Jo Seibel will be the first to admit it: she relishes the simple life. Activities
like hanging her laundry to dry in the backyard, roasting marshmallows
over an open fire, nurturing flowers to full-bloomed beauty, talking deep into
the night with her children, and enjoying the animals and wildlife that populate the 400-acre Townley-Boyle farm in Cambridge Springs, Pa.
She offers her binoculars to a visitor. “You’ve got to see this,” she says,
beaming. In the distance is a bald eagle’s nest, where the enormous bird is
perched above dozens of beef cattle grazing on the rolling hills. A few moments later, Jo points to them.
“They’re popping out calves left and right,” she says, smiling again.
Jo Seibel relaxes with a cup of coffee inside her home on the Townley-Boyle Farm.
Jo and three of her kids rent a quaint home on the Townley-Boyle Farm.
The structure is covered by white siding with red shutters framing the windows. Folklore has it that a soldier was given the land following the Civil
War and sold it to siblings George and Betty Townley for a mere pittance.
Betty later married a man named Boyle and the families settled on the
property.
As Jo shares that piece of history, her 4-year-old dog named Trio wanders
by. She explains his peculiar moniker: “He’s black, brown, and white and
he’s a mix of German Shepherd, Australian Shepherd, and Oak Hound.
Three colors, three breeds. Trio.”
Jo also is quick to describe the farm’s unique location: “We’re twenty
minutes from everything.” She’s not far off. PennWest Edinboro University is about 10 minutes away. Meadville is 17 minutes down the
road. Erie, about 40 minutes, depending on how fast you navigate Interstate 79.
Inside the house, you won’t find a television or any sort of smart devices,
but there is plenty of wisdom. A devout Mennonite — Jo and her daughters
are wearing head coverings and skirts that extend below the knee — she is
fueled by inspiring messages hanging on nearly every wall, including this
paraphrase of Luke 1:37: “Faith does not make things easy. It makes them
possible.”
And if Jo Seibel has learned anything during her 52 years on this planet, it’s
this: Never confuse simple with easy.
“Always pray to have eyes that see the best in people ...”
That’s the first line of another message hanging on the wall. The elegantly framed script was a gift from Jo’s sister, Carol. It also represents Jo’s mission in life. If what she sees in another isn’t the best it can be, she jumps in to make it better.
She just can’t help herself. She cares deeply. And she’s not afraid to step out boldly to prove it. Perhaps those traits come from her parents.
She recalls spending her formative years in Alberta, Canada, a daughter of Bill and Gloria Cooley, both now 77. They were born in Pennsylvania and Ohio, got married at age 18 right out of high school, and initially settled in Hershey, Pa. So why the big move up north?
“When my dad was a child someone told him, ‘Billy, when you grow up you should move to Alberta.’ He’s very adventurous. So he did.”
Jo still carries fond memories of living on a farm with her six siblings and walking to an old-fashioned country store to purchase candy on their father’s account. The simple life.
“We grew up like weeds. We would always be outside. I loved that. Just care-free.”
There was something else Jo didn’t care for — school — and she quit going the moment her 15th birthday arrived, which signaled the legal age to receive an agricultural exemption from the classroom. Her family was now living in Lancaster, Pa., after her father pursued a business opportunity with a friend. Bill Cooley was a welder and mechanic, and he helped to develop heat reclaimers, which had become extremely popular at the time.
“I just didn’t want to go to school,” she remembers. “I wanted to drop out. It didn’t seem like that big a deal.”
As she reflected on her disdain for formal education, Jo pointed out the irony — her dad was the valedictorian of his high school class; her mom was the salutatorian of hers.
She was hired in her father’s shop and initially began carrying out office duties. But Jo soon started creating blue prints and drawing pole buildings to scale for construction.
“When I left school I wasn’t just sitting around doing nothing. I really learned a lot. But at the time, I didn’t realize how much I was learning.”
Jo also learned about a handsome young man named Darvin Seibel, a friend of her brother's, who also was working for her dad. She was 19 when they married, and within a decade they had produced five daughters.
By this time Jo could no longer work for her father, so she would take on smaller jobs like babysitting and sewing to help provide for the home.
The family was growing. And so was Jo’s desire to continue living a simple life. Just not in this country.
“A heart that forgives the worst ...”
“Get down! Get down!”
Jo Seibel has forgiven the 10 men wielding guns. But she will never forget. She just can’t forget the small army ambushing the vehicle that was hauling her family. She just can't forget one of the men pressing a pistol to her husband’s head.
“Get down! Get down!”
