An Acceptable Conclusion

This has been a pretty good summer. . . aside from the heat. We've been able to find ways to amuse ourselves; movies, shopping, hanging out with the a/c running (love it!) or going to the beach. Trayse and I headed out to Makaha Beach to cool our heals and just enjoy the day. . . together.


It was the day after the 4th of July and the beach was practically empty! I mean Makaha Beach on a 4 day weekend: no surfers, no canoe paddlers, no boogie boarders. Unheard of!  But I'll take it!  Just a few scattered groups, and with more than enough sandy beach to go around. So, we headed straight for the water, didn't even hesitate. It was cool, refreshing water so clear you could see your feet touching the bottom. There was a lot of floating and drifting going on between the two of us.

Trayse loves the ocean as much as I do. Our swimming abilities are about the same: dog paddle and floating. We both believe we could float on forever if we had to. Luckily no one's ever put that theory to the test.

The hardest part about being at the beach is leaving it . . . or rather getting Trayse to get out of the water. A bit of finagling had to happen; like telling Trayse wouldn't be cool to write her name in the sand? We had to do it a few times, the waves were not cooperating. But we finally got the shot!

"John, leave it alone."

It's not easy letting things go: grudges, heartache, blame, denial, pain, mistakes, failure, insecurities, hate, disappointment, fear, shame, anger, pride, envy . . . the list is endless. We hold onto such things as though it were the driving force of life. We wrap ourselves up in them and find ourselves unwilling to lay aside our burden.

I've hung on to my self-justification for why I stayed mad, for why I couldn't reach my goals, for why I would not put down the burden. This is my personal revelation that the counsