Because I'm an AVON rep and also work part-time from home as a District Assistant for AVON, the Christmas craziness begins for me in August. It starts slowly with much anticipation of seeing the Christmas product line-up. But somewhere around Halloween, it picks up speed. Then Thanksgiving comes and the pace moves so quickly and the stress builds so steadily that it is almost unbearable.
This is my tenth Christmas as a rep and my sixth as an assistant. Every Christmas, I tell myself, this is it. This is my last Christmas. I'm going to quit before next Christmas. And inevitably next Christmas comes and I get on the roller coaster.
Sometimes, I let the stress of it all rob me of the anticipation of Advent and the joy of Christmas. That is why I set out to accomplish as much of my Christmas to-do list as early in the season as possible. My goal in shopping early, sending cards early and decorating early is to get to a point in December when there's nothing left to do but relax and enjoy the season. The challenge then becomes to say no to extra busy-ness in those last days of Advent and to not again load my plate with stress.
To me, Christmas is magical, but its magic is fragile. It can easily be lost, broken, or otherwise damaged if we are not careful. And like Matthew Broderick's character in "Deck the Halls," I have a tendency to schedule the magic right out of the holiday. Last night, as I was tidying up the kitchen for the umpteenth time, that was what God laid on my heart. I felt He was saying, "I know you're pouring yourself into this season, trying to make every memory magical, trying to create a Christmas the kids will never forget and working at building meaning into everything you do this Christmas. But what are you missing out on?" My heart responded, "the joy."
I can spend day and night decorating, baking, wrapping and caroling in a good-hearted attempt to make Christmas special for my kids but if I alienate them in the process, what good have I done?
That's why when I read "Selah in the Sky" in InTouch Magazine this morning, I felt like it was written just for me. The author wrote from my heart as she did from hers. So today I am going to selah the wonder of Christmas. Join me?
Friday, December 21, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
I Think I Can
I know this is an odd photo to post. But I took this picture this morning of my "command central" where all my tasks and to-dos await completion on a daily basis. When life gets really hectic, as it has been the last few weeks, this area ends up looking like a dumping ground. The piles of papers, books, bills, checks, Avon orders, church stuff, school stuff and other random things grow and grow until I'm literally stacking things on top of other things just to have room for more things that need to be done. Scott hates my "command central" and I don't blame him. It eats up valuable counter space and it's not pretty to look at, but it's convenient. If I put something there I know it will be accomplished. If I put it on my desk in my office upstairs, I will forget about it. If I put it in the file trays in the pantry, I know it will get lost. If I pin it to the bulletin board, it will get holes in it. So I stack it in priority order on the counter.
But what makes this picture so great is that "command central" was virtually empty this morning. All that's left are my cookbooks and grocery list because all I have left to do this Christmas season is bake. And for me, that is hardly a chore.
Today is the last day at breakneck speed. Starting tomorrow, I can shift into a lower gear and coast into Christmas with a smile on my face.
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
"The Little Engine that Could" is without question my most favorite childhood book. My aunts and grandmother read it to me tirelessly and I really believe it shaped my outlook on life. I don't give up easily. I push and push to get something done even when everyone says it can't be done. Uphill, downhill, it doesn't matter. Forward motion is all that counts.
Of course, even the Little Engine couldn't do it without help. He had the toys to cheer him on, the smiles of those waiting kids to encourage him. Me? I have my family. I know I could not have survived the past through weeks without the love and encouragement of my husband, parents and kids. Without their support, I couldn't have chugged along.
And more than that, I serve this awesome God. I'm certain He's given me extra minutes in long busy days so I could get everything done on my list. I know He's given me sound and peaceful sleep and restored my energy when I wake in the morning.
I can, I can, I can! I knew I could, I knew I could, I knew I could.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
A Salve to My Soul
Here's something about me that may surprise you. I suffer from anxiety. On the outside I probably look like I have it all together. But if you had been standing in my kitchen on Monday morning, you would have thought differently.
It was snack time. The kids were at the counter eating bananas and chattering on about something. I went to pour them some milk but instead had an anxiety attack. My heart was racing, I was crying and felt like I couldn't breathe. Quickly I turned my back to the kids as to not freak them out any more than I already had and sent Scott a text message. When he called me back, I couldn't even tell him what was bothering me or what sent me into panic land. And when normalcy (whatever that is) returned, I was exhausted, feeling like I'd just run a marathon.
I wish I could tell you that Monday was a one time deal for me. But it isn't. Anxiety stalks me. It's always lurking in the shadows. Sometimes it's nothing more than a fleeting feeling of impending doom. Other times it's tears. And sometimes it's worse.
But it always goes away. God always rescues me from its grip. I always find peace and usually it comes to me through music or sometimes through verses I memorized as a kid.
Tuesday I was in a fog all day. Just feeling tired and run down. As I drove home from homeschool gym, one of my favorite songs came on the radio.
Tonight, though, was my favorite. Locked in our junk room adjacent to the garage, I was sorting Avon for a big fundraiser I just hosted. I had my MP3 player going when a song from my childhood started playing. My mom bought Amy Grant's "Age to Age" cassette when I was almost six years old. We played it endlessly in her Lincoln and eventually learned every word to every song on that album. So when "Arms of Love" came on tonight, that's exactly what it felt like. It felt like a great big hug from God Almighty. It was like He was saying, "I held you then, I'll hold you now." And all the anxiety just melted as I stood there singing off-key all by myself, surrounded by tubes of lipstick.
These instances are like a balm you rub on a sunburn. They're a salve to my soul.
I don't know why I'm sharing this with you. I just felt you needed to know. Maybe there's something you're struggling with, maybe you battle anxiety or depression or some other variety of the enemy's arsenal. Maybe you just need to be reminded of God's mercy and grace. Or maybe you just need a supernatural hug. Turn up the volume on your speakers and let His arms wrap around you:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yc0Wkq_DQnM
It was snack time. The kids were at the counter eating bananas and chattering on about something. I went to pour them some milk but instead had an anxiety attack. My heart was racing, I was crying and felt like I couldn't breathe. Quickly I turned my back to the kids as to not freak them out any more than I already had and sent Scott a text message. When he called me back, I couldn't even tell him what was bothering me or what sent me into panic land. And when normalcy (whatever that is) returned, I was exhausted, feeling like I'd just run a marathon.
I wish I could tell you that Monday was a one time deal for me. But it isn't. Anxiety stalks me. It's always lurking in the shadows. Sometimes it's nothing more than a fleeting feeling of impending doom. Other times it's tears. And sometimes it's worse.
But it always goes away. God always rescues me from its grip. I always find peace and usually it comes to me through music or sometimes through verses I memorized as a kid.
Tuesday I was in a fog all day. Just feeling tired and run down. As I drove home from homeschool gym, one of my favorite songs came on the radio.
The next morning, as I sat at the table, in the quiet before the storm of our daily lives, I wrote in my journal, "Your enemy, anxiety, is like a roaring lion, sneaking around to find someone to attack." I remember reading 1 Peter 5:8 in a high school assembly when I was a junior. I never thought it would come back to me like this.How many times have you heard me cry out "God please take this"?
How many times have you given me strength to Just keep breathing?
Oh, I need you. God, I need you now.
Tonight, though, was my favorite. Locked in our junk room adjacent to the garage, I was sorting Avon for a big fundraiser I just hosted. I had my MP3 player going when a song from my childhood started playing. My mom bought Amy Grant's "Age to Age" cassette when I was almost six years old. We played it endlessly in her Lincoln and eventually learned every word to every song on that album. So when "Arms of Love" came on tonight, that's exactly what it felt like. It felt like a great big hug from God Almighty. It was like He was saying, "I held you then, I'll hold you now." And all the anxiety just melted as I stood there singing off-key all by myself, surrounded by tubes of lipstick.
These instances are like a balm you rub on a sunburn. They're a salve to my soul.
I don't know why I'm sharing this with you. I just felt you needed to know. Maybe there's something you're struggling with, maybe you battle anxiety or depression or some other variety of the enemy's arsenal. Maybe you just need to be reminded of God's mercy and grace. Or maybe you just need a supernatural hug. Turn up the volume on your speakers and let His arms wrap around you:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yc0Wkq_DQnM
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
21st Century Genocide?
I am opposed to federally-funded or federal mandates requiring insurance funding of abortion and birth control.
Let's talk about abortion first. I am not opposed to federal funding or federal mandates requiring funding for abortions because I am prolife. I am, in fact, prolife and believe human life begins at conception. I believe ending that life, at any point in the pregrancy, is indeed murder. I understand, however, that extenuating circumstances exist turning a black and white matter into one that is very, very grey. However, my prolife stance has nothing to do with my opinion on federal mandates on abortion.
Similarly, I am not opposed to birth control funding mandated by the federal goverment because I believe birth control is morally wrong. I don't. I know some people believe that using birth control violates God's will and breaks His command to "be fruitful and multiply." I'm not one of those people. I believe God can make anything happen whenever He wants and a silly little hormone pill isn't going to prevent a pregnancy if God's will is for you to be pregnant at that moment in time. But I digress. The point is, though I have no problems with birth control, namely oral contraceptives, I do have a problem with the government mandating its coverage by insurance.
When I was in college at a very liberal, all women college, a lot of my classmates had bumper stickers on their cars that read: "U.S: Out of My Uterus!" I remember not really understanding what that meant but thinking it was kind of humorous. Today, I'm shaking my fist in the air in support of such a statement.
Let me break this down for you: if we allow, or in this case ask, the government to pay for birth control and abortions, we are essentially asking them to control our reproductive abilities.
You read that right. We are inviting the government back into our uteruses. But now it's worse. Decades ago, we wanted the government to give us control of our uteruses, to grant us the freedom and the right to evict any tenant thereof. Essentially we said, "It's our uterus, it's our choice."
But now, we're saying, "It's still our uterus, it's still our choice, but now we want you to pay for it." Common sense tells us what the government pays for the government owns. So we are selling our uteruses to the government. Sadly, we think that getting free or low-cost abortions and free birth control is somehow our right. We think receiving such things gives us more freedom, allows us greater choice, and somehow liberates us.
But it doesn't! You cannot ask the government to pay for something and expect they won't tell you how to do it. That just doesn't happen. Even in the most liberal of socialist cultures, there are rules and qualifiers in order to receive welfare and social services.
So asking the government to pay for abortion andbirth control is the first step to government control of all our reproductive rights. Maybe in a few years the government will require that all women of a certain age or certain race will be required to take birth control. Or maybe they'll be required to have hysterectomies. This is already a part of our history, just google "forced sterlization in US in 20th century." Or maybe several years from now, women will be required to abort girl babies or babies who will be born with a defect. Maybe what seems like a great idea now will actually turn into genocide.
I don't know what will happen in the future, but I know that there is no such thing as a free lunch. Somebody, somewhere has to pay for it. And we might end up paying for this "choice" with our freedom.
Let's talk about abortion first. I am not opposed to federal funding or federal mandates requiring funding for abortions because I am prolife. I am, in fact, prolife and believe human life begins at conception. I believe ending that life, at any point in the pregrancy, is indeed murder. I understand, however, that extenuating circumstances exist turning a black and white matter into one that is very, very grey. However, my prolife stance has nothing to do with my opinion on federal mandates on abortion.
Similarly, I am not opposed to birth control funding mandated by the federal goverment because I believe birth control is morally wrong. I don't. I know some people believe that using birth control violates God's will and breaks His command to "be fruitful and multiply." I'm not one of those people. I believe God can make anything happen whenever He wants and a silly little hormone pill isn't going to prevent a pregnancy if God's will is for you to be pregnant at that moment in time. But I digress. The point is, though I have no problems with birth control, namely oral contraceptives, I do have a problem with the government mandating its coverage by insurance.
When I was in college at a very liberal, all women college, a lot of my classmates had bumper stickers on their cars that read: "U.S: Out of My Uterus!" I remember not really understanding what that meant but thinking it was kind of humorous. Today, I'm shaking my fist in the air in support of such a statement.
Let me break this down for you: if we allow, or in this case ask, the government to pay for birth control and abortions, we are essentially asking them to control our reproductive abilities.
You read that right. We are inviting the government back into our uteruses. But now it's worse. Decades ago, we wanted the government to give us control of our uteruses, to grant us the freedom and the right to evict any tenant thereof. Essentially we said, "It's our uterus, it's our choice."
