The Phone Call That Changed My Life (Five Years Ago Today)
An exclusive excerpt from my upcoming memoir, The Keystone Awakening.
Five years ago today, I was sitting at our local swimming pool with my three daughters, trying to survive another hot Pennsylvania summer afternoon.
At the time, I was leading a brand-new grassroots movement called Audit The Vote PA. We had just crossed 100,000 signatures on our petition calling for a forensic audit of the 2020 election. The movement was growing far faster than any of us expected, and every day seemed to bring a new challenge that I had absolutely no idea how to solve.
A week earlier, I had been told to expect a phone call from President Donald Trump.
The call never came.
Or at least, I thought it wasn’t coming.
Eventually I stopped checking my phone every few minutes and went back to doing what moms do—packing towels, chasing kids, negotiating over snacks, and trying to make sure nobody drowned.
Today, as I officially announce that I have a publishing contract in hand to tell this whole story, it seemed fitting to share one of the chapters from the manuscript, The Keystone Awakening: How a Pennsylvania Mom Found Purpose During America’s Third Great Awakening.
I hope you enjoy this excerpt from the book based on my best memories from 5 years ago today.
No one on the East Coast expects the weather in the middle of the summer to be cool and breezy, but on that particular July day, the humidity was off the charts. In an effort to keep the kiddos occupied and off of screens, I decided to venture out to our local swimming pool for a few hours in hopes of cooling everyone down, including myself, and also spending some much-needed time with my three kids who had suddenly started to wonder why Mommy was ALWAYS on the phone and leaving more often than she used to.
“Just a few minutes to myself… that’s all I’m asking for.”
As the laundry list of random thoughts raced through my brain at Mach one speed, I exhaled loudly and plopped all the swimming stuff down on the soggy green grass near the kid pool area. We always camped out near the kiddie pool where a giant orange crocodile bucket dumped water every few minutes. The water only came up to about three and a half feet, which meant I could keep all three girls within eyesight. Between the bathroom, the snack bar, and the shallow end, it was as close to "manageable" as taking three young kids swimming ever gets.
“Mommy, I’m hungry!” shouts my three-year-old.
“Of course you are”, I thought.
It didn’t matter how much I fed them before we left the house or what scorched earth warnings I gave them NOT to ask for concession stand food, it was just a matter of time before one of them started wandering in that direction, and I knew the fight for healthy snacks just wasn’t worth it.
The anxiety that comes with taking three young kids to a swimming pool when only one of them can swim, one has mildly developed survival skills, and one is most certainly going to drown if left unattended where she can’t touch the bottom is a whole other matter.
“Do I have to put the puddle jumper on?” Hallie protested.
“If you want to swim, you do.”
“I just need goggles, right Mom?” Juliette asked.
“I’d prefer if you also wear a puddle jumper, but if you’re going to fight me on that, then today is your lucky day. I just don’t have the energy to argue over this right now.”
Feeling like an octopus stuck in a phone booth, I tried to set up the sunshade while simultaneously laying out the blanket so that we wouldn’t get all muddy and my youngest would keep from burning up when she decided she was done with the water, which was at least once every 5-10 minutes.
“Why did I think taking them swimming by myself was a good idea?” I mused.
Shaking my head, I finished with our usual set up and headed to the shallow end of the pool to try to get some vitamin D while still fastening the puddle jumper on three-year-old Hallie.
I had pretty much given up on getting a phone call from the President, even though it was supposed to have come a week ago, so much so, that I wasn’t checking my phone regularly anymore or hoping to see a DC number pop up on the screen.
“Or should I be expecting a Florida phone number? Or maybe New York? He has a place in New York, right?” I said to myself as I was splashing along with the kiddos and swinging them around on my legs waiting for the bucket to dump water on all three of us.
My racing thoughts got back on their usual track as I started to think about our next steps. Even though we met our goal of getting over 100,000 signatures on the petition for a forensic audit and no doubt were developing serious momentum in that direction, there were still so many obstacles in our way.
Our election integrity champion, Senator Doug Mastriano, was swimming upstream in Harrisburg, getting way more opposition than support. Sure, he had just gotten back from visiting Arizona where he toured the Maricopa County facility to get a first-hand look of how they ran things, and sure he had some allies in Pennsylvania, but they were few and far between.
“Even if we got the green light, none of us had any idea how to run a statewide forensic audit. And even if we figured that out, who was going to pay for it??”
Those self-defeating thoughts never stopped, which made it even easier to reconcile that a phone call from the President was so wildly unlikely and unprecedented that I wasn’t even disappointed that it hadn’t come yet.
“Mommy! Mommy! Look, the bucket is about to drop! 10… 9… 8… 7… 6…” and as the infamous chant from the kiddie pool bucket countdown came to a close, a refreshing splash of cold water came raining down on our heads and we all laughed and basked in the simple joy of summertime.
But in between every moment of trying to enjoy family time with the kiddos, thoughts of logistically how we were going to pull this off consumed my brain once more.
I hadn't looked at my phone in over an hour, and the moment I decided to pick it up, a (202) number flashed across the screen. I didn’t know that Washington DC had a (202) area code, so when I picked up, I was shocked to hear the voice of a female assistant, ever so kind and somewhat excited saying, “Hello, Ms. Shuppe? I’m so glad we were able to connect. I have a very special person on the other end of the phone who wants to talk to you. Is now an okay time?”
Every sound around me suddenly disappears.
The laughter.
The splashing.
The countdown from the bucket.
Everything.
“Say what?”
My jaw drops.
“Is this it?”
My eyes get wide as saucers.
“Where the heck is the (202) area code from?”
I could feel myself holding my breath.
“And how is this happening while I’m at the waterpark with my kids!?”
A rush of anxiety shoots through my entire body.
“Just shoot me!”
I managed to stammer out some sort of reply while attempting to get my other 2 friends who had joined me on this crazy adventure to join the call as I ran over to Savanna who was dancing around aimlessly in the deeper part of the kiddie pool.
“Savanna!! Savanna!! Get over here!!”
I hadn’t noticed that I was pacing back and forth on the scorching hot pavement until I saw the look on her face.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?”
“Nothing’s wrong sweetheart, but this is REALLY important. You have to keep a close eye on Hallie and Jules because this is the phone call I’ve been waiting for from President Trump! Can you please make sure their heads stay above the water?”
“Yes, Mommy, I will.”
I can’t remember if she was excited or nervous or oblivious to what was happening, but I continued to pace back and forth as I waited. Then I took one deep breath, and sure enough there came that unmistakable voice.
That’s where I’ll leave the story—for now.
The conversation that followed, the invitation that came next, and the dinner that forever changed my life will all be in The Keystone Awakening.
Thank you for taking this journey with me from the beginning. More soon.
