The four of us had such fun together on our camping trips and weekend excursions. I have so many, many good memories of this period of time. Our monthly trips were the highlight of my life, and from what I could tell, the others felt that way as well.

We'd pack up my dad's old fifth wheel and truck and head out to places all over lower British Columbia. We camped in the mountains, we hiked in the forests, we canoed on the lakes, and we biked on the trails.

I've always enjoyed camping, in spite of the potential there always is for things to go wrong. Those things seem to just add to the excitement of the adventure. Like the time we forgot to bring the tent poles, and had to arrange a contraption to keep the tent up with an orange at the top of the tent tied off with string, which wrapped around a low-hanging tree branch. I remember Pete and I laughing and laughing as we figured out how to set up the tent and then joking that if we were thirsty in the middle of the night, we could just reach up and squeeze the orange to get some fresh orange juice.

It rained a lot in B.C. In fact, I think it rained or drizzled a good eight months out of the year. Consequently, many a time on our camping trips, we'd have to beat the rain in our rush to set up the tents before everything was drenched. Fun memories. Lots of laughs.

One of our trips took us by ferry to Victoria Island, where we stayed in a campsite with no electricity, and since we hadn't brought enough bottled gas, our lantern went out long before we were ready to go bed. The campsite was well away from any city lights and the view of the night sky through the pine trees was spectacular. It was the most star-filled sky I had ever seen. I remember that evening well because we stayed up late into the night telling funny stories of when we were kids and we were all laughing so hard we couldn't properly make S'mores. The four of us had foolish contests instead to see who could get the most chocolate chips into a single marshmallow.

While in Victoria Island we visited Buchard Gardens. Very impressive. Pete and I weren't especially romantic with each other in those days, but he took advantage of a secluded moment in the rose garden to kiss me under a trellis. He and I would hang together most of the time on these excursions, and though we always enjoyed what was going on, talking and catching each other up on our lives was paramount.

Pete loved the outdoors and adventure and was always interested in trying new things, and I enjoyed his company so I tagged along with him in whatever it was he devised to do. We had loads of fun. If there was a tennis court at the campground we stayed in, we'd play. Of course neither of us knew how to play well, so we did more chasing of the ball than anything, while the dog, Sammy, would run back and forth on the court till he actually rubbed his paws raw, poor dog.

We'd take off biking together and explore the mountain trails. I was the more cautious one and Pete was the one who always wanted to go faster or farther. The dog loved to join us. One time we were biking quickly down a forest path with Sammy running full steam ahead in front, followed by Pete and then me. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the dog stopped. Pete stopped in time to avoid hitting the dog, but I was following too close behind Pete to stop in time, and crashed into Pete's bike, flipping over. We both ended up tangled around our bikes, thankfully not very hurt. I'd gotten the worst of it, though, and Pete was tender in patching me up and was careful to make sure that we rode side by side after that, so that it wouldn't happen again.

One year we went salmon fishing on the Fraser River during the salmon run. We never did catch any salmon but we spent hours with our poles in the middle of the river watching salmon swimming by. You had the feeling that any second now you'd catch one. I enjoyed the experience.

Pete and I both played guitar and I dabbled in keyboard playing as well. My dad also plays guitar, so we'd all bring along our instruments and we enjoyed singing together around the campfire. While Amy would cook the meal, Pete and I would often pull out our guitars and everyone would join in the singing.

We hiked in Golden Ears Provincial Park, and even attended a sheep fair once. Pete and Techi lived on a farm and had sheep, horses, and other animals, so a lot of useful information was gained by them through attending the fair. We attended the PNE (Pacific National Exhibition) when it was in town, which is the Canadian version of a state fair.

One time we camped near Buntzen Lake, and decided to rent canoes and go canoeing. It was March, and while it had warmed up just enough to camp, the water was not nearly warm enough to swim in. With three to a canoe, we had canoed for over an hour out to the far end of the lake. Buntzen Lake is a valley filled up with water, so the shoreline consists mostly of trees, without much of a shoreline. We spotted a small rocky beach off in the distance and decided to head there so that we could beach the canoes and have our picnic lunch. Daddy, Techi, and I were in one canoe, and Amy, Pete, and Charity were in the other. We decided to race towards the beach. Our canoe was in the lead, when at about 100 yards from the shore, it tipped, and in a flash of a second, Daddy, Techi, and I found ourselves up to our necks in absolutely freezing water. The cold seemed to instantly hit my brain, and I sort of froze, watching things float out of the canoe as if in a daze. I shall never forget the looks on the faces of the three in the other canoe as they stared at us with open mouths, not believing what they were seeing.