But now, we're saying, "It's still our uterus, it's still our choice, but now we want you to pay for it." Common sense tells us what the government pays for the government owns. So we are selling our uteruses to the government. Sadly, we think that getting free or low-cost abortions and free birth control is somehow our right. We think receiving such things gives us more freedom, allows us greater choice, and somehow liberates us.
But it doesn't! You cannot ask the government to pay for something and expect they won't tell you how to do it. That just doesn't happen. Even in the most liberal of socialist cultures, there are rules and qualifiers in order to receive welfare and social services.
So asking the government to pay for abortion andbirth control is the first step to government control of all our reproductive rights. Maybe in a few years the government will require that all women of a certain age or certain race will be required to take birth control. Or maybe they'll be required to have hysterectomies. This is already a part of our history, just google "forced sterlization in US in 20th century." Or maybe several years from now, women will be required to abort girl babies or babies who will be born with a defect. Maybe what seems like a great idea now will actually turn into genocide.
I don't know what will happen in the future, but I know that there is no such thing as a free lunch. Somebody, somewhere has to pay for it. And we might end up paying for this "choice" with our freedom.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Back from Niagara
We returned from our 10-day field trip to Niagara Falls last week-end. We had a great time, saw lots of interesting things and came back exhausted.
This week friends and family have asked me about the Falls and honestly I haven't known how to answer. It is so breathtakingly spectacular that I cannot find the words to describe it. The roaring, crashing, plunging water is powerful yet peaceful. You just can't stop looking at it.
Pictures cannot capture the magnitude of magnificence that is Niagara Falls. It is untamed beauty. It is majesty unbridled. It is more than just a waterfall. Having been to Hawai'i a couple dozen times, I've seen a lot of waterfalls. But Niagara is just spectacular.
We of course did all the touristy things like take a boat ride on Maid of the Mist where we got utterly soaked. After the ride, we went to the restrooms and stood by the hand dryers. The kids thought that was hilarious. We also saw a 4-D show called Niagara's Fury which tells how Niagara Falls were formed. Of course, it's only theory and we don't completely buy it. It's much more believable that the Falls are a work of a Wondrous and Almighty God. We also went to the White Water Walk which is a boardwalk along the banks of the Niagara River, below the Falls. They are category 6 rapids. Professional rafters usually raft on category 4-5 rapids.
And we went "Behind the Falls" which was wet, slipperly and dumbfounding.
Along the way to and from Niagara, we made some more field trip stops. One was at the Bonneyville Mill, a water-powered flour mill in Elkhart, IN. Beautiful! And we also visited the Jelly Belly Warehouse in Pleasant Prairie, WI as well as 4 of the 5 Great Lakes. We already visited Lake Superior last year, so now we've seen them all. The kids also got to add 6 new states to their travel logs bringing Adam to 22 states visited in just 8 years! He's only 1 behind me. And of course we stopped at the Mall of America for our Lego Store and Disney Store fix and paid two visits to Trader Joe's. All in all, it was a wonderful vacation!
This week friends and family have asked me about the Falls and honestly I haven't known how to answer. It is so breathtakingly spectacular that I cannot find the words to describe it. The roaring, crashing, plunging water is powerful yet peaceful. You just can't stop looking at it.
We of course did all the touristy things like take a boat ride on Maid of the Mist where we got utterly soaked. After the ride, we went to the restrooms and stood by the hand dryers. The kids thought that was hilarious. We also saw a 4-D show called Niagara's Fury which tells how Niagara Falls were formed. Of course, it's only theory and we don't completely buy it. It's much more believable that the Falls are a work of a Wondrous and Almighty God. We also went to the White Water Walk which is a boardwalk along the banks of the Niagara River, below the Falls. They are category 6 rapids. Professional rafters usually raft on category 4-5 rapids.
And we went "Behind the Falls" which was wet, slipperly and dumbfounding.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Relax? Check!
I am not a "roll with the punches" kind of girl. I don't do spontaneity and I don't think anyone has ever called me "laid back." In fact, if you look up "easy-going" in the dictionary, it says "antonym: Kristy Rose." I'm serious. Go look. I'll wait.
Let me just break this down for you. I alphabetize my spices. My movies, books and CDs are organized by genre and then placed in alphabetical order. My closet is arranged by style then by color. I keep three calendars and make to-do lists. Excel is one of my favorite software packages because I make spreadsheets for everything. Like the seven-page outline for our wedding. Or the packing lists, complete with multiple check-off boxes for each item, for every trip. I spend hours obsessing over schedules and itineraries and eventually put those into spreadsheets too. I even schedule "sleep" and "relaxation." I can't help it. I like to have an order to everything.
That's probably why God called me to be an Avon lady. I can whip up a two-day delivery schedule broken into 15-minute increments in under five minutes. And then I stick to that schedule. My customers joke that they can tell the time by me. Yes, punctuality is as important as order and remaining on schedule is of top priority. I mean, why bother making a schedule or a spreadsheet if you're not going to stick to it?
In high school, I had a button on my book bag that read, "I thrive on stress." Yes, yes I do. Deadlines, timetables, lists, spreadsheets. These are the fabric of my life. Don't mess with it.
To me, life is all about the details. I know this makes me intense. Perhaps that's why the Pastor who married us suggested I join his Type A recovery group. Oh how I wish I was joking.
That said, there are three things that bring me deep relaxation and relief. I mean the kind of relaxation that sinks deep into your bones and makes your soul sigh. That's the kind of relaxation a Super Type A like me needs.
Baking gives me deep joy and relief from my world of order. I know most people believe cooking is an art and baking is a science. But for me, baking is an art. An art from the deepest place in my heart.
Being in the water, whether it's pool, ocean, lake or river, washes away the stress and compulsion. I remember taking a class on Watsu (water-based massage) and the teacher said, "wow, girl, you really let go when you get into the water." At the time, she was performing watsu on me and noticed how every muscle in my body just melted and glided through the water.
Yet there is one thing that takes me to a tranquil place even more than baking or water. You guessed it. Hula. When I hula, I forget there's a world around me. I forget to think. I let go of planning. I just dance. My body responds to the music as though it was created for hula. My hips keep time, my hands tell the story and I step-together-step-touch into another world.
That's why hula worship has struck such a deep chord in my soul. The music leads me to a meditative mindset and my hands tell the story of my Awesome Creator and Savior. When I dance and sing praise to God, I feel this calming yet invigorating energy move through me and fill me up. It's Aloha. (read last week's post to understand)
Hula worship to me is like melting into Him and finally taking a breath, finally resting in His love and grace.
Let me just break this down for you. I alphabetize my spices. My movies, books and CDs are organized by genre and then placed in alphabetical order. My closet is arranged by style then by color. I keep three calendars and make to-do lists. Excel is one of my favorite software packages because I make spreadsheets for everything. Like the seven-page outline for our wedding. Or the packing lists, complete with multiple check-off boxes for each item, for every trip. I spend hours obsessing over schedules and itineraries and eventually put those into spreadsheets too. I even schedule "sleep" and "relaxation." I can't help it. I like to have an order to everything.
That's probably why God called me to be an Avon lady. I can whip up a two-day delivery schedule broken into 15-minute increments in under five minutes. And then I stick to that schedule. My customers joke that they can tell the time by me. Yes, punctuality is as important as order and remaining on schedule is of top priority. I mean, why bother making a schedule or a spreadsheet if you're not going to stick to it?
In high school, I had a button on my book bag that read, "I thrive on stress." Yes, yes I do. Deadlines, timetables, lists, spreadsheets. These are the fabric of my life. Don't mess with it.
To me, life is all about the details. I know this makes me intense. Perhaps that's why the Pastor who married us suggested I join his Type A recovery group. Oh how I wish I was joking.
That said, there are three things that bring me deep relaxation and relief. I mean the kind of relaxation that sinks deep into your bones and makes your soul sigh. That's the kind of relaxation a Super Type A like me needs.
Baking gives me deep joy and relief from my world of order. I know most people believe cooking is an art and baking is a science. But for me, baking is an art. An art from the deepest place in my heart.
Being in the water, whether it's pool, ocean, lake or river, washes away the stress and compulsion. I remember taking a class on Watsu (water-based massage) and the teacher said, "wow, girl, you really let go when you get into the water." At the time, she was performing watsu on me and noticed how every muscle in my body just melted and glided through the water.
Yet there is one thing that takes me to a tranquil place even more than baking or water. You guessed it. Hula. When I hula, I forget there's a world around me. I forget to think. I let go of planning. I just dance. My body responds to the music as though it was created for hula. My hips keep time, my hands tell the story and I step-together-step-touch into another world.
That's why hula worship has struck such a deep chord in my soul. The music leads me to a meditative mindset and my hands tell the story of my Awesome Creator and Savior. When I dance and sing praise to God, I feel this calming yet invigorating energy move through me and fill me up. It's Aloha. (read last week's post to understand)
Hula worship to me is like melting into Him and finally taking a breath, finally resting in His love and grace.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Living Aloha?
Even though I'm a lover of all things Hawai'i and Polynesian, I've often wondered what it meant to "Live Aloha." It wasn't too long ago, while reading a book about the Big Island, that I figured out what that saying meant. Before you can know what "live aloha" means, you need to understand the meaning of aloha and its antithesis haole.
The word aloha though used mostly as a greeting, its literal translation is much deeper than just "hello" or "goodbye." The word actually "breath of life." Conversely, the derogatory term "haole" means "breathless." Haole (how-lee) is what islanders call white people. When the first white men arrived on the islands, they were dressed in heavy, stiff clothes with tight collars. To the laid back islanders, the white people looked like they were struggling to breathe.
Living aloha means to live and treat each other with love and respect. It means to connect mind and heart in a compassionate, considerate way. It means to spread love around to everyone.
When I think about "aloha" and "haole", I think about passion. I think of living aloha as meaning living with passion. I think of "haoles" as people who are living life without passion. We all know people who are haoles. They go through life, one day to the next, rather robotic about everything. And when you ask them what they are living for, they look at you blankly. That's a haole.
Job 33:4 says "For the Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of Almighty gives me life."
Aloha means "breath of life" and my Almighty Father breathed life into me, so I strive every day to live with passion, to live with love.
The word aloha though used mostly as a greeting, its literal translation is much deeper than just "hello" or "goodbye." The word actually "breath of life." Conversely, the derogatory term "haole" means "breathless." Haole (how-lee) is what islanders call white people. When the first white men arrived on the islands, they were dressed in heavy, stiff clothes with tight collars. To the laid back islanders, the white people looked like they were struggling to breathe.
Living aloha means to live and treat each other with love and respect. It means to connect mind and heart in a compassionate, considerate way. It means to spread love around to everyone.
When I think about "aloha" and "haole", I think about passion. I think of living aloha as meaning living with passion. I think of "haoles" as people who are living life without passion. We all know people who are haoles. They go through life, one day to the next, rather robotic about everything. And when you ask them what they are living for, they look at you blankly. That's a haole.
Job 33:4 says "For the Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of Almighty gives me life."
Aloha means "breath of life" and my Almighty Father breathed life into me, so I strive every day to live with passion, to live with love.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
What Happened to that Plan?
Sitting in church today, I asked myself, "Whatever happened to that dream of being a nurse-missionary in Africa?" And I couldn't figure out the answer.
That was the one career dream I kept coming back to in high school. Oh yes, I was as fickle then as I am now. I'd also wanted to be a podiatrist (why?!), a production assistant (um, ok), a journalist (been there done that not for me), a corporate mogul (that is another post for another day) and President of the United States (ok, I still daydream about that one).
But being a nurse in Africa resonated with me. So why did I forsake that dream? I think it was a perfect storm.
I was accepted to two nursing programs but turned them both down after spending a summer as a candy-striper at Summit Medical Center. So I went to a liberal arts school thinking I'd go pre-med.
My college adviser scared me to death when I said I was thinking pre-med. I remember leaving her office in tears. She even terrified my dad. And he isn't easily scared.
One of my closest friends at the time told me the medical field didn't seem like a fit for me.
Half-way through my freshwoman year at Mills--it's an all-girls college, so yes, we were called freshwomen--my grandmother had a series of strokes and it was during that crazy time that I declared my major. Perhaps I would have chosen differently if I hadn't had that emotional stress weighing on me. Who knows?!
I'm not saying I regret my choices because I don't. It's just I'd forgotten about wanting to be a nurse in Africa until this morning. And I couldn't remember why or when I let go of that aspiration. Ironically, my grandmother had also wanted to be a nurse-missionary in Africa. This is something I didn't know about her until we sat and chatted one afternoon after she had her strokes. She too couldn't think of why it didn't happen.
