1958: Ivan & Perú

This opening photo could explain why Dad was the only one of our family who attended Grandma Hoyt's funeral in early December. Mother was eight months pregnant at the time. A month earlier, Uncle Phil had taken my parents and Grandma Hirschy for a ride to Elwood to show them the way to Mary Evans Hospital. It was important to know the best roads and be prepared for any eventuality. The area is very hilly, there are so many curves, and the weather is unpredictable in the middle of winter. Ivan Wayne Hoyt arrived safely January 5, 1958. 

   

Aldo, Lynn, Rita

We three siblings waited eagerly to hear the news. Each time Mother gave birth I hoped for a sister. But, again this time, it was not to be. We loved watching our new baby brother grow and change.

We enjoyed those months shared with grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins. A few of the other relatives came and went from the other missionary fields. 
 

 

                                                                       

Winter turned into spring, then summer. The adventure of a school year in the US ended. I look back at my first impressions in the classroom. "Everyone speaks English," I thought. It was all so strange and quite an adjustment. I was socially awkward and didn't fit in. My courses, on the other hand, were not difficult. I was surprised to find that school could even be fun.  

Piano lessons continued throughout that year with an elderly teacher. I remember she wanted me to master a composition by Claude Debussy.

My parents kept busy with mission-related responsibilities--visiting churches, writing articles for the Brethren Missionary Herald, in addition to the building project for my grandparents and speaking in their church on occasion. 

We enjoyed family outings, like this picnic roasting hot dogs by a lovely pond.

Then it was time to return to Argentina. According to a note in the denominational magazine (8.02.58), our fellow missionaries the Schrocks were already on the high seas in July. However, the Hoyts´ promised passage had been cancelled and were awaiting their time to travel.

The following issue (8.09.58) mentioned our departure August 7 and that we traveled via Latin American Airlines. 

Another news item appeared in the August 30th publication:

I knew about our stop in Peru to visit the de Rossets but did not remember my father's back difficulty. More than once in his lifetime he was laid up with back trouble.

The de Rosset family

Obviously my missionary aunt and uncle, who were our neighbors that whole year in Evans City, had returned earlier to their place of service in Trujillo, Peru. Their two oldest, Eddie and Karin, stayed behind to continue their education in the US. 

 It was such a privilege to visit them and learn about their work and surroundings. The eight-hour taxi ride north from Lima, the capital, to Trujillo, was the scariest I can recall. The winding narrow highway hugged the coast between a serious drop to the ocean on the left and a steep sandy mountainside on the right. The experienced drivers were not afraid to speed.

Although I was too young to appreciate the lengths to which these dear relatives went to entertain us, I do remember Aunt Joyce's pies, and Uncle Ed's generosity. 

The following photos tell of the sight-seeing outings. All these sites were in their area. The Huacas (shrines or temples) of the Moche peoples from nearly two thousand years ago, are enormous adobe brick structures. They have since become sophisticated tourist destinations, highly commercialized.

Huaca del sol

Huaca de la luna

Joyce & Kathryn in forefront

Rosie and Rita in back

Ed at Huanchaco

Huanchaco has become a popular beach city. 

Salaverry, the gateway to Trujillo, is the great multipurpose port of Northern Peru. In addition to all the historic and archeological sites in the area, the natural attractions are a big draw--great beaches and opportunities to surf, fish, sandboard, and more.

Uncle Ed and Aunt Joyce tried to start a church there. Mostly they worked in Trujillo, Peru's second largest city. The following photo is of the church front and on the left you can see the Christian bookstore.

La librería y la iglesia en la Avda. La Unión

Trujillo is now a very modern city. These are glimpses into life sixty or seventy years ago.

Callejón típico

Cousin Karin says this may be the narrow corridor near the church where her best friend Natalia lived at the end in a two-room adobe hut. She also recalls the burros that carried fresh milk they bought.

This was market street. Uncle Ed did all the shopping because he was a better bargainer. 

En el mercado: Freddy, Lynn y el tío Ed

This photo brings back the memory of Uncle Ed's generosity. He heard me hint that I wanted to take back souvenirs for my friends, and he immediatly bought an assortment for me.

I asked cousin Rosie to write a summary of her parents' ministry in Peru. She sent me a piece she wrote a few years ago after her parents moved out of the Evans City family homestead, where they resided after retirement. The painful task of dealing with the accumulations of several generations, had fallen to her. Here is an excerpt.

I found letters from my father back to the 30’s, chronicling his meeting my mother and their missionary career.  In 1944, during WWII they went out by boat from Texas to Peru on $60 a month support without the language which they learned by walking around and listening to people talk.  They arrived in the port city of Callao with almost nothing and went by bus to the coastal city of Trujillo, Peru.  It was a hard and lonely beginning.

I read about how my mother at first felt forsaken of God as they lived in two rooms in a rat-infested primitive hotel with unsavory toilet facilities down the hall.

I read about her longing for trees and home then about her first Peruvian friends and her love for them and the beginnings of a church in a ramshackle fishing village, about my father’s discouragement over theft (he used to have the windshield wipers stolen off his Model T Ford, a car that had to be cranked and had no back doors so he just told us to sit in the middle).

And so many times I read about his clinging to I Peter 5:7  “casting all your care upon him for he careth for you.”  

And I read about how they began to plant churches and finally in the 80’s founded a seminary which flourishes today.

My mother, who never took no for an answer, taught hundreds of people to read and women how to care for their children. She used every resource she had and even taught many people to play the piano on a cardboard keyboard, and they could play when they hit the real thing. 

They lasted through sorrow, loss and joy for 42 years. It is a story of ordinary people to whom God was faithful; they clung to Him, and He was with them, performing His good work.

I conclude with Rosie's opening paragraph to her reflections and the scripture which expresses my thoughts also as I look back on my parents' ministry:

As I sat in the middle of both the documents of my teaching life at Moody Bible Institute and the records of my history at home, I came back to Paul’s familiar words in Philippians 1:6: 

“I am persuaded of this very thing that He who has begun a good work in you

will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ."