How do you spell that?
"Hoopes, like basketball hoops with an es" I would answer.
I loved my name growing up. Cecilia Hoopes. Cecilia—the name is pretty and looks symmetrical on paper with the two i's flanking the l. And Hoopes, a nice one syllable name, not very common, with pretty double oo's. I also liked my catchy tagline: My last name is Hoopes and I'm 5' 11" but I don't play basketball.
As I grew up, I struggled with the good Catholic vocation quandary: "what does God want me to do with my life?" And by high school, I had it all figured out. I was not as good with kids as my sister was, and was kind of a pushover. So, I knew I would not make a good parent.
I still had a case of residual, "ew, boys, cooties" from grade school, and no guys really seemed to be into me anyway. I loved hanging out with my girlfriends, and I loved Jesus. Spending the rest of my life in a community of women who loved Jesus would be a dream! Everything added up. There was my answer. God wanted me to join a religious order to be a sister.
Sweet, vocation crisis over. No longer something I had to worry about. I realized, I would never have to change my last name, as I would just possibly be changing my first name. So, much like you put your first name with your crush's last name, I imagined all the different sister names I might have. Sister Magdalen Grace was my favorite and first choice at the time.
College confirmed that marriage wasn't for me
Through college, I decided I would date, but only to more fully realize that marriage was not what I was called to. See? I was being so open to God's will! Just in case I had misunderstood in middle school and high school, I was giving God a second chance to confirm my call. I am just so generous with God, and so open to his will, I thought. Gosh, I'm going to make a great nun.
Well, after a horrible first date freshman year, I figured my life goals were confirmed. Men, and dating, and marriage were not for me. Whew!
Slowly, though, my heart began to change. I grew in all sorts of ways the next few years, one major area of growth for me was humility. And I got myself a spiritual director. Suddenly, I was more at peace and happy in life than I ever had been before. I had made good friends who supported me and helped me grow. One such friend was the guy I had gone on the horrible first date with. He was loud, opinionated, and sometimes borderline obnoxious. He was a hugger (ew. I hate hugs), a chemist (chemistry—the only class I'd ever failed), and had a strange last name: Pigg.
Note well: In a spirit of fairness, I wasn't an instant winner either. I am often quite reserved, and have odd habits combined with the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy.
Am I bringing you closer to Christ?
But Pigg was a good guy, and we hung out more and more. And more. Before you knew it we were dating. And then, one rainy April day, he asked me if he was bringing me closer to Christ or farther away from Him. I pondered the question, and realized that the answer was closer. His follow-up question was, "well, I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, how do you feel about that?"
I was astonished. And speechless. I realized that I actively wanted the same thing, and the idea overwhelmed me. A little while later, we got engaged.
And during engagement, the honeymoon period of the relationship ended, and the real life annoyances of two very different people preparing to spend their lives together set in. Was I really marrying this crazy man who had not gotten quieter, but louder, with time? All the little stupid habits and defects of the other person came to light in painfully obvious ways throughout our engagement. Many we slowly resolved and compromised on, or just accepted, and some we are still learning how to navigate. It was amazing that even little, superficial things became a big deal. Case in point: what to do about our last name situation.
So, that name though...
He offered to take my last name, as he had been teased his whole life because of it. Though I loved my last name, I wanted a new last name too! We thought about hyphenating it, but neither Hoopes-Pigg nor Pigg-Hoopes quite rolls off the tongue.
Eventually, I decided I really wanted to fully embrace Pigg. How better to say, "I love all of you dear future husband," then by changing my last name to one frequently associated with that of a snouted, hoofed mammal renowned as dirty, smelly, undiscerning, and fat? In the end, it is just a name. And honestly, I've grown to love my new, unique name quite a bit.
The moral of this story is
So, I've found a few dating morals for you in my love story. Don't let the little, more superficial details (that are perhaps the first things you notice) distract you from the person you are getting to know. (Examples: ugly sweaters, a weird laugh, an unusual profession, an irritating habit...even strained conversations are not deal breakers). I am also a big proponent of giving so-so first dates a second chance. A horrible first date with a loud hugger named Pigg turned out to be the surprising start of a beautiful journey with my best friend and now husband.
You never know when your Pigg in shining armor or your Hoopes post-vocational distress is going to turn up. Don't disregard them when they do!
Nowadays, when someone asks me my last name I smile confidently and reply, "Pigg, like the animal, with an extra g."