It's funny how life bends and shifts. Ironic how the future looks nothing like we imagined it would. Yet comforting to know the Big Guy has it all under control. It's all in His hands. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll pursue that Africa plan.
That was the one career dream I kept coming back to in high school. Oh yes, I was as fickle then as I am now. I'd also wanted to be a podiatrist (why?!), a production assistant (um, ok), a journalist (been there done that not for me), a corporate mogul (that is another post for another day) and President of the United States (ok, I still daydream about that one).
But being a nurse in Africa resonated with me. So why did I forsake that dream? I think it was a perfect storm.
I was accepted to two nursing programs but turned them both down after spending a summer as a candy-striper at Summit Medical Center. So I went to a liberal arts school thinking I'd go pre-med.
My college adviser scared me to death when I said I was thinking pre-med. I remember leaving her office in tears. She even terrified my dad. And he isn't easily scared.
One of my closest friends at the time told me the medical field didn't seem like a fit for me.
Half-way through my freshwoman year at Mills--it's an all-girls college, so yes, we were called freshwomen--my grandmother had a series of strokes and it was during that crazy time that I declared my major. Perhaps I would have chosen differently if I hadn't had that emotional stress weighing on me. Who knows?!
I'm not saying I regret my choices because I don't. It's just I'd forgotten about wanting to be a nurse in Africa until this morning. And I couldn't remember why or when I let go of that aspiration. Ironically, my grandmother had also wanted to be a nurse-missionary in Africa. This is something I didn't know about her until we sat and chatted one afternoon after she had her strokes. She too couldn't think of why it didn't happen.
It's funny how life bends and shifts. Ironic how the future looks nothing like we imagined it would. Yet comforting to know the Big Guy has it all under control. It's all in His hands. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll pursue that Africa plan.
Friday, September 7, 2012
I Miss You, My Hawai'i
Aloha! It's Friday!
Last night, I had a dream about Iz. You know Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, the guy who sings "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" with that sweet angelic voice? Yes, him. I had a dream and he was in it. When I woke, I didn't remember the details of the dream, but I had this deep longing in my heart for Hawai'i.
It's just like the song, I miss you, my Hawai'i. So I went through the photos I have saved on my laptop from some of our trips and thought I'd share a few with you. Come, visit my Hawai'i with me.
1979: My first visit to the islands
1981: My sister's first visit to the islands
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1989: my sister and I have always been water-lovers. I'm pretty sure we have gills. This hotel was in Honolulu. The pool is on the roof!
1993: on our Hawaii vacations, Karianne and I would always pretend we were twins and we'd give ourselves new Hawaiian names. Karianne's was always Kali but I don't remember what mine was.
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Last night, I had a dream about Iz. You know Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, the guy who sings "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" with that sweet angelic voice? Yes, him. I had a dream and he was in it. When I woke, I didn't remember the details of the dream, but I had this deep longing in my heart for Hawai'i.
It's just like the song, I miss you, my Hawai'i. So I went through the photos I have saved on my laptop from some of our trips and thought I'd share a few with you. Come, visit my Hawai'i with me.
1979: My first visit to the islands
1981: My sister's first visit to the islands
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1983
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2001: Though Scott had been to Hawai'i once as a child, he'd never been to Kaua'i until he went with our family in 2001. This photo was taken on Polihale beach.
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2002: Our honeymoon to Maui
2004: Adam's first Hawai'i trip
And now, a little music. Click here.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Ding Dong...Hope Calling
Today was one of those days when I remembered why I sell Avon. It's not because I love the products (to which I am actually addicted). It's not for the money (that has paid for a lot of extras). It's because of my customers. Today was an exhausting, emotional day but I came home feeling rewarded. Exhausted, but content.
My morning started off pretty smoothly until I got to my usual 10:30 appointment and her husband greeted me at the door with, "She's not here. She's in the hospital. She had a stroke last night." I literally staggered backwards and grabbed onto the railing to steady myself. He told me she's okay and will be fine, but as soon as I got into the car, I started to cry.
"I need a new job," I told my mom. "If my customers are going to start having strokes on me, it's time for a new job." I'm just so darn attached to them. They're like family.
My next stop was one of my favorite Avon Grandmas. She has pictures of my kids on her fridge, tells everyone their her great-grandchildren and she calls me "babe." Seeing her was salve to my sad soul.
From there I went to my next regular stop, rang the bell and waited. When I didn't here Ann call for me to come in, I knew something was not right. Rang the bell again. No answer. Called her from my cell phone and left a message to call me when she got back.
I re-grouped over lunch then continued on with my day. At my second stop of the afternoon, my second favorite Avon Grandma shared her burdens with me. Her sister, also one of my customers, had her first chemo treatment for her stage four cancer yesterday. Her husband who is in a home because of severe alzheiemer's doesn't recognize her anymore and today he told her to go home. We hugged, said "I love you" and away I went.
On to Doris' house. Doris is 82 and was recently diagnosed with osteoporosis. This diagnosis deflated her for a few weeks because she'd never had to take any sort of medication until then. But today, she called to me from her side yard as I got out of my car and then waved at me kind of crazy like and walked out of sight. I followed. What do you know? Doris was painting the trim of her house. By herself. In the heat. She told me about the painters who ripped her off and left the trim undone. Then as I said goodbye, she asked, "Kristy, do you have a cell phone?" I told her I did and she told me she needed me to come into the house with her and help her find her missing cell phone. So that's what we did. There it was under the couch. She again told me the story of the painters who ripped her off then asked if it was too hot outside for her phone. I wanted to say, "it's too hot outside for you but not your phone." I didn't of course. I just gave her a hug and left her laughing at a joke.
Next was Jim and Jan's house. Jim was sitting on the porch drinking a beer when I walked up. He's 80-something and has dementia. I've never seen him drink a beer before. He followed me into the house talking about beer and once Jan and I got into our Avon mode, he disappeared into the garage. She sighed and said, "Finally some peace." Then she cried. His dementia is worsening and suddenly he's decided he needs to have a beer or two every day. The doctor said it was okay but it's making everything harder on her. Jan is my third favorite Avon Grandma. We usually swap recipes and talk about cooking. Today I sat with her for forty minutes while she vented about her husband's failing mind. When I got up to leave, she said, "Maybe I should have the beer." We laughed heartily.
A few stops later, I arrived at my regular 2:30 appointment. Virginia's husband came to the door and told me she wasn't home. She was at the hospital with her dad who was having serious heart troubles again. We chatted a bit about this latest heart problem and I went on my way.
Now I had some extra time so I called to see if Anne had gotten home. Indeed she had. She too had been at the hospital. Her sister's husband had been admitted and her other sister's husband was being discharged. She was the taxi.
By the time I made it to my 3:30 appointment, I'd heard of two more loved ones being in the hospital for serious illnesses and I didn't know if I could take much more. Bonnie was my last stop of the day and had just gotten home from a funeral. It was the second one she'd been to in a week. I told her how my grandfather used to say, "I just don't want to answer the phone anymore. It's just going to be someone telling me so-and-so died." She smiled weakly and said, "that's just about it." She's 80-years-old and said that they go to at least two funerals a month. I told her about homeschooling and she told me how proud of me she is for taking on a monumental task.
On the way home, I recounted my day. Suddenly it occurred to me why I'm always so tired when I come home from delivering Avon. It's more than just delivering lipstick to me. It's delivering a little bit of hope.
My morning started off pretty smoothly until I got to my usual 10:30 appointment and her husband greeted me at the door with, "She's not here. She's in the hospital. She had a stroke last night." I literally staggered backwards and grabbed onto the railing to steady myself. He told me she's okay and will be fine, but as soon as I got into the car, I started to cry.
"I need a new job," I told my mom. "If my customers are going to start having strokes on me, it's time for a new job." I'm just so darn attached to them. They're like family.
My next stop was one of my favorite Avon Grandmas. She has pictures of my kids on her fridge, tells everyone their her great-grandchildren and she calls me "babe." Seeing her was salve to my sad soul.
From there I went to my next regular stop, rang the bell and waited. When I didn't here Ann call for me to come in, I knew something was not right. Rang the bell again. No answer. Called her from my cell phone and left a message to call me when she got back.
I re-grouped over lunch then continued on with my day. At my second stop of the afternoon, my second favorite Avon Grandma shared her burdens with me. Her sister, also one of my customers, had her first chemo treatment for her stage four cancer yesterday. Her husband who is in a home because of severe alzheiemer's doesn't recognize her anymore and today he told her to go home. We hugged, said "I love you" and away I went.
On to Doris' house. Doris is 82 and was recently diagnosed with osteoporosis. This diagnosis deflated her for a few weeks because she'd never had to take any sort of medication until then. But today, she called to me from her side yard as I got out of my car and then waved at me kind of crazy like and walked out of sight. I followed. What do you know? Doris was painting the trim of her house. By herself. In the heat. She told me about the painters who ripped her off and left the trim undone. Then as I said goodbye, she asked, "Kristy, do you have a cell phone?" I told her I did and she told me she needed me to come into the house with her and help her find her missing cell phone. So that's what we did. There it was under the couch. She again told me the story of the painters who ripped her off then asked if it was too hot outside for her phone. I wanted to say, "it's too hot outside for you but not your phone." I didn't of course. I just gave her a hug and left her laughing at a joke.
Next was Jim and Jan's house. Jim was sitting on the porch drinking a beer when I walked up. He's 80-something and has dementia. I've never seen him drink a beer before. He followed me into the house talking about beer and once Jan and I got into our Avon mode, he disappeared into the garage. She sighed and said, "Finally some peace." Then she cried. His dementia is worsening and suddenly he's decided he needs to have a beer or two every day. The doctor said it was okay but it's making everything harder on her. Jan is my third favorite Avon Grandma. We usually swap recipes and talk about cooking. Today I sat with her for forty minutes while she vented about her husband's failing mind. When I got up to leave, she said, "Maybe I should have the beer." We laughed heartily.
A few stops later, I arrived at my regular 2:30 appointment. Virginia's husband came to the door and told me she wasn't home. She was at the hospital with her dad who was having serious heart troubles again. We chatted a bit about this latest heart problem and I went on my way.
Now I had some extra time so I called to see if Anne had gotten home. Indeed she had. She too had been at the hospital. Her sister's husband had been admitted and her other sister's husband was being discharged. She was the taxi.
By the time I made it to my 3:30 appointment, I'd heard of two more loved ones being in the hospital for serious illnesses and I didn't know if I could take much more. Bonnie was my last stop of the day and had just gotten home from a funeral. It was the second one she'd been to in a week. I told her how my grandfather used to say, "I just don't want to answer the phone anymore. It's just going to be someone telling me so-and-so died." She smiled weakly and said, "that's just about it." She's 80-years-old and said that they go to at least two funerals a month. I told her about homeschooling and she told me how proud of me she is for taking on a monumental task.
On the way home, I recounted my day. Suddenly it occurred to me why I'm always so tired when I come home from delivering Avon. It's more than just delivering lipstick to me. It's delivering a little bit of hope.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Post-Home Economics
Recently, I read an article in Cooking Light magazine entitled "Bring Back Home Ec!" by Hillari Dowdle. You can read it yourself by clicking here. While reading, I was nodding my head in agreement, mumbling "you got that right" and even applauding. Yes, I enjoyed it thoroughly.
Here's the thing: we did mess up an entire generation (at the very least) by removing home economics from school. In this post-home economics, post-modern world, there is at least one generation that doesn't know how to sew, cook, or keep house. Dowdle's article focused on nutrition and how learning basic cooking skills go hand-in-hand with basic nutrition. Intriguing to say the least.
I got to thinking about my own middle school and high school experiences and the home economics classes offered. In the 7th grade, I signed up for home ec, but one of my mom's friends talked me out of it because she wanted me to take yearbook of which she was the teacher.
"You don't need that stuff. Your grandma can teach you how to cook and sew," she told me one afternoon before school started.
And, in some ways she was right. I was lucky enough to have a mom, grandma and great aunts who taught me to clean, cook, bake and sew. They also tried to teach me to garden, but somehow that didn't "stick." I probably failed, if not then, certainly now.
After my 8th grade year, home economics was removed from our middle school/high school campus. That was 1990, folks. And it was removed because there was very little interest in the class, and that had been the case nationwide for a decade. So it makes sense that schools would get rid of an unwanted program for something in demand like computer skills or even art.
But it's sad and I think Dowdle's right when she says "we lost out on something important." Yes, those girls and boys who opted out of home ec, whose schools didnt' offer home ec or whose mother or grandmother didn't teach her home ec skills, lost out not only on learning those skills but also on passing them down to their own daughters and sons. Think about that for a minute.
