions of fear fresh in my mind, heart broken from the poverty I had witnessed that day and complete exhaustion from lack of sleep, I broke into tears as I shared my feelings from the experience of walking and praying with the kids and "Bob." Much to my surprise, I learned the same thing happened to someone else on the team. We all decided this was a learning experience and we'll grow from it.

There is so much I could share, but I'm exhausted and want to get as much sleep as possible before we start another busy day first thing in the morning. I will continue to blog as much as possible, pending I have internet access and share my "highs and lows" with all of you. But as a recap I can say with full confidence that I feel God's presence all around me and I'm so honored and blessed to have this opportunity to be on the other side of the world sharing God's love in Kenya.

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!