-One day Elena asked me what she was supposed to say, so that she
doesn't sound cocky when someone pays her a compliment. I told her to
believe them, and just say, "Thank you."
-One day, I said to Mary, "Do you know you're cute?" She said, "How can I not, when you tell me everyday?"
-One day, when I was sick, I came from my bed straight to the living room couch. I was just sitting there staring off into space, and Mary said to me, "Mommy you're pretty, even when you're sick." I smiled at her and said, "Thank you baby, I don't think so, but thank you." And she said, "Well I do, but it only matters what you think."
-One day I found Mary at the computer drawing. I was really impressed with what she had done. I told her how good her drawing was, and how smart I thought she was. She had that shy dimpled grin on her face that says she's pleased, and that she believed me. She stood up and said, "Thank you Mommy. I love to draw. . ." Then she wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my stomach.
-One day Siwa took Mary to the ceramic studio. This time Siwa helped
her make a little bowl for me. You can't see it in the picture, but it
says Mary heart Mom. They fired it and glazed it in blue, and this last
week Mary gave it to me.
For as long as I can remember, from the time she was first able to draw, speak or write, Mary has been telling me, over and over, in countless ways, that she loves and adores me. My sister Angela sent this music video to me, on a hard day, and it was so uplifting I watched it three times. On the third viewing, paper airplanes started flying around the room. They had Mary's loving words written all over them . . .
I like the final scene, where the paper airplane is thrown out there, just hovering,
like an open invitation to all of us, to "say love."
It's been a busy, good month. Here are some moments:
-We have a haku lei making marathon. We make them for Jesse's seminary graduation, and then some more for the high school graduation. We pick flowers from the yard and from a friend's. Siwa forms the little bouquets and I wrap them onto the lei. They turn out really beautiful, and a lot of love goes into them.
-At the high school graduation, the graduates put on a show and rock the house. There's singing and dancing and backflips, and one senior crouches on the podium clapping and gets the audience going. Afterwards, outside, we can barely maneuver through the crowd. It's a throng of people, jumbled with signs, leis, balloons and blaring music. It's a fun night, but I'm glad to get out of the noise when it's over.
-A friend of mine is visiting from the mainland. She and one other friend come over for lunch. Our trio is reunited. We have sandwiches with homemade bread, a green salad, and lilikoi (passion fruit) juice with chunks of oranges and pineapple, basil and ice floating in it. The lilikoi and basil are from the garden. It feels like old times. Some people are like that, you pick up with them where you left off, as if you never parted.
-We have family coming. We work really hard to get things ready. We deep clean and move furniture and make space for eight people. We wash curtains, clean screens, windows and sills, sweep, mop, dust, wash bedding and towels, make beds, and more. It is so worth the effort. Can't wait to see them!
-Saturday morning. The weather turns warm and still these days.
Scott
and I are up before the kids. We open all the windows to let the
fresh air in.
There is hardly a leaf quivering. It's going to be a hot
one.
All week long I have been doing battle against the weeds and slugs and snails. It feels good to stand back and survey my work. Little by little, the wildness and chaos that was my yard is coming into order, and its a pleasure to look at it. I feel satisfaction and peace. There's still so much to do- like the west side of the yard. I wasn't paying attention and the slugs, especially, have multiplied to the point that I need to bring in reinforcements. We'll need to go on slug hunts every night, and scatter bait, and clean up those wet, shaded areas where they hide.
It's the same with the weeds- one plant left unchecked can yield hundreds to thousands of seeds. Constant vigilance is required in this life, because negative things will always be creeping in when we're not looking, and seemingly innocent things (what harm can one slug do?) have a way of multiplying exponentially. Prevention is better than cure, and vigilance and diligence do win the battle. My yard is proof of that.
On Sunday, Jesse graduated from seminary- that's four years of early morning religious instruction (to learn more about it click here). Every weekday morning (during the school year) she would rise at 5 am, and be out the door by six. For about an hour each morning she and her classmates would study the scriptures, then she would come home, and do her chores and school. It hasn't been easy, and I know there were days when she would have loved to have slept in, but she always did it freely, of her own choice. I'm really proud of her, of the discipline she has shown, and of her knowledge of the scriptures.
After the commencement exercises, the graduates and family and friends met in the cultural hall, and the congratulations began to flow. There was a whole lot of hugging and kissing and lei giving. We had made five haku leis for Jesse and her close friends, and a bunch of leis. We were all over the place looking for them in the crowd, and taking pictures. It made me really happy to stand back and look at Jesse and her girls, with their arms over each others' shoulders, smiling and laughing. It made me happy to think about how they've grown up together, and how much they love each other- all of them good and virtuous young women. I also felt an overwhelming gratitude to Jesse's seminary teacher, for years of preparing lessons, and rising so early in the morning, for putting her heart and soul into her teaching, and all without pay.
That's pure love.
Seminary has required hours and hours of scripture study and scripture memorizing of Jesse.
It's the kind of effort that writes the gospel upon one's heart,
and in her life and countenance, it shows.
When the kids were younger, I used to take them to the fabric store, and spend way more time there, than I had planned to. I've got a thing for fabric, always did. Back then, the kids liked playing hide n seek in the bolts all around me, but now they go to look at fabric themselves. They also like the buttons and the rainbow of colored columns of thread. Mary just stands there and fiddles with them. You'd think we drive the clerks crazy, but they never complain.
I love this store because it represents the islands, and the many, many flavors here. The varied array of fabric says to me, "There are so many ways to live here, we can all live together, and this place is better and cooler because of it." There are the batiks, and quilting fabrics and velvets that line the back wall. On the right of the store are the huge hanging bolts of the thicker upholstery fabrics, of the more sophisticated island prints.
On the left wall are the shiny shinies- sequined and beaded fabrics, and fabrics with an Asian flair, like red satin with dragons emblazoned on them. And in the middle are every kind of poly cotton, island or Polynesian, print you can think of, in every color- with surfboards and surf mobiles, and hula girls and leis, and hibiscus and plumeria, and fish and ocean scenes, and traditional mat and tapa designs, and on and on. It's a cool, colorful and happy place.
Happy Monday everyone! Have a colorful and happy week.
This weekend we went to my niece's 2nd year birthday party. It was a pool party and most of my kids, and a lot of nieces and nephews, aged from about seven to early twenties, were in the water. They were playing football and having a lot of fun. I sat there and listened to the things they said to each other; and watched the way they treated one another. It was sweet and happy. Each one of them had a beauty, inside and out, and it was a joy to look at them, to watch them, to hear their laughter and their words. The big ones included the little ones in their teams; they were careful not to hurt them in their play; they answered their questions, and gave them turns, and treated them like equal team members- and had so much fun doing it. They really churned up the water. My heart was filled with their happiness, and I laughed too.
It was getting late, and I noticed that the light had faded to dark, and the pool had begun to glow blue with its underwater lights. It was about 8pm when they all climbed out. We thanked our hosts, gave our hugs and farewells all around, and headed home. It had rained sometime in the neighboring town- the street lights reflecting on the road, the sizzling sound of tires rolling along the wet asphalt. The windows were down, and the night air velvet soft. We passed a fruit stand, the only one still open, and I smiled at the string of Christmas lights strewn over the front of the booth- to light up the dark, and to let customers know that a late night snack of bananas was still available. Christmas in May. A happy thought.
We've been sick. It's been rainy. Yesterday the air felt like a
misty blanket enveloping us- so thick with moisture, it felt like tiny raindrops were suspended all around us. The air was soft and
beckoning. It called us from our sickbeds, inviting us out into the
open; so we decided to go for a ramble. One of the places we went to
was Kualoa Ranch. Kualoa is the Hawaiian word for "long back"
describing the Ranch's majestic mountains.
I know I've said, at least a hundred times, that the rain makes everything
more beautiful. When the sun comes out, it magnifies and intensifies
colors- but the sun wasn't out yesterday. This day was different. The
colors were deep, but muted. The day felt shrouded and romantic- the
gray clouds softening edges, cloaking the mountaintops, and veiling the
entire sky. There was a quiet grandeur about it all, and I felt
grateful to be out in it. Here are some scenes from the day.
The ranch's visitor center, restaurant and gift shop see busloads of visitors each day.
The welcoming sight at Kualoa's entrance.
One of the sites used by the crews for the latest movie being filmed at
the ranch. They just broke down the tents and hauled off the trailers.
A few of the many horses roaming Kualoa.
Kualoa Regional Park, across the street from the ranch.
Mokoli'i, popularly known as Chinaman's Hat, is the little islet just off the shore from the park.
After an illness, on days like this,
I feel more grateful than ever to be alive,
to have a body,
to be able to breathe air and life deeply into my lungs,
On the Saturday before Easter Sunday, as I was just heading out to grocery shop, Mary pointed out to me that there was a huge egg hunt going on that morning in the community, she was just saying. There has been so much going on, and I had completely forgotten to plan a hunt for her, or to even think about taking her to one. So I went shopping, bought the food, came home, had the older girls fill the eggs and hide them, and gave out last minute invitations to Mary's friends. ("Did you have a hunt yet?" "No?" "Want to come over and have one?" "Yes?" "Don't come for another hour, we're hiding eggs.") Six kids showed up and they ran all over the place, looking in every nook and cranny they could find. After everything was found, they ate their eggs, and drew pictures in chalk, all over our driveway. Mary was very happy. I couldn't have done it without my girls. Even during the hunt they were helping the little ones- holding their hands, and sometimes their baskets, telling them when they were hot or cold, and sometimes pointing straight at the eggs. One of our little friends (in the blue cookie monster t-shirt) was a little unsteady on his little legs, but that didn't stop him from running full speed down our driveway. He had a will of his own, and he didn't want me to touch his basket, or to keep him from running straight off the edge of some steps. I had to catch him a couple of times, but he was adorable, and I loved that he came.
The following day, we went to church and talked about Jesus. We talked about how what transpired in the Garden of Gethsemane, and on the cross, affords each of us hope- hope for second chances, for redemption; and about how what transpired in the tomb ensures each of us a physical resurrection. Resurrection, Redemption-He paid an excruciating, unfathomable price to offer us these gifts. I don't know what it was like for Him, I can't know. One thing I do know, is that He doesn't want me to whip myself over my mistakes, He's already taken those stripes for me. He wants me to sincerely repent and move on. He wants me to heal, to be happy; and He wants me to be good- as good as I can be, as much as I can be- like Him. He wants me to look forward to the day when I rise after death, and am reunited with my loved ones, including Him, especially Him.
Here's a video of the final moments of Jesus Christ's life,
and some scenes after His resurrection.
So after all the candy is eaten, the banners and balloons taken down, the plastic eggs put away, what then? How do we go on after Easter? How will we go on? Will it be to adorn our heads with the same old crowns of thorns that we're used to wearing, telling ourselves, in our minds, that we are "no good," "without hope," and "can never change," labeling our foreheads with thorny words like unworthy, undeserving, unloved? If only we would take them off and let them go. We don't need to wear or bear them. Christ's suffering brought Him complete understanding of each of us- He has overwhelming compassion for each of us, in all that we've been through, and all that we're going through. He can and will bear our burdens-
if we let Him.
How will we go on? Will it be to forgive others? Will it be to forgive ourselves? Can we give each other, especially those closest to us, the benefit of the doubt? Can we pray and sing, and dance and laugh, and shaka, a whole lot more? Can we turn the other cheek? Can we be good like Jesus? I can answer for myself, "I can try." I know I'll stumble at times, over the pavement, scrape up my knees, and
cry like a baby; but I know He'll be there to pick me up- sometimes even catching me before I hit the concrete, drying my eyes, patiently offering to carry my basket, if I'll just give it to Him; and on really bad days, carrying me- if I'll let Him; never forsaking me, holding my hand, pointing out hidden treasures, redirecting me from pitfalls, and helping me all along the way- every single day. After Easter, and all my life through, I'll give Him my all, because He has, and always does, give me His-
Just felt like sharing the view with you. I hope these bring you peace and make you happy.