If Molly didn't receive any cooking, sewing or baking training from school or home, now that she's grown up with a daughter of her own, Susie, she can't even teach Susie how to do the things she didn't learn to do. And unless Susie learns those skills in school she won't be able to pass it down to her children. Can you say "microwave ready" or "heat-and-eat"? Well Molly and Susie know those words well because unless they teach themselves to cook by watching you-tube videos (how else do you learn how to do something in the 21st century?) that's all they'll ever know how to cook.
As for feminism and sexism, please, I don't have the time or energy to discuss that in this blog. But let me say this, cooking, cleaning, baking, sewing and caring for children are basic skills that both genders should learn. My husband knows how to sew. Does that make him less of a man? No. If anything, it makes him manlier because he doesn't need his mommy or his wife to do it for him. (though I am happy to hem his pants or patch his jacket)
So, leave sexism in the 20th century and bring back home ec.
Here's the thing: we did mess up an entire generation (at the very least) by removing home economics from school. In this post-home economics, post-modern world, there is at least one generation that doesn't know how to sew, cook, or keep house. Dowdle's article focused on nutrition and how learning basic cooking skills go hand-in-hand with basic nutrition. Intriguing to say the least.
I got to thinking about my own middle school and high school experiences and the home economics classes offered. In the 7th grade, I signed up for home ec, but one of my mom's friends talked me out of it because she wanted me to take yearbook of which she was the teacher.
"You don't need that stuff. Your grandma can teach you how to cook and sew," she told me one afternoon before school started.
And, in some ways she was right. I was lucky enough to have a mom, grandma and great aunts who taught me to clean, cook, bake and sew. They also tried to teach me to garden, but somehow that didn't "stick." I probably failed, if not then, certainly now.
After my 8th grade year, home economics was removed from our middle school/high school campus. That was 1990, folks. And it was removed because there was very little interest in the class, and that had been the case nationwide for a decade. So it makes sense that schools would get rid of an unwanted program for something in demand like computer skills or even art.
But it's sad and I think Dowdle's right when she says "we lost out on something important." Yes, those girls and boys who opted out of home ec, whose schools didnt' offer home ec or whose mother or grandmother didn't teach her home ec skills, lost out not only on learning those skills but also on passing them down to their own daughters and sons. Think about that for a minute.
If Molly didn't receive any cooking, sewing or baking training from school or home, now that she's grown up with a daughter of her own, Susie, she can't even teach Susie how to do the things she didn't learn to do. And unless Susie learns those skills in school she won't be able to pass it down to her children. Can you say "microwave ready" or "heat-and-eat"? Well Molly and Susie know those words well because unless they teach themselves to cook by watching you-tube videos (how else do you learn how to do something in the 21st century?) that's all they'll ever know how to cook.
As for feminism and sexism, please, I don't have the time or energy to discuss that in this blog. But let me say this, cooking, cleaning, baking, sewing and caring for children are basic skills that both genders should learn. My husband knows how to sew. Does that make him less of a man? No. If anything, it makes him manlier because he doesn't need his mommy or his wife to do it for him. (though I am happy to hem his pants or patch his jacket)
So, leave sexism in the 20th century and bring back home ec.
Friday, August 24, 2012
First Week at Providence Academy
Yes, I know it's Friday. Aloha Friday to be precise. But today, I'm not going to herald you with Hawaiian folklore or share my Hawai'i memories with you. Instead, I want to tell you about Providence Academy.
Providence Academy is our brand new homeschool and we've just finished our first official week of school.
The decision to homeschool was nothing short than providential. For years, even before we had children, we considered homeschooling. It intrigued us. It also scared us. And we convinced ourselves that it wasn't for us. But it still came up from time to time, and as time wore on, we met more and more homeschoolers. We admired them. I was horribly jealous.
I won't bore you with the details, though you might chuckle when I tell you on Adam's first day of kindergarten, I stood in the kitchen, sobbing into a dishrag and while I mumbled, "I can't do this." I've dreaded every first day of school from preschool until this year.
Well, as it often occurs this way with God, doors just kept closing. Signs just kept pointing us in the direction of homeschooling until one day, the door to "traditional" school slammed squarely in our faces. I, of course, was once again crying. First they were tears of hurt, anger and disappointment. But as God's undeniable peace washed over me, I cried tears of joy. We were finally going to do what He had been calling us to do!
So, that's more or less how we ended up in this position and it explains why we decided to name our homeschool Providence.
We've now completed our first official week with success and joy. The days were peaceful, enjoyable and seamless. We already did our first science experiment and had our first field trip. The kids have told us repeatedly that they are so happy we are homeschooling. Oh, trust me, I know every day won't be as wonderful. I know there are many rough spots ahead. But I also know we can weather any and every storm through the power of God.
Providence Academy is our brand new homeschool and we've just finished our first official week of school.
The decision to homeschool was nothing short than providential. For years, even before we had children, we considered homeschooling. It intrigued us. It also scared us. And we convinced ourselves that it wasn't for us. But it still came up from time to time, and as time wore on, we met more and more homeschoolers. We admired them. I was horribly jealous.
I won't bore you with the details, though you might chuckle when I tell you on Adam's first day of kindergarten, I stood in the kitchen, sobbing into a dishrag and while I mumbled, "I can't do this." I've dreaded every first day of school from preschool until this year.
Well, as it often occurs this way with God, doors just kept closing. Signs just kept pointing us in the direction of homeschooling until one day, the door to "traditional" school slammed squarely in our faces. I, of course, was once again crying. First they were tears of hurt, anger and disappointment. But as God's undeniable peace washed over me, I cried tears of joy. We were finally going to do what He had been calling us to do!
So, that's more or less how we ended up in this position and it explains why we decided to name our homeschool Providence.
We've now completed our first official week with success and joy. The days were peaceful, enjoyable and seamless. We already did our first science experiment and had our first field trip. The kids have told us repeatedly that they are so happy we are homeschooling. Oh, trust me, I know every day won't be as wonderful. I know there are many rough spots ahead. But I also know we can weather any and every storm through the power of God.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Aloha Friday: Henry Opukaha'ia
Aloha, it's Friday! Today I want to tell you about Henry Opukaha'ia also known as Henry Obookia. In case you're wondering how to say his last name, it's pronounced this way: oh-poo-kuh-huh-ee-ah)
Henry was born on the Big Island of Hawai'i, on the opposite side from our last story, in the 1790s. When he was about 10 years old, there was a war on the island. During this war, Henry's mother and father were killed in front of him. He strapped his baby brother to his back and escaped. But his brother was killed by another soldier's spear. Henry was then put under the care (some records say he was taken prisoner) of the soldier who killed his parents. Talk about an uncomfortable situation.
Well, that didn't last long because Henry discovered he had an uncle who was kahuna (priest/leader) at a nearby heiau (temple) and he was sent to live with him. On a visit to an aunt in a neighboring village, he witnessed said aunt's death when she was thrown off a cliff by a soldier for violating a kapu law. He escaped the solider and returned to his uncle's home. He says in his memoir that that's when he began to dream of living somewhere else.
When he was 16, he boarded a merchant ship and spent the next few years sailing the Pacific. While onboard, he became friends with a Christian sailor, Russel Hubbard who taught Henry to read and write using the Bible.
In 1809, the ship landed in New York and was sold. Henry went to live with the Captain of the ship and continued to learn English. Now that he could read and write, he began to explore religion.
He said, "Hawai'i gods. They wood-burn. Me go home, put 'em in fire, burn 'em up. They no see, no hear, no anything. On a more profound note he added, We make them (idols). Our God-he make us."
In 1814, after traveling throughout Connecticut farming and studying, he began speaking publicly and worked on translating the Bible into Hawaiian. By 1815 he'd finished writing his book, "Memoirs of Henry Obookiah." And in 1817, he was among Hawaiian and American students training as missionaries to spread the gospel around the world and back home in Hawaii. One account of his life says that from the time Henry discovered Christianity he had a deep desire to take the truth back to his homeland so they could be liberated from kapu.
Unfortunately Henry died of typhus in 1818 but his life and his faith inspired 14 missionaries to take the gospel to Hawaii. His work at translating the Bible into Hawaiian was a terrific aid in printing primers and Bible stories in Hawiian.
The connection to last week's story? Those 14 missionaries sailed aboard the Thaddeus and landed on the Big Island in March of 1820, just six months after Kamehameha II abolished the kapu system.
Well, that didn't last long because Henry discovered he had an uncle who was kahuna (priest/leader) at a nearby heiau (temple) and he was sent to live with him. On a visit to an aunt in a neighboring village, he witnessed said aunt's death when she was thrown off a cliff by a soldier for violating a kapu law. He escaped the solider and returned to his uncle's home. He says in his memoir that that's when he began to dream of living somewhere else.
When he was 16, he boarded a merchant ship and spent the next few years sailing the Pacific. While onboard, he became friends with a Christian sailor, Russel Hubbard who taught Henry to read and write using the Bible.
In 1809, the ship landed in New York and was sold. Henry went to live with the Captain of the ship and continued to learn English. Now that he could read and write, he began to explore religion.
He said, "Hawai'i gods. They wood-burn. Me go home, put 'em in fire, burn 'em up. They no see, no hear, no anything. On a more profound note he added, We make them (idols). Our God-he make us."
In 1814, after traveling throughout Connecticut farming and studying, he began speaking publicly and worked on translating the Bible into Hawaiian. By 1815 he'd finished writing his book, "Memoirs of Henry Obookiah." And in 1817, he was among Hawaiian and American students training as missionaries to spread the gospel around the world and back home in Hawaii. One account of his life says that from the time Henry discovered Christianity he had a deep desire to take the truth back to his homeland so they could be liberated from kapu.
Unfortunately Henry died of typhus in 1818 but his life and his faith inspired 14 missionaries to take the gospel to Hawaii. His work at translating the Bible into Hawaiian was a terrific aid in printing primers and Bible stories in Hawiian.
The connection to last week's story? Those 14 missionaries sailed aboard the Thaddeus and landed on the Big Island in March of 1820, just six months after Kamehameha II abolished the kapu system.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Ancient Religion Abolished During Dinner
Aloha, it's Friday! Time for some Hawai'i history!
Shortly before the first Christian missionaries ever set foot on Hawai'i, the Hawaiian monarchy abolished its ancient religion in a bloody, historical battle.
Hawaiian religion is based on a system called "kapu" which means "forbidden." It was comprised of various laws and most violations were punished only by death. Hawaiians believed in stringent enforcement for even a single violation was needed because the gods would punish the whole community with natural disasters if they didn't strictly punish the violator. One of the kapu laws was that men and women could not eat together. In fact, it was kapu for women to eat bananas and coconuts just as men were forbidden to eat certain fish. The kapu system originated some time around 1300 and was isntituted by the ali'i. Ali'i means chiefly class. So in other words, the royalty of Hawai'i convinced the rest of the Hawaiians that they were sacred and that everyone had to follow the laws they instituted or the entire people would be punished by the gods. Gee, how many times have we heard that story?
King Kamehameha I (also known as Kamehameha the Great) conquered the islands and formed the Hawaiian nation in 1810. Some believe that he was the promised king, the one whose birth would be announced by a comet. (sound familiar?) History tells us that Halley's comet was visible in Hawai'i in 1758 and Hawaiian history says Kamehameha was born in November of that year. Although, some historians say he was born some twenty years earlier. But that's not the point. The point is, the Hawaiian people thought this was the great king who was going to unify the islands (he did) and establish a kindgom (he did), and so they had much respect for him and esteemed him greatly. That is why no one even though to suggest ending the kapu system while he was alive.
Captain Cook had arrived on the Big Island in 1778 unaware of the kapu laws and accidently violated many of them. When the island was not devastated by tsnumi, earthquake or other natural disaster, many Hawaiians figured out that the gods were not enforcing the kapu laws. Some historians even suggest that the Hawaiian people started to doubt the gods existed at all. Fast forward some forty years....
In 1819, Kamehameha the Great died and very shortly after that, his favorite wife Ka'ahumanu and her "sister-wife" Keopuolani convinced King Kamehameha II (son of the Great and Keopuolani) to abolish kapu. Their suggestion was for him to eat publicly with them. And he did. So the message was sent throughout the land that kapu was hereby abolished. Not long after this famous dinner, Kamehameha II had the heiaus (temples) and idols demolished.