And she just can't forget the horrified look on the faces of her five daughters as she screamed that command. What mother could?
Jo slips off her glasses and wipes away tears from her eyes.
“As a mother, it was my worst nightmare. I still don’t know why they didn’t shoot us. It was a miracle.”
Haiti was in upheaval when the Seibel family arrived in January of 2004, ready to make an impact as long-term missionaries. Delivering care and comfort to the least and the lost had been Jo’s dream since childhood. Yet after just three weeks in their new home, they were told to evacuate and return to the United States until further notice.
While a missionary in Haiti, Jo Seibel says one of her most fulfilling roles was to nurture malnourished babies back to health.
However, President Jean-Bertrand Aristide was ousted in a coup d’état just a month later — through American influence, many still believe — and the Seibels were told it was safe to come back.
They arrived again in Haiti, but their luggage didn’t. And because the vehicle they were riding in wasn’t filled with bags, the gunmen did not view them as suspicious outsiders coming to make trouble.
“We were spared,” Jo says softly. “I believe strongly when God sends you, he takes care of you and protects you.”
Jo began running a guest house while Darvin worked as a mechanic for trucks belonging to Christian Aid Ministries, the organization under which the Seibels served. Jo explains that poverty is rampant in Haiti, with many families lacking even the most basic resources.
“We would take malnourished babies and care for them, feed them, and give them back to their families. To say that their lives were really, really hard is an understatement. There’s no safety net for these children.”
Jo’s daughter Kiana, now 16, saw firsthand her mother’s compassion.
“When I was younger, I actually thought she was a nurse in Haiti. She was always caring for people.”
Daughter Emily, 23, saw similar tendencies.
“She’s basically been a nurse her whole life. She’s always very calm in a crisis.”
And while in Haiti, this mother with only an eighth-grade education took on another unique role — teacher.
“That’s when I began homeschooling my kids,” Jo says matter-of-factly. “I was learning right along with them.”
That segment of her life would all come together eventually. But not before her heart was shattered.
“A mind that forgets the bad ...”
Although they loved their time as missionaries, the Seibels relocated to Cambridge Springs in 2019 to be near extended family. Two more children born in Haiti, including the only boy, had increased their own clan to nine. Without hesitating, Jo rattles off their names and ages:
•Deidra, 30
•Ashley, 28
•Courtney, 26
•Emily, 23
•Brooklyn, 21
•Derek, 18
•Kiana, 16
While the children were healthy and thriving, the marriage wasn’t. Jo had realized that no amount of pretending would change her husband’s chronic infidelity. So in August of 2022, she told Darvin he needed to leave.
“It was incredibly painful,” Jo explains. “For months I cried until 2am. It was grief for what should have been and could have been. The loss of a dream.”
And if the emotional nightmare weren’t enough, her mind began to veer toward the practical: What could this single mother do to provide for her family?
Jo had been cleaning homes part time to earn spending money, “but it’s pretty exhausting work. To think of doing it for the next twenty to thirty years was not feasible. I needed to come up with a way to support myself.”
She began searching for other opportunities, but without a high school diploma her options were limited. It was time for another bold move: return to the world of formal education. She logged 12 hours of instruction through Zoom at the Cambridge Springs Library, and took the four General Educational Development tests.
And in 2024, at age 51, Jo Seibel embraced a new title: high school graduate.
“It felt like a miracle. I knew I put in the work, but it really felt amazing.”
She also felt something else that was quite surprising.
“I was thrilled to still be able to learn at this age.”
Now came the next challenge: “I would think to myself, ‘What could I do to serve people?’ ”
Both Emily Seibel, left, and Kiana Seibel say their mother has been displaying the compassion and care of a nurse for as long as they can remember.
Jo spent hours driving around the streets of Meadville pondering that question. Then she had an epiphany. “I could be a nurse. I’ve been acting like a nurse my whole life.”
But to get there, she would need to act like a college student first.
“And a soul that never loses faith in God.”
So far, so good. According to her professors, even better than that.
“Jo is CRUSHING this back-to-school season of her life,” says Jessica Gage, a professor at Portage Learning. Jessica teaches Developmental (Lifespan) Psychology, one of four courses Jo completed with the online educational institution in Beaver Falls, Pa. “She’s smart and introspective, hardworking, unafraid to ask for help and face her own biases. I greatly respect her as a student, but also as a woman outside of the learning space.”
Mike Tolliver taught Jo's Introduction to Ethics (Biomedical) course. He appreciated her willingness to reach out with questions and engage in deeper exploration of the material.
“It was clear from her questions that she was wrestling with the course conent in a way that demonstrated her internalization of the ethical principles we discussed,” Mike points out. “I was impressed both by how insightful her questions were and how she handled my responses to those questions.”
And what did Jo think of her initial college experience? “I’ve loved all of my professors. All of them were super-helpful. I really think the classes were put together so well and were very understandable.”
And for someone juggling the responsibilities of work and family, she also appreciated the flexibility of the asynchronous courses.
“If you look at my testing history, I knocked out many of them between 10pm and 1am,” Jo remembers. “The whole setup was perfect for me. I tried to do everything with the least amount of stress on my family.”
Jo is now enrolled in the 16-month traditional BSN program at UPMC Jameson School of Nursing at UPMC Hamot in Erie. If all goes well with her studies, she will graduate around the same time as her youngest child Kiana, who just completed her sophomore year at Faith Builders Christian School in Guys Mills, Pa.
“There’s nothing too big for God,” Jo declares. “I’m going to do this.” She glances over at Kiana practicing her archery skills at the side of the house.
“WE’RE going to do this.”
“Always pray to have eyes that see the best in people, a heart that forgives the worst, a mind that forgets the bad, and a soul that never loses faith in God.”
Although Jo’s focus is simplicity, life can get pretty complicated sometimes. There’s a home to keep up. There are children to parent. There are classes to attend, exams to take, and practical experience to gain during clinical training.
All while continuing to clean and provide companion care for elderly residents like Karen Barnard.
It’s a dreary Friday morning in northwest Pennsylvania. A steady rain is falling and so is the temperature. Jo drives her 2013 Honda CRV to Mullen Road in Meadville. Just before the last turn, she passes a vape shop with a drive-thru.
Jo Seibel and Karen Barnard enjoy a grocery shopping excursion at Valesky’s in Meadville, Pa. Jo provides cleaning and companion care services for Karen and other clients in the Meadville area.
Visitors to Karen’s home are greeted loudly by Zink, a 7-year-old Beagle owned by her grandson, Drake, who’s lived with Karen since age 2. Drake is the son of Karen’s daughter, Kristy, who died at age 29 after a battle with cancer. Her other daughter, Shelly, is a social worker at the Cleveland Clinic.
Karen said Drake bought Zink to take him rabbit hunting.
“C’mon, Zink! Do you want your lunch?” Karen calls out. Zink dutifully follows her into the kitchen, tail wagging, and patiently waits for her cup of kibble.
Karen, 77, is one of six regular clients Jo cleans for in the Meadville area. Jo usually visits once a week to vacuum, dust, and mop inside the home. Jo then drives Karen around on a variety of errands — filling up with gas, picking up prescriptions at Giant Eagle, and doing a little shopping at Valesky’s grocery store or the nearby Walmart.
Karen rolls her eyes when mentioning that last location. “No one likes it, but we all go there. They have everything.”
Karen may have lost her husband of 54 years to a massive heart attack in 2023, but she hasn’t lost her sense of humor. “The last meal I made Dale before he died was ramen noodles,” she quips. “If I had known he was going to be gone, I would have at least made him a cheese sandwich.”
Karen now wears a plastic neck brace because of some misaligned vertebrae, which has limited her mobility and peripheral vision. It also means she can longer drive and carry out housework the way she used to do. That’s why she enlisted Jo’s services about a year ago after a friend recommended her.
“She’s one of my favorite clients. We have a lot of fun together. I probably tell her things I shouldn’t tell her,” Jo says, laughing.
She shuts off the vacuum cleaner.
“I’ve learned to have more zest for life from Karen. She’s interested in so many different things. She’s so adventuresome for her age. I have a goal to be the same way.”
Later that afternoon, Jo is enjoying a cup of coffee in her living room. She says she can see herself continuing her nursing career even as she approaches Karen’s longevity.
“I’m not the retiring type. I believe God has given me a gift of caring for and nurturing other people. I can see myself doing this until I die.”
She takes a sip from her mug and and looks out the window. A couple of calves are romping in the field as the dark clouds give way to sunshine.
“There’s been a lot of hard things in my life over the past 10 years. I came out of that with a lot of rejection. I didn’t think I had much value. So I talked to God a lot about this. Nobody else in my family has gone to college. And at my age, I wanted to feel certain God was opening doors in this direction.”
Surrounded by inspiring messages of faith and lots of family photos, she offers one more simple pronouncement in a life that hasn’t exactly been easy.
“I wouldn’t trade what I have in a million years.”