Daddy took charge of the situation, instructing the other canoe to come over and ordering Techi and I not to touch the other canoe until he could situate us evenly around the canoe, so when we finally grabbed on, it wouldn't risk tipping their canoe as well. Thankfully we all had lifejackets on. The cold water felt like knives stabbing every part of your body and it would have been impossible to stay afloat without the lifejackets. We hung on to the other canoe as they, with much effort, paddled us all to the rocky beach. We stumbled out of the water colder than we'd ever been in our lives.

A few weeks prior to this, others and I had taken the children in my Home on an excursion to visit the Canadian coastguard. The coastguard had given us this big explanation about hypothermia and its symptoms and how dangerous it is, and how they have to be attentive to the possibility of hypothermia when they conduct water rescues. Ever the alarmist, as we stumbled out of the lake after having been in it for around 10 or 15 minutes, I was expounding on the symptoms of hypothermia, quite concerned that perhaps we would have it from having been so long in the very cold water. Techi meanwhile had gotten sick to her stomach.

It was quite the scene! The three of us drenched and shivering. Me babbling nonsense about hypothermia through chattering teeth. Techi getting sick. Pete scrambling to beach the canoes. Amy assisting Techi. Charity looking on aghast, and my dad trying to bring order to the situation.

An elderly couple also canoeing on the lake had seen us fall in and went to retrieve our canoe. They also gave us a blanket, which came in handy for Daddy who had to row the canoe back to the main shore—soaking wet and in the wind. Techi and I took off as many wet clothes as we could, trading into some of Amy and Charity's dry ones, and together with them, hiked for 45 minutes around the lake back to the main shore. When we got there, we could still see Dad and Pete rowing the canoes back. By the time Daddy got the canoe back to shore, we knew he must be very cold and not feeling well at all because he let Pete go get the truck from the parking lot and bring it down to the loading dock. Pete was barely sixteen, but had gotten some driving practice on the farm.

After loading up the canoes, we headed off back to our fifth wheel for hot tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches while huddled under mountains of blankets. Soup had never tasted so good in my life. That was quite the adventure—one I'll never forget! Thankfully no one got sick or had any ill effects at all from being in the freezing water. Quite a miracle!

In the span of those three years when we would get together monthly, we also did some witnessing, which I enjoyed and was an exception from the norm for those living in publication units. We even put together a small singing team. Pete and I would play the guitar and we'd all sing. Or I'd play a portable keyboard and Pete would play guitar.

We would spend hours practicing our songs while staying at a little apartment in Guilford during our weekend get-togethers. We generally did poorly at focusing on practice. We'd jump at any reason to get off topic and be foolish. However, we somehow managed to put together a simple show, which we took to various retirement homes in the area.

We also did some "port" witnessing—singing and witnessing to the sailors on the ships at anchor in the Vancouver harbor. We'd bring along our Bibles and tracts and we witnessed to and led many sailors to Jesus. We'd sing on boats from all parts of the world, and most of the sailors spoke English. We'd time our performance so that we would sing during either their lunch or dinner hour, and after our show, we'd mingle with the sailors and witness to them.

Pete was good at one-on-one witnessing. I would team up with him as much as I could, because it was fascinating to hear his answers to questions, and to see how he would explain the principles of faith and salvation or the Endtime. He had a knack for being persuasive, personable, and friendly at the same time. He knew his Bible well and always had a good biblical basis for any of his answers. It was impressive. He was much, much better at this than I, and I always enjoyed watching him witness to others.

In order to have witnessing experiences while maintaining the secrecy of our location, we would not openly associate ourselves with the Family, nor would we use any of our known outreach tools. We would simply witness with our songs, our Bibles, and Christian tracts that we had obtained at local Christian bookstores.

One time we sang on a Venezuelan ship. We had our little repertoire of songs, "This Little Light of Mine" and "Oh, Happy Day" being among them. When we had finished our set, one man rushed up to us and asked, "Have you ever heard of Jeremy Spencer and the Children of God?" This was not a question we were expecting to get, so we asked him what made him ask, and he said, "Somehow you remind me of those people. I used to know them in the early 70s." He explained that he had left the group because they didn't allow any sex and he had problems with the leadership. He explained, "Seeing you just now, I can't help but feel the same…spirit, the same light in your eyes. You sing with such conviction—just like they did." Ha! So much for trying to be undercover!