But, as with anything, there were those who were upset about the end of kapu. Kekuaokalani who was Kamehameha II's cousin and heir to the throne should Kamehameha die, objected strongly to the abolition. His cohorts encouraged himt o "seek the throne" or in other words, have the king assasinated.Though he refused to order an assasination, he started a battle.
The battle occured near Kailua-Kona when Kamehameha II's forces went to intercept Kekuao's forces. In battle, Kekuao was wounded. His wife ran out and fell at his side, begging for their lives to be spared. Instead, Kamehameha's forces executed both of them and kapu also died that day.
About four months later, the first Christian missionaries landed on Hawai'i. Now if that isn't a God-thing, I don't know what is. I'll tell you more about these first missionaries next Friday.
Sadly, this historic site is in the middle of a resort area as you can tell from the photo.
Shortly before the first Christian missionaries ever set foot on Hawai'i, the Hawaiian monarchy abolished its ancient religion in a bloody, historical battle.
Hawaiian religion is based on a system called "kapu" which means "forbidden." It was comprised of various laws and most violations were punished only by death. Hawaiians believed in stringent enforcement for even a single violation was needed because the gods would punish the whole community with natural disasters if they didn't strictly punish the violator. One of the kapu laws was that men and women could not eat together. In fact, it was kapu for women to eat bananas and coconuts just as men were forbidden to eat certain fish. The kapu system originated some time around 1300 and was isntituted by the ali'i. Ali'i means chiefly class. So in other words, the royalty of Hawai'i convinced the rest of the Hawaiians that they were sacred and that everyone had to follow the laws they instituted or the entire people would be punished by the gods. Gee, how many times have we heard that story?
King Kamehameha I (also known as Kamehameha the Great) conquered the islands and formed the Hawaiian nation in 1810. Some believe that he was the promised king, the one whose birth would be announced by a comet. (sound familiar?) History tells us that Halley's comet was visible in Hawai'i in 1758 and Hawaiian history says Kamehameha was born in November of that year. Although, some historians say he was born some twenty years earlier. But that's not the point. The point is, the Hawaiian people thought this was the great king who was going to unify the islands (he did) and establish a kindgom (he did), and so they had much respect for him and esteemed him greatly. That is why no one even though to suggest ending the kapu system while he was alive.
Captain Cook had arrived on the Big Island in 1778 unaware of the kapu laws and accidently violated many of them. When the island was not devastated by tsnumi, earthquake or other natural disaster, many Hawaiians figured out that the gods were not enforcing the kapu laws. Some historians even suggest that the Hawaiian people started to doubt the gods existed at all. Fast forward some forty years....
In 1819, Kamehameha the Great died and very shortly after that, his favorite wife Ka'ahumanu and her "sister-wife" Keopuolani convinced King Kamehameha II (son of the Great and Keopuolani) to abolish kapu. Their suggestion was for him to eat publicly with them. And he did. So the message was sent throughout the land that kapu was hereby abolished. Not long after this famous dinner, Kamehameha II had the heiaus (temples) and idols demolished.
But, as with anything, there were those who were upset about the end of kapu. Kekuaokalani who was Kamehameha II's cousin and heir to the throne should Kamehameha die, objected strongly to the abolition. His cohorts encouraged himt o "seek the throne" or in other words, have the king assasinated.Though he refused to order an assasination, he started a battle.
The battle occured near Kailua-Kona when Kamehameha II's forces went to intercept Kekuao's forces. In battle, Kekuao was wounded. His wife ran out and fell at his side, begging for their lives to be spared. Instead, Kamehameha's forces executed both of them and kapu also died that day.
About four months later, the first Christian missionaries landed on Hawai'i. Now if that isn't a God-thing, I don't know what is. I'll tell you more about these first missionaries next Friday.
Sadly, this historic site is in the middle of a resort area as you can tell from the photo.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Aloha Friday: Found the Famous Santa Photo!
Aloooooooooooha! It's Friday!
We were camping last Friday so I didn't post anything, but look what I found! The picture of Adam with Santa from my June 29 post.
We were camping last Friday so I didn't post anything, but look what I found! The picture of Adam with Santa from my June 29 post.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Aloha Friday: The Story of Keli'i
In November 2004, we went to Kaua'i to celebrate Thanksgiving. Adam was barely seven-months-old at the time and this was his first plane ride and his first visit to Hawai'i.
Besides being a wondeful vacation, that trip holds wonderful memories and meaning. We spent the days doing what you do in Hawai'i: snorkel, visit the beach, admire the waterfalls, and swim in the pool. Adam wasn't too keen of the ocean. The fish swimming around our legs weren't exactly his cup of tea. He loved the sand though. And he looked so cute in his little aloha shirts.
He was just learning to walk on that trip. I know, seven-months-old and walking. He'd walk laps around the coffee table in our condo and waddle along the rattan sofa. And he had the most adorable t-shirt and shorts pajama set. I think I even saved it.
Since we were there over Thanksgiving, we spent one day watching the Christmas parade where Santa rides into Hawai'i. Of course, I cried. I mean are you surprised? It was a Christmas parade in Hawai'i? Hello? Total tear-jerker.
And Adam "met" Santa for the first time on that trip. I'll tell you what, I'm pretty sure that man WAS the REAL Santa. He was about 5'6" with a belly full of jelly and a real, fluffy white beard. And he was so jovial and kind. When we walked up to the photo area, he came over and said, "OK, here's how we're going to do this. I'm going to sit down. You're going to place him in my arms and back away. You're not going to say a thing. Just keep looking at him and she'll snap his picture before he even realizes I'm holding him. There won't be any tears or anything."
And what do you know? We followed his instructions and captured the most adorable first Santa picture in the world. I think one of us commented on this and he laughed (yes his belly shook) and said, "I've done it a million times." And somehow that didn't seem like an exaggeration.
(when I dig out Adam's memory box, I will post the picture)
But, Santa wasn't the only important person Adam met on that trip. There was also Mr. Figueroa. (I'm going to try not to cry while I type this)
We'd gone to a little greasy-spoon diner in Kapa'a for breakfast with my parents and I had the most delicious macadamia nut pancakes in the world. At the table behind us was a couple of middle-aged Hawaiian men having coffee. Adam was particularly jovial and charismatic that morning. (that means he was more interested in entertaining everyone than he was in eating) And for whatever reason he and the men behind him really hit it off.
Towards the end of our meal, the man wearing a dingy blue baseball cap introduced himself as Mr. Figueroa. Adam sat in his lap and we visited with this nice man for a little while. He shared bits and pieces of his life on Hawai'i and talked story with my dad.
Then he gave Adam back to us and said, "I'm going to tell you your Hawaiian name, Adam. You are called Keli'i."
I must have said something like "I thought his name was Atamu" because Mr. Figueroa smiled and said, "Keli'i means little chief. And that's what you are."
Scott, my parents and I all laughed when he said this. In just a few minutes, he'd figured out our little man. Our little chief.
Scott said to him, "Wow, you know him well!" And Mr. Figueroa just smiled and nodded.
Mahalo nui loa Mr. Figueroa for the memory. Adam is Keli'i of our hearts.
Besides being a wondeful vacation, that trip holds wonderful memories and meaning. We spent the days doing what you do in Hawai'i: snorkel, visit the beach, admire the waterfalls, and swim in the pool. Adam wasn't too keen of the ocean. The fish swimming around our legs weren't exactly his cup of tea. He loved the sand though. And he looked so cute in his little aloha shirts.
He was just learning to walk on that trip. I know, seven-months-old and walking. He'd walk laps around the coffee table in our condo and waddle along the rattan sofa. And he had the most adorable t-shirt and shorts pajama set. I think I even saved it.
Since we were there over Thanksgiving, we spent one day watching the Christmas parade where Santa rides into Hawai'i. Of course, I cried. I mean are you surprised? It was a Christmas parade in Hawai'i? Hello? Total tear-jerker.
And Adam "met" Santa for the first time on that trip. I'll tell you what, I'm pretty sure that man WAS the REAL Santa. He was about 5'6" with a belly full of jelly and a real, fluffy white beard. And he was so jovial and kind. When we walked up to the photo area, he came over and said, "OK, here's how we're going to do this. I'm going to sit down. You're going to place him in my arms and back away. You're not going to say a thing. Just keep looking at him and she'll snap his picture before he even realizes I'm holding him. There won't be any tears or anything."
And what do you know? We followed his instructions and captured the most adorable first Santa picture in the world. I think one of us commented on this and he laughed (yes his belly shook) and said, "I've done it a million times." And somehow that didn't seem like an exaggeration.
(when I dig out Adam's memory box, I will post the picture)
But, Santa wasn't the only important person Adam met on that trip. There was also Mr. Figueroa. (I'm going to try not to cry while I type this)
We'd gone to a little greasy-spoon diner in Kapa'a for breakfast with my parents and I had the most delicious macadamia nut pancakes in the world. At the table behind us was a couple of middle-aged Hawaiian men having coffee. Adam was particularly jovial and charismatic that morning. (that means he was more interested in entertaining everyone than he was in eating) And for whatever reason he and the men behind him really hit it off.
Towards the end of our meal, the man wearing a dingy blue baseball cap introduced himself as Mr. Figueroa. Adam sat in his lap and we visited with this nice man for a little while. He shared bits and pieces of his life on Hawai'i and talked story with my dad.
Then he gave Adam back to us and said, "I'm going to tell you your Hawaiian name, Adam. You are called Keli'i."
I must have said something like "I thought his name was Atamu" because Mr. Figueroa smiled and said, "Keli'i means little chief. And that's what you are."
Scott, my parents and I all laughed when he said this. In just a few minutes, he'd figured out our little man. Our little chief.
Scott said to him, "Wow, you know him well!" And Mr. Figueroa just smiled and nodded.
Mahalo nui loa Mr. Figueroa for the memory. Adam is Keli'i of our hearts.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Freedom! Freedom!
Adam is eight and for the most part a normal boy. He loves legos, video games and baseball. He likes to build things, play in the dirt and go swimming. He's smart, relatively athletic and wildly funny. Yep, pretty typical.
Except that, until last Saturday, he didn't ride a bike. It's not that he didn't know how; he rides his green machine (big wheel) like a mad man. He just didn't want to ride a real, two-wheel bike.
Now, I'm an intense, Type A, milestone-checking-off kind of mom. And it has driven me absolutely insane that the boy refused to ride a bike. I tried everything I could think of to get him to ride: bribery, force, even mild and well-meaning ridicule. But still, he refused.
For his sixth birthday, we gave him a really cool black bike and matching helmet. He rode it with and without training wheels a couple times each then gave up after one fall. For his fifth birthday, we bought one of those tandem bikes. You know the kid-sized bike that you attach to the rear wheel of the adult-sized bike. He rode it once, crying and screaming the entire time. For his third birthday, we gave him one of those SmartCycle video games thinking he'd learn how to peddle and want to make the switch. For his second birthday, we gave him a big wheel. But still he wouldn't ride. When he bought the green machine at a rummage sale last year, I thought, "Okay, now he's going to ride a bike." Ya, I was wrong.
I talked about it with other mom friends, brainstorming about how I could get him to ride a bike. He didn't even want to talk about bike-riding much less do it. But I resolved this was one battle I would win.
So last Saturday, after breakfast, I announced we were getting the bikes out of storage and going for a ride. All of us including Grammy and Pops. Adam immediately freaks out.
Crying, whimpering, he blubbered "I can't ride a bike. I'm never going to ride a bike."
"That's fine, I didn't invite you on the bike ride," I said.
"I'm never going to ride a bike. Do you want me to die? I'll kill myself riding a bike," he persisted.
"It's okay, Adam. You weren't invited. You can stay home by yourself," I said calmly.
"Okay," he said, relieved.
"No, I mean, we all are going for a bike ride except you. So you can sit outside the locked house and wait for us," I corrected.
"Okaaaayyy," he whined.
About ten minutes later...
"Mom, I want to try and ride my bike. Will you invite me on the bike ride?"
"Sure Adam, no problem," I replied secretly smiling but knowing this battle was long from over. I envisioned getting the bike out, pleading with him to try it, begging him to stop crying. Then I would acquiesce and ask Scott to put training wheels back on the bike. The crying, pleading and begging would resume. Most of the day would be spent this way, interrupted by short rides on the bike with me running alongside like the mom in the Hallmark commercials. I was suddenly wishing I'd never opened my stupid mouth.
So, we got down the bikes. Adam looked at his bike and then at me and said, "I think I'll give it a try."