My son, Enoch, just home from his mission- spending time with his sisters.
Elena and Mary birdwatching at the lake at the botanical gardens.
More birdwatching.
Mary exploring. Ironwoods in the background and their pinecones all over the sand.
Some of the many kamani trees that line the coast.
Mary brought me this flower. I kissed her head, put it behind her ear and took this picture.
The kids and their cousins going for a Sunday stroll. Elena and my nephew walk arm-in-arm. Jesse lags behind waiting for me. She always waits for me.
Some mornings Mary has a hard time getting up and ready for the day. I often find Elena, speaking softly to her and braiding her hair.
Kindness is a lovely word. It melts my heart just looking at it. It's even more beautiful in action. Sometimes I forget to be kind, and when that happens, God reminds me. He reminds me by all the incidences I mentioned above. He reminds me every time I'm crabby and my family isn't crabby back. He reminds me in the grocery store when they bag my stuff and say, "have a nice day," and I feel like they really mean it; or in the parking lot when someone makes eye contact and smiles and waves, even though I know we don't know each other; or when I see someone on the roads give way, so someone else can merge or make their turn in time.
I feel good every time I see the shaka flash.
Most of all, God is kind. My whole life, even the difficult stuff, is a testament of it. He shows me kindness every time understanding comes after the trial. He shows me kindness every time I feel moved by beautiful music, or I see the
sunlight glowing on the green. He shows me kindness when I read good books to my children about love and honor and sacrifice, and I have to pause because I get choked up. It all just softens me and I know again, how kind and good He truly is. God is the source of all kindness, a veritable wellspring of it. I've learned that if I open myself to it, I can be a little rivulet branching off of the fountainhead- spreading kindness wherever I go. And since kindness is so very contagious, who knows what other little streams may branch off in the process. Today could bring a deluge sweeping across the land.
Elena took a bunch of pictures while we were driving around this past week, and I thought you might want to take a ride with us. The truth is, I'm kind of a homebody, actually, really really a homebody. When I do get out, I sometimes get lost. I know it's an island, how hard can it be? Well there are all these intersecting lines called roads and they jumble and tangle and unless I have an eagle's eye view, they don't make any sense to my brain- it just doesn't compute for some reason.
So yeah, driving stresses me out. I'd rather go for a long walk or a hike than drive, in a whole lot of traffic, to somewhere I've never been. I've been known to go the wrong direction on one way streets, and some other embarrassing mishaps that I won't go into. It's just not fun for me. That's why praying while I drive is second nature to me. Prayer has saved me from ending up on the opposite side of the island than I intended to be on. It's saved me from accidents. It's literally saved my life on the roads, more times than I can count, and I'm sure, more times than I'm aware of. It's helped me find my way again and again. I don't get lost nearly as much as I used to, because I know now not to try it on my own- tried it, it doesn't work so well. I pray, study the map (I don't trust our GPS) and follow the signs. It's a system that works for me. I do my part and He does His, and I find my way.
We're a team- He and I, and even though I feel like He's the navigator and I'm just sitting in the driver's seat following directions, it's me who allows Him to do the navigating, and I still have to do the driving. It's my life after all, and He would never take the choice of where I go or the route I choose to get there, from me. He doesn't work that way. The choice is always up to me. I can still say, "No, I think I'll make a turn here," even though the sign clearly says not to. We all know where that kind of driving leads to.
Sometimes when I'm out on the road, I think about the people in the cars around me. We're all on the road together, being guided in certain directions, doing our own thing, following our own paths. I could never keep track of the mass mess that the traffic appears to me, but God can. He knows where each of us are and where we're headed. If we ask for directions, He'll give us signs along the way and help to get to where we need to go, and most importantly- find our way home.