On a few of our weekend trips we would go through taped seminars. One time we went through a seminar on improving memory and another on speed reading. Also, the grown-ups took advantage of these times we were together to teach us things that we had previously been unaware of how to do, seeing as we'd all lived overseas all our lives. We would buddy up and have an assignment to complete on our own. For example, filling out forms requesting information and mailing them off, getting from point A to point B on the public transport system and so on. Pete and I would team up and we frequently found ourselves approaching our assignments in completely different ways—me wanting to just ask for directions, and him wanting to figure it out. Typical male/female type of stuff.

We'd always have Word time in the morning and we'd often have impromptu discussions over dinner at night. We'd get into all manner of theological or moral topics, or just laugh and tell fun stories about our lives or funny things that had happened to us in the month since we'd last seen one another. Or we'd play board games or huddle around for a movie.

Pete and I grew close over those three years. We shared a lot of the same interests, especially music, which we'd listen to together and talk about in detail. He filled the need I had for friendship in my life at that time, and I like to think I did the same for him. We'd write each other notes throughout the month and would pass them back and forth and keep in contact. We'd also pass music back and forth between each other, often secretly.

Pete and I would often stay up late into the night after the others had gone to bed, talking in detail about the Endtime or the future, something that he was into at the time. He always had a lot to say about his interests back home: the huge vegetable garden he and my dad had and the progress they were making, his pets and animals on the farm, his horse, his interest in electronics, and the courses that he was taking.

Pete and I went to driving school together when I was eighteen and he was sixteen. The four-week course that was held in the local high-school covered driving rules, safety, and defensive driving. Every Sunday for a few months, Daddy took me out for driving practice. It was fun to have that time with him—though I do wonder if teaching me to drive may have given him his current heart condition, ha! One time while driving in the countryside I was focusing so intently on the road that I sailed right through a red light without seeing it at all. It was sort of hanging way up high on a wire across the street and I completely missed seeing it. Thankfully there was no other traffic around. My dad yelled, "Stop the car! Stop the car!" And when I stopped and pulled off the road and he had gathered his wits about him, he asked me, "Why didn't you stop at the light?"

"I didn't see a light, Daddy," was my response.

To which he breathed deeply and remained silent for a moment before stating, "I think I'll drive for a while now." My poor dad. While we were still in the parking lot stage of driving, he would have me practice using the brake and accelerator. After he had picked himself off of the dashboard several times, he instructed, "Think of the brake and the accelerator as an egg. Push them both softly. Don't hit them hard. Imagine that you have an egg under your foot and you want to push on the brake so that you don't break the egg." Once both Pete and I had learned to drive, Daddy took us both on a trip to Seattle to get our licenses. He had us take turns driving all the way, to gain additional experience, and bless him, he had to put up with a few more new-driver scary situations.

Those trips and the friendship I had with Pete are happy memories of my youth. He was a big part of my life at that time and he helped me a lot. I can't imagine what my life would have been like through my later teen years without his friendship. It meant a lot to me.

It was also special for me to spend time with my dad. When Daddy was no longer able to go on the monthly trips with us, he would still make time to see me. Sometimes he would take me out for the afternoon on a weekend, and we'd go on a hike or we'd go out to lunch. I would save all my "hard" or doctrinal questions for when I saw him. I'd also freely share with him whatever big ideas or visions I had for my life or the Family or the young people in the Family. I remember one time I was telling him that I thought it was important that young people got trained to be music producers. And once they had gotten the training, then they could make music for the young people of the Family that would relate to them and that the young people would like. I had all my reasons and arguments, and being so into music, it was definitely a need in my life. Daddy listened patiently, and though he had his reasons why he thought it wouldn't work right then, he told me, "Sweetheart, it's a good idea. It's something that needs to be done. Right now is not the time for it. But one day it will be the time for it and then it'll happen, and when it does, it'll be wonderful. But you have to have patience. These things will take time." It was good counsel, and I've often thought back on his advice when projecting into the future with new ideas.

I've always been a music lover. I'm not a musician, per se, but I can play a bit on a few instruments and I've always loved music. Once I'd finished my schooling, I had lots of free time in the evenings and I decided to teach myself how to play the piano. I started saving up my money to buy a keyboard that I could start learning with. When Daddy realized it was going to take me more than a year to save up the money, he found out what keyboard I wanted to get, and made up the difference in what I still lacked for buying it. He surprised me with the keyboard on my birthday while we were eating out. I taught myself how to play piano—well at least somewhat. It certainly kept me occupied on many a lonely evening. I also had the opportunity to be exposed to the banjo, flute, and accordion, which I enjoyed trying to learn how to play.