"Okay," I said trying to hide my skepticism. We were in my parents' motorhome garage. He'd only have a small area of flat smooth ground before having to pedal uphill and then onto a gravel road. Plus the seat was two years too low for him and the tires were flat. I had very, very little faith that this would be successful.
He threw a leg over, put his feet on the pedals and rode away. Yes, he rode away. On flat tires. Uphill. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I just stood there dumb-founded.
"I'm doing it! I'm riding a bike!" His glee-filled cheers woke me from my stupor.
Scott and my parents were not witnessing the miracle with me.
"Did he really just get on and start riding?" one of them asked me. (I don't remember who, I was still in shock.)
"Yes, yes he did."
And so he spent the rest of the day riding his bike all over our yard, all over the neighborhood. And when he'd stop for a rest, he'd say (again and again) "I feel so free. It's like a burden is gone." He was even heard yelling, "Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeedom!"
That's when it occurred to me that riding a bike without training wheels is like the first time we let go of our worries and let God take over. It's like just trusting Him with everything and feeling so incredibly free, like the world has finally opened itself to us. That's some amazing freedom.
Oh, and on a side note, shortly after Adam discovered he could, actually, ride a bike, Gracey decided she needed to ride a bike too. Of course she did.
Except that, until last Saturday, he didn't ride a bike. It's not that he didn't know how; he rides his green machine (big wheel) like a mad man. He just didn't want to ride a real, two-wheel bike.
Now, I'm an intense, Type A, milestone-checking-off kind of mom. And it has driven me absolutely insane that the boy refused to ride a bike. I tried everything I could think of to get him to ride: bribery, force, even mild and well-meaning ridicule. But still, he refused.
For his sixth birthday, we gave him a really cool black bike and matching helmet. He rode it with and without training wheels a couple times each then gave up after one fall. For his fifth birthday, we bought one of those tandem bikes. You know the kid-sized bike that you attach to the rear wheel of the adult-sized bike. He rode it once, crying and screaming the entire time. For his third birthday, we gave him one of those SmartCycle video games thinking he'd learn how to peddle and want to make the switch. For his second birthday, we gave him a big wheel. But still he wouldn't ride. When he bought the green machine at a rummage sale last year, I thought, "Okay, now he's going to ride a bike." Ya, I was wrong.
I talked about it with other mom friends, brainstorming about how I could get him to ride a bike. He didn't even want to talk about bike-riding much less do it. But I resolved this was one battle I would win.
So last Saturday, after breakfast, I announced we were getting the bikes out of storage and going for a ride. All of us including Grammy and Pops. Adam immediately freaks out.
Crying, whimpering, he blubbered "I can't ride a bike. I'm never going to ride a bike."
"That's fine, I didn't invite you on the bike ride," I said.
"I'm never going to ride a bike. Do you want me to die? I'll kill myself riding a bike," he persisted.
"It's okay, Adam. You weren't invited. You can stay home by yourself," I said calmly.
"Okay," he said, relieved.
"No, I mean, we all are going for a bike ride except you. So you can sit outside the locked house and wait for us," I corrected.
"Okaaaayyy," he whined.
About ten minutes later...
"Mom, I want to try and ride my bike. Will you invite me on the bike ride?"
"Sure Adam, no problem," I replied secretly smiling but knowing this battle was long from over. I envisioned getting the bike out, pleading with him to try it, begging him to stop crying. Then I would acquiesce and ask Scott to put training wheels back on the bike. The crying, pleading and begging would resume. Most of the day would be spent this way, interrupted by short rides on the bike with me running alongside like the mom in the Hallmark commercials. I was suddenly wishing I'd never opened my stupid mouth.
So, we got down the bikes. Adam looked at his bike and then at me and said, "I think I'll give it a try."
"Okay," I said trying to hide my skepticism. We were in my parents' motorhome garage. He'd only have a small area of flat smooth ground before having to pedal uphill and then onto a gravel road. Plus the seat was two years too low for him and the tires were flat. I had very, very little faith that this would be successful.
He threw a leg over, put his feet on the pedals and rode away. Yes, he rode away. On flat tires. Uphill. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I just stood there dumb-founded.
"I'm doing it! I'm riding a bike!" His glee-filled cheers woke me from my stupor.
Scott and my parents were not witnessing the miracle with me.
"Did he really just get on and start riding?" one of them asked me. (I don't remember who, I was still in shock.)
"Yes, yes he did."
And so he spent the rest of the day riding his bike all over our yard, all over the neighborhood. And when he'd stop for a rest, he'd say (again and again) "I feel so free. It's like a burden is gone." He was even heard yelling, "Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeedom!"
That's when it occurred to me that riding a bike without training wheels is like the first time we let go of our worries and let God take over. It's like just trusting Him with everything and feeling so incredibly free, like the world has finally opened itself to us. That's some amazing freedom.
Oh, and on a side note, shortly after Adam discovered he could, actually, ride a bike, Gracey decided she needed to ride a bike too. Of course she did.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Aloha Friday: 10 Year Anniversary
Aloha! It's Friday!
This past February, Scott and I celebrated 10 years of marriage. The years have gone by so fast and have been filled with so many adventures. And yet, I remember that special day (02-02-02) and the 10-day honeymoon to Maui very, very well.
The weeks leading up to our wedding were exciting. Beyond the wedding planning, bachelorette trip to Disneyland, and the stress of having to find a NEW wedding gown and dress for my mom just days before the wedding (that's another post for another time), my beloved Raiders were in the play-offs.
Superbowl was February 3 that year, the day after our wedding, the day we were leaving for Maui. My heart is pounding in my chest, just remembering the excitement and nervousness I felt. What was I going to do if the Raiders went to the Superbowl and I was stuck on a plane high above the ocean? I know you're laughing, but this was really a serious concern for me, and for Scott. I'd never missed a Raider game whether it was on TV or we were at the game, and now I might miss the biggest game of the year. So we made this plan: buy NFL Aloha shirts and drive as fast as possible to the nearest sports bar as soon as we landed in Maui.
But, then stupid Tom Brady, the referees and that ridiculous "tuck rule" booted my Raiders out of the AFC championship and I no longer had to worry about missing the biggest game of my life. (side note: the Raiders went to the Big Game in 2003, and my mom and I got to go!)
Anyway, back to the wedding and honeymoon. After our last dance to the "Hawaiian Wedding Song", we began our honeymoon. When we arrived at our condo the next afternoon, my heart fell. I'd stayed here before. In 1988 with my family. And while we were on that trip, my grandpa had died. It wasn't a memory I wanted ro relive on my honeymoon, but guess what? I did. A few days later, I got sick with bronchitis. And somewhere along there, our house in California sold and we would have to move out within 12 days of our return. My parents emailed us photos of houses they looked at for us and to view them, we went to the weirdo neighbors in the condo next door. They were an older couple, both professors of some sort, and both wore coke-bottle black-rimmed glasses. I don't think Mrs. Weirdo had bought a new outfit since 1965
But we had fun, too! We spent a night in Hana in this quaint bed-and-breakfast with floors made from coconut wood. The "town" itself was closed because of a funeral. That was so weird to us big-cty Californians. Now, having lived in North Dakota, it makes sense to us. Little towns are just that way whether on the prairie or on the islands. Then we did the unthinkable. We took our rental car and drove around the "forbidden" side of the island where the roads are really, really bad. Technically we violated our rental car agreement, but if you dont' tell, I won't either.
We did a lot of snorkeling and even snorkeled off Molokini, a volcanic crater just off the island. We swam with turtles and heard whales calling each other on that snorkel trip.
We went on these lava field hikes to snorkel along the under-water lava reefs and swim in the olivine pools.
And we had side-by-side massages oceanside.
This past February, Scott and I celebrated 10 years of marriage. The years have gone by so fast and have been filled with so many adventures. And yet, I remember that special day (02-02-02) and the 10-day honeymoon to Maui very, very well.
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| Old Lahaina Luau, Lahaina, Maui |
Superbowl was February 3 that year, the day after our wedding, the day we were leaving for Maui. My heart is pounding in my chest, just remembering the excitement and nervousness I felt. What was I going to do if the Raiders went to the Superbowl and I was stuck on a plane high above the ocean? I know you're laughing, but this was really a serious concern for me, and for Scott. I'd never missed a Raider game whether it was on TV or we were at the game, and now I might miss the biggest game of the year. So we made this plan: buy NFL Aloha shirts and drive as fast as possible to the nearest sports bar as soon as we landed in Maui.
But, then stupid Tom Brady, the referees and that ridiculous "tuck rule" booted my Raiders out of the AFC championship and I no longer had to worry about missing the biggest game of my life. (side note: the Raiders went to the Big Game in 2003, and my mom and I got to go!)
Anyway, back to the wedding and honeymoon. After our last dance to the "Hawaiian Wedding Song", we began our honeymoon. When we arrived at our condo the next afternoon, my heart fell. I'd stayed here before. In 1988 with my family. And while we were on that trip, my grandpa had died. It wasn't a memory I wanted ro relive on my honeymoon, but guess what? I did. A few days later, I got sick with bronchitis. And somewhere along there, our house in California sold and we would have to move out within 12 days of our return. My parents emailed us photos of houses they looked at for us and to view them, we went to the weirdo neighbors in the condo next door. They were an older couple, both professors of some sort, and both wore coke-bottle black-rimmed glasses. I don't think Mrs. Weirdo had bought a new outfit since 1965
But we had fun, too! We spent a night in Hana in this quaint bed-and-breakfast with floors made from coconut wood. The "town" itself was closed because of a funeral. That was so weird to us big-cty Californians. Now, having lived in North Dakota, it makes sense to us. Little towns are just that way whether on the prairie or on the islands. Then we did the unthinkable. We took our rental car and drove around the "forbidden" side of the island where the roads are really, really bad. Technically we violated our rental car agreement, but if you dont' tell, I won't either.
We did a lot of snorkeling and even snorkeled off Molokini, a volcanic crater just off the island. We swam with turtles and heard whales calling each other on that snorkel trip.
We went on these lava field hikes to snorkel along the under-water lava reefs and swim in the olivine pools.
And we had side-by-side massages oceanside.
Oh, those were the days...
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Avon, this is Ding-Dong calling!
Yes, that's pretty much how I feel today.
I dropped Adam off at school, then swung through the library drive through to drop off some books. At least one of them was overdue. The other ones I never got around to reading. About halfway home, I reached into my library bag to grab my card. My plan was to put it in my lap so I'd remember to take it into the house. I have some library searching to do and I like to request my items so they're ready for me when I go to the library.
I reach inside and what do you know, there's no library card. Not in the little wallet I keep in there. Not on the bottom of the bag. Just gone. So, I figure out that I must have returned it along with the books. Yes, that's what I must have done.
So I get home and call the library. The gal goes and looks in the bin. No card. She tells me she'll note my account and if it turns up they'll call me. Okay, fine, great. No problem.
Not even sixty seconds later, she calls. She's laughing.
She says, "Well, I went into your account to put the note in there, but there was already a note saying your card was left at the circulation desk on May 11."
Well I'll be a monkey's uncle. Or at least a monkey.
So I gave a librarian a good laugh and even chuckled at myself.
The really funny thing? As I pulled into my driveway, this song came on the radio:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Nx5M1DPg6w
I dropped Adam off at school, then swung through the library drive through to drop off some books. At least one of them was overdue. The other ones I never got around to reading. About halfway home, I reached into my library bag to grab my card. My plan was to put it in my lap so I'd remember to take it into the house. I have some library searching to do and I like to request my items so they're ready for me when I go to the library.
I reach inside and what do you know, there's no library card. Not in the little wallet I keep in there. Not on the bottom of the bag. Just gone. So, I figure out that I must have returned it along with the books. Yes, that's what I must have done.
So I get home and call the library. The gal goes and looks in the bin. No card. She tells me she'll note my account and if it turns up they'll call me. Okay, fine, great. No problem.
Not even sixty seconds later, she calls. She's laughing.
She says, "Well, I went into your account to put the note in there, but there was already a note saying your card was left at the circulation desk on May 11."
Well I'll be a monkey's uncle. Or at least a monkey.
So I gave a librarian a good laugh and even chuckled at myself.
The really funny thing? As I pulled into my driveway, this song came on the radio:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Nx5M1DPg6w
Friday, May 11, 2012
Aloha Friday: Mother's Day Edition
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| 1989: Paradise Cove Luau, O'ahu
|
My mom was hooked on Hawai'i the first time she visited. She'd start planning our next vacation pretty much the day after we got home from our last vacation. And her enthusiasm and love for the islands was highly contaigious. Within a few years of our first visit, she had the whole family, second and third cousins included, meeting up for Thanksgiving in Hawai'i. I even remember the time we had to go to the airport so she could buy our airline tickets at an extreme value. Geez. And I wonder where I get it from?
Mom's favorite island activity? Sunbathing. At the pool. At the beach. It didn't matter. She'd oil up, stretch out and soak in the rays. She'd cool off in the waves or in the pool, but only briefly, and then back to the lounge chair or beach mat she'd go. Somewhere in one of my albums, I have a picture of her yelling and waving her hands at us, shooing us away, back into the ocean so she could relax. It's a hilarious picture. I'm sure she loves that I took it. That particular day, we were suiting up to go snorkeling off Magic Sands beach on the Big Island.
Now I understand that day on a whole new level. With all of us in the ocean, she could finally relax. Smart move mom. Smart move.
Want to know what we loved to do to mom on these trips? Lure her into the ocean, usually at Hanauma Bay where the fish were so tame they'd swim right up to you, then all at once, we'd throw fish food or frozen peas at her. We'd create a ring of fish bait around her and then laugh as the fish encircled. She'd scream like a little girl and we'd laugh. Kinda cruel, but really hilarious.
Happy Mother's Day Mom. Thanks for the great Hawai'i memories. Sorry about the peas.
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1981
1991
1993
2004Saturday, May 5, 2012
Culture or Nature?
The one commandment that Americans and modern day Christians struggle with the most is probably Commandment 10: Thou shall not covet.
But the question is, do we struggle with coveting because it's part of our American culture? Or is it part of our sinful nature?
No doubt Americans are the richest people (as a whole) on the planet. For goodness sakes, we feel good about the deals we get at the Dollar Tree when there are people in other countries who only make a couple dollars a day, and some who even make less than that. And part of the American dream is to always want more.
If you own a perfectly good car, you're happy with it until your friend gets a new car. Your yard is A-OK with you until your neighbor decides to put a pool in his yard. Your house is already too big for you to keep clean but you keep looking for a bigger one because the pile of stuff you have keeps growing. Even the pharmaceutical industry has capitalized on our covetousness. Now you can diagnose yourself with a myriad of real diseases right in your family room then go to your doctor and ask for the medication you think you need. And I won't even mention the ridiculous medications out there like the one that helps you grow longer, fuller eyelashes. Seriously?!
So definitely covetousness is part of our culture. But, I think there is a major problem in blaming it all on our culture. By doing that I believe we actually breed guilt, shame and even more discontent. Then we're even more covetous of the happy, fulfilled people we see. We're depressed. We're angry. And we might even covet people and cultures who have less and are happier with less! Does that make any sense?
I think that covetousness is part of our nature. If it was only our culture than it would not have been one of God's commandments. I mean, it's in there for a reason right? Before the 10 commandments were given to Moses there was a lot of coveting going on. Jacob coveted Esau's inheritance and blessing. Joseph's gift and the favoritism his father showed him were coveted by his brothers. Cain coveted Abel. Sarah coveted Hagar. Leah coveted Rachel. And those are just the ones that come to me off the top of my head.
So covetousness has been a part of us since sin first entered the world. Our culture has, however, capitalized on our nature. Americans (and other cultures too) have made a lifestyle and a business out of covetousness. But our culture isn't the enemy. Fighting against it will not change our nautre.
It's a daily, hourly, minute-by-minute fight. We have to fight our nature while withstanding our culture. We should work on ourselves first, work on being happier with less while wanting more for others. I believe if we work at changing our nature in that way, we can actually change our culture which will further change our nature.
Our culture is not the enemy. Satan is. And he will have less influence on our culture if first we rob him of his influence on us. So let's work on ourselves, let's encourage each other. Let's focus on being happy with what we have and using it to further the kingdom. Then maybe we'll change not only our culture but the world.
But the question is, do we struggle with coveting because it's part of our American culture? Or is it part of our sinful nature?
No doubt Americans are the richest people (as a whole) on the planet. For goodness sakes, we feel good about the deals we get at the Dollar Tree when there are people in other countries who only make a couple dollars a day, and some who even make less than that. And part of the American dream is to always want more.
If you own a perfectly good car, you're happy with it until your friend gets a new car. Your yard is A-OK with you until your neighbor decides to put a pool in his yard. Your house is already too big for you to keep clean but you keep looking for a bigger one because the pile of stuff you have keeps growing. Even the pharmaceutical industry has capitalized on our covetousness. Now you can diagnose yourself with a myriad of real diseases right in your family room then go to your doctor and ask for the medication you think you need. And I won't even mention the ridiculous medications out there like the one that helps you grow longer, fuller eyelashes. Seriously?!
So definitely covetousness is part of our culture. But, I think there is a major problem in blaming it all on our culture. By doing that I believe we actually breed guilt, shame and even more discontent. Then we're even more covetous of the happy, fulfilled people we see. We're depressed. We're angry. And we might even covet people and cultures who have less and are happier with less! Does that make any sense?
I think that covetousness is part of our nature. If it was only our culture than it would not have been one of God's commandments. I mean, it's in there for a reason right? Before the 10 commandments were given to Moses there was a lot of coveting going on. Jacob coveted Esau's inheritance and blessing. Joseph's gift and the favoritism his father showed him were coveted by his brothers. Cain coveted Abel. Sarah coveted Hagar. Leah coveted Rachel. And those are just the ones that come to me off the top of my head.
So covetousness has been a part of us since sin first entered the world. Our culture has, however, capitalized on our nature. Americans (and other cultures too) have made a lifestyle and a business out of covetousness. But our culture isn't the enemy. Fighting against it will not change our nautre.
It's a daily, hourly, minute-by-minute fight. We have to fight our nature while withstanding our culture. We should work on ourselves first, work on being happier with less while wanting more for others. I believe if we work at changing our nature in that way, we can actually change our culture which will further change our nature.
Our culture is not the enemy. Satan is. And he will have less influence on our culture if first we rob him of his influence on us. So let's work on ourselves, let's encourage each other. Let's focus on being happy with what we have and using it to further the kingdom. Then maybe we'll change not only our culture but the world.
Friday, May 4, 2012
White Sandy Beaches
Aloha Friday is here again!
.jpg) |
| Kailua-Kona, Big Island - November 1993 From Left: Baba, my sister, my mom, me and family friend Steve
You already know that my most favorite island of all is Kaua'i. But my second favorite island is Hawai'i also known as the Big Island. We visited the Big Island in 1991 and in 1993. It was the last Hawaiian vacation we took with my grandma, Baba. She died in 1995. Though we've been back to the islands since she died, we haven't gone back to the Big Island. And when I think of Hawai'i (the island not the state), I think of her.
Baba and I were always buddies. I'm sure we put my mom in the middle of a lot of things. (You know the saying: what do grandparents and grandkids have in common? the enemy in the middle) But Baba and I were kindred spirits much like my little Gracey is with my mom, Grammy. But on this particular trip, Baba and I spent a lot of time together.
She liked to play tourist. So do I. She liked to talk story with the locals. So do I. She liked to shop for random junk, kitchy souvenirs and good deals. So do I. And we did a lot of that on this trip. My mom and sister had lost their luggage so the two of them were busy shopping for new clothes, so Baba and I spent a lot of time together.
I remember going with her down Ali'i Drive to a farmer's market. And we went on a submarine ride which was totally hokey but so much fun. We learned about parrotfish on that ride. And we took tons of pictures of the Painted Church. And she and I wondered around Pu'uhonua O Honaunau (you say that like this: poo-oo-hoh-new-uh oh hoh-now-now) together, taking in the peaceful beauty of this historical site.
But what I remember most was trying to teach her to swim. She had this adorable floral print swimsuit, the only swimsuit I ever remember her wearing, and she looked so cute in it. She always was at ease standing in the pool or sitting in the hot tub, but she couldn't swim. So we'd hold hands and she'd kick her feet while I walked backwards around the pool. We'd giggle like school girls.
There's an Iz song that makes me think of Baba and Hawai'i. Of course, I cry whenever I listen to it. (Are you understanding that I cry easily?) You can check it out here. And then take a look at some of the other pictures of Baba and me in Hawai'i.
.jpg) 1991 - The Painted Church 1989 - Honolulu 1989 - Honolulu |
Thursday, May 3, 2012
The Adventure Travels Upstream
Last week, we made a decision that will rock our world. But we knew with complete confidence that this decision was God-led. It is the path He's told us to walk down, and so we will go.
We've told a few people and are kind of shocked at the responses. Most have been very supporting and very understanding. But a few (and it only takes one to spoil a bunch) have not responded to our decision well, and even questioned if we're really doing what's right.
Honestly, we've been hurt by those responses. Hurt deeply. But as one friend deftly explained, "If they can't support you, were they really your friends to begin with?" Well said, friend, well said.
The bad responses have robbed us of our excitement and I've spent several nights in tears and turmoil. But then I "get a grip" and realize that I amd doing exactly what God called me to do, what He's been calling me to do for years and I've been skillfully ignoring Him.
So He went ahead and did what needed to be done. He allowed a door to be slammed in our faces, let our toes get stepped on and generally allowed us to become so uncomfortable with our current path that we had to change directions. Shortly after that door-slamming, toe-stepping moment, I found myself sitting in my car, crying and crying out to God. "Please God, I'll do this thing if that's what you're telling me to do. But please, give me utter peace so I know I'm doing the right thing." And I cried some more.
At supper, a few hours later, I felt relieved. I felt peace. I felt excitement and eagerness to get started. So I knew He not only heard my prayer, He answered it and I was indeed doing as He asked.
Yet, the comments from others still hurt, still enrage and still irritate.
On Sunday, I read the following message in my devotional book. And wow, what peacefull assurance I had that "going against the flow" was exactly what we were supposed to do. It's taken from the InTouch magazine and you can find it on the website by clicking the title below.
Oh, and in case you're wondering what our big life-changing adventure of a decision is, it's this: after this school year is over, we are going to homeschool our kids. Supportive comments only, please. :)
Going Against the Flow
Read | Psalm 62:1-6
A majority may rule in this world, but in your personal life, one Person rules--and that's God. It makes no difference if 10,000 people tell you what you ought to do. Once you have decided to follow the Lord, it's best to stand right where you are until you get marching orders from Him.
Does this mean we should never take godly counsel? No, it doesn't. It simply means that when we know God hasn't said "Move," we should not yield to the temptation to please others by following their directives for us. In other words, while seeking scriptural advice, believers should also listen for the Holy Spirit's promptings and warnings. For example, when dealing with your children, you may sense there's a time to bring up an issue and a time to hold off (Eccl. 3:7b).
Sometimes, however, a fear of failure may discourage us from doing things God's way, making us think, What if things don't turn out the way we planned or we're ridiculed by our peers? But ultimately, we must ask ourselves whether we're going to listen to God or the world. Remember, you never have to fear failure when you obey the Lord. He's the one who intervenes in times of hardship. And He promises to act in behalf of the one who waits for Him. (Isa. 64:4)
Remaining steadfast takes courage. That's why Paul said, "Be strong in the Lord," (Eph. 6:10). All the pressure in the world can't make you budge when you trust the Rock upon which you stand. If you wait for God's guidance, you can act with complete confidence of a successful outcome.
We've told a few people and are kind of shocked at the responses. Most have been very supporting and very understanding. But a few (and it only takes one to spoil a bunch) have not responded to our decision well, and even questioned if we're really doing what's right.
Honestly, we've been hurt by those responses. Hurt deeply. But as one friend deftly explained, "If they can't support you, were they really your friends to begin with?" Well said, friend, well said.
The bad responses have robbed us of our excitement and I've spent several nights in tears and turmoil. But then I "get a grip" and realize that I amd doing exactly what God called me to do, what He's been calling me to do for years and I've been skillfully ignoring Him.
So He went ahead and did what needed to be done. He allowed a door to be slammed in our faces, let our toes get stepped on and generally allowed us to become so uncomfortable with our current path that we had to change directions. Shortly after that door-slamming, toe-stepping moment, I found myself sitting in my car, crying and crying out to God. "Please God, I'll do this thing if that's what you're telling me to do. But please, give me utter peace so I know I'm doing the right thing." And I cried some more.
At supper, a few hours later, I felt relieved. I felt peace. I felt excitement and eagerness to get started. So I knew He not only heard my prayer, He answered it and I was indeed doing as He asked.
Yet, the comments from others still hurt, still enrage and still irritate.
On Sunday, I read the following message in my devotional book. And wow, what peacefull assurance I had that "going against the flow" was exactly what we were supposed to do. It's taken from the InTouch magazine and you can find it on the website by clicking the title below.
Oh, and in case you're wondering what our big life-changing adventure of a decision is, it's this: after this school year is over, we are going to homeschool our kids. Supportive comments only, please. :)
Going Against the Flow
Read | Psalm 62:1-6
A majority may rule in this world, but in your personal life, one Person rules--and that's God. It makes no difference if 10,000 people tell you what you ought to do. Once you have decided to follow the Lord, it's best to stand right where you are until you get marching orders from Him.
Does this mean we should never take godly counsel? No, it doesn't. It simply means that when we know God hasn't said "Move," we should not yield to the temptation to please others by following their directives for us. In other words, while seeking scriptural advice, believers should also listen for the Holy Spirit's promptings and warnings. For example, when dealing with your children, you may sense there's a time to bring up an issue and a time to hold off (Eccl. 3:7b).
Sometimes, however, a fear of failure may discourage us from doing things God's way, making us think, What if things don't turn out the way we planned or we're ridiculed by our peers? But ultimately, we must ask ourselves whether we're going to listen to God or the world. Remember, you never have to fear failure when you obey the Lord. He's the one who intervenes in times of hardship. And He promises to act in behalf of the one who waits for Him. (Isa. 64:4)
Remaining steadfast takes courage. That's why Paul said, "Be strong in the Lord," (Eph. 6:10). All the pressure in the world can't make you budge when you trust the Rock upon which you stand. If you wait for God's guidance, you can act with complete confidence of a successful outcome.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Well, I would never...
Remember back to before you were married? Before you were a parent? Remember those times you said, "I would never...."
Well guess what, that's a joke. Here's a short list of the things I naively said I would never do:
Does that make me a bad mom? No! It does however reveal how ridiculously naive and arrogant I was. It's easy to make a list of "I would never" statements when you've never been in that situation.
I recently overheard a first-time mom-to-be proclaim one of her "I would never" statements. I was drinking a diet coke at the time and nearly spit it out. I wanted to smile and say, "That's what you say now, but we'll see." Of course I didn't do that because it would be as annoying to her as it is to me when a non-parent offers me parenting advice.
But it did make me think of my own oversights and naivete. And I just had to smile. Been there, done that.
Well guess what, that's a joke. Here's a short list of the things I naively said I would never do:
- Let my kids drink anything besides milk or water.
- Feed them "bad carbs" like bread and white rice.
- Bribe them to get them to behave.
- Give in just so they'll stop crying or screaming.
- Let them sleep in our bed.
- Use the TV as a babysitter.
Does that make me a bad mom? No! It does however reveal how ridiculously naive and arrogant I was. It's easy to make a list of "I would never" statements when you've never been in that situation.
I recently overheard a first-time mom-to-be proclaim one of her "I would never" statements. I was drinking a diet coke at the time and nearly spit it out. I wanted to smile and say, "That's what you say now, but we'll see." Of course I didn't do that because it would be as annoying to her as it is to me when a non-parent offers me parenting advice.
But it did make me think of my own oversights and naivete. And I just had to smile. Been there, done that.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Maui the Hawaiian Superman
I was barely two the first time my family visited Hawai'i. My dad had lived there as a boy and again when he was in the army and had finally convinced my mom to give it a try. Our family was hooked instantly.
We went to Maui that year. Maui is the second most popular island for tourists with O'ahu being the first. It's also the number one honeymoon destination. And it has much to offer weary travelers like amazing swimming beaches, upscale resorts, amazing golf courses (not that I golf), the Haleakala crater, Iao Needle and of course my personal favorite, The Road to Hana and the Seven Sacred Pools.
Personally, I don't like the island except for Hana, but the legend is pretty interesting.
Maui was the youngest son and horribly hated by his brothers. See, Maui's father was never known yet his mother adored and favored him above her other sons. So of course, they became jealous of him, beat and rejected him. They were fishermen but refused to let him fish with them, so he snuck into their boat and surprised them out at sea. They still wouldn't let him fish so he broke his nose, put the blood on a hook and caught the biggest fish of all. Maui eventually earned admiration of his brothers by capturing the sun so his mother's kapa (Hawiian tapestries/cloths) would dry out and unlocking the secret of fire so future generations could have light and warmth.
If you've read the Old Testament, the Legend of Maui should sound familiar. There are many similiarities to the story of Joseph. Joseph too was the favored child, was hated by his brothers and cruelly treated by them. Maui was said to have "magical" powers while Joseph had the God-given gift of dream interpretation. Joseph's gift empowered him to change his status and eventually spare his family from famine while Maui's "magical" feats made his mother's work easier and provided for future generations.
Of course, Maui is just a legend while Joseph really lived, but it's interesting nonetheless. Listen to this fun Iz song about Maui. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHaMgCbO8PI
 |
| My dad and I on the beach in Maui in 1979. |
We went to Maui that year. Maui is the second most popular island for tourists with O'ahu being the first. It's also the number one honeymoon destination. And it has much to offer weary travelers like amazing swimming beaches, upscale resorts, amazing golf courses (not that I golf), the Haleakala crater, Iao Needle and of course my personal favorite, The Road to Hana and the Seven Sacred Pools.
Personally, I don't like the island except for Hana, but the legend is pretty interesting.
Maui was the youngest son and horribly hated by his brothers. See, Maui's father was never known yet his mother adored and favored him above her other sons. So of course, they became jealous of him, beat and rejected him. They were fishermen but refused to let him fish with them, so he snuck into their boat and surprised them out at sea. They still wouldn't let him fish so he broke his nose, put the blood on a hook and caught the biggest fish of all. Maui eventually earned admiration of his brothers by capturing the sun so his mother's kapa (Hawiian tapestries/cloths) would dry out and unlocking the secret of fire so future generations could have light and warmth.
If you've read the Old Testament, the Legend of Maui should sound familiar. There are many similiarities to the story of Joseph. Joseph too was the favored child, was hated by his brothers and cruelly treated by them. Maui was said to have "magical" powers while Joseph had the God-given gift of dream interpretation. Joseph's gift empowered him to change his status and eventually spare his family from famine while Maui's "magical" feats made his mother's work easier and provided for future generations.
Of course, Maui is just a legend while Joseph really lived, but it's interesting nonetheless. Listen to this fun Iz song about Maui. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHaMgCbO8PI
Friday, April 13, 2012
Hele On To Kaua'i
I won't lie. I miss Hawai'i horribly. Some days I miss it more than others and since we watched "Soul Surfer" again last week, I've been daydreaming a lot about my "home." By the way, if you haven't watched "Soul Surfer", you really should. It's an amazing tale of faith and triumph. I cry like a baby from the opening song to the closing credits.
This week, I am particularly missing Kaua'i. Perhaps it's because the movie is set in Kaua'i or perhaps it's just because it's my most favorite island.
On this rainy Aloha Friday, I want to share with you what I wrote in my journal when we last visited Kaua'i:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evzfGbFTr0Q
This week, I am particularly missing Kaua'i. Perhaps it's because the movie is set in Kaua'i or perhaps it's just because it's my most favorite island.
On this rainy Aloha Friday, I want to share with you what I wrote in my journal when we last visited Kaua'i:
The humidity embraces my weary body as I step off the plane. My soul sighs with relief and I begin to weep. I don't even like Honolulu with its skyrise htoels and crowded beaches, but elation drips out of me.
"Welcome home," the thick hot air whispers in my ear. I spin around looking for the voice, but there's no one. Still my heart is overcome and I whisper back, "Thank you. I am home."
On our next flight from Honolulu to Lihu'e, Kaua'i i wonder if going home to Our Lord will feel this same way. Will my soul sigh and finally feel like it can breathe? Will He whisper, "welcome home?"
Scott kisses my cheek and rushes to get the rental car. I realize we are still earthbound.So sit back a moment, and take a quick trip with me to my heartland. Take a trip with me to Kaua'i. Click the link below and let's hele on to Kaua'i....
I sit and wait. For much of my life, I realize, I've been sitting and waiting. Waiting for my soul to breathe. Waiting to hear from God what He has for me. Waiting to know my life's purpose....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evzfGbFTr0Q
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Aloha...It's Friday!
Alooooooha! Welcome to Aloha Friday!
Today, I made a stop at Goodwill. It's Gracey's favorite store, and she begs to go there. So today we went to see what we could find.
Alas, I found a treasure. A beautiful red, white and green hibiscus print pareo (wrap) that was brand new. The price? A bargain at $3.50!
It will make a beautiful covering for the pupus (appetizers) table when we have our annual Christmas Eve Luau this year.
Our luau begins with a traditional lei greeting with leis the kids and I make together out of ribbon or candy. Then everyone is served maitais and pupus which include macadamia nuts, Maui onion potato chips, egg rolls and spam. Yes, we serve spam. We talk story (visit) for awhile and last year the four of us entertained our guests by singing Silent Night. Scott played ukelele, Adam played the ipu (hollow gourd used as a rhythm instrument), I played piano and Gracey played a 1950s Hawai'i souvenir tambourine.
Then it's time to blow the conch shell and call everyone in to supper. Supper consists of kalua pork, fried rice, mac salad (macaroni salad - island style please), gingered carrots and King's Hawaiian bread. Every year I order in treats from Hawai'i (thank you ABC Store!) such as guava jam and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts to use as favors on the table. I'm telling you right now, there is nothing more comforting than the smell of guava jam and chocolate covered mac nuts. Takes me right back to the islands....
Finding Hawaiian anything in North Dakota is darn near impossible. Things like mai tai mix and guava jam have to be ordered in from the islands or California. Banana and ti leaves are nowhere to be found and they can't be shipped in, well not for a decent price anyway. So when I found my beautiful pareo today, it was an extra blessing on this Aloha Friday.
Today, I made a stop at Goodwill. It's Gracey's favorite store, and she begs to go there. So today we went to see what we could find.
Alas, I found a treasure. A beautiful red, white and green hibiscus print pareo (wrap) that was brand new. The price? A bargain at $3.50!
It will make a beautiful covering for the pupus (appetizers) table when we have our annual Christmas Eve Luau this year.
Our luau begins with a traditional lei greeting with leis the kids and I make together out of ribbon or candy. Then everyone is served maitais and pupus which include macadamia nuts, Maui onion potato chips, egg rolls and spam. Yes, we serve spam. We talk story (visit) for awhile and last year the four of us entertained our guests by singing Silent Night. Scott played ukelele, Adam played the ipu (hollow gourd used as a rhythm instrument), I played piano and Gracey played a 1950s Hawai'i souvenir tambourine.
Finding Hawaiian anything in North Dakota is darn near impossible. Things like mai tai mix and guava jam have to be ordered in from the islands or California. Banana and ti leaves are nowhere to be found and they can't be shipped in, well not for a decent price anyway. So when I found my beautiful pareo today, it was an extra blessing on this Aloha Friday.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Aloha Friday
My hula kika aloha (dear hula sister) Danielle celebrates Aloha Friday every week. I love her posts on Facebook. So I've decided to start celebrating with her.
Welcome to my first Aloha Friday!
Today it is grey and overcast in Bismarck. Not my favorite weather by a long shot.
But when I woke up this morning, it felt like Hawai'i outside. The air was heavy and sweet, the birds were singing and the ground was damp. It was gorgeous. Even Scott commented on our Hawaiian start to the day.
Of course, any mention of Hawai'i makes me homesick. It's ironic how you can be homesick for a place you've never officially called home. I suppose that's how we sometimes feel about heaven, though, too.
Thus, today I'd like to share something that has been on my heart and mind for several months: hula worship. Take a gander at this video, and if you'd like to join me in incorporating hula into how you worship our Almighty God, let me know.
http://youtu.be/D_jBdTr4V_I
Welcome to my first Aloha Friday!
Today it is grey and overcast in Bismarck. Not my favorite weather by a long shot.
But when I woke up this morning, it felt like Hawai'i outside. The air was heavy and sweet, the birds were singing and the ground was damp. It was gorgeous. Even Scott commented on our Hawaiian start to the day.
Of course, any mention of Hawai'i makes me homesick. It's ironic how you can be homesick for a place you've never officially called home. I suppose that's how we sometimes feel about heaven, though, too.
Thus, today I'd like to share something that has been on my heart and mind for several months: hula worship. Take a gander at this video, and if you'd like to join me in incorporating hula into how you worship our Almighty God, let me know.
http://youtu.be/D_jBdTr4V_I
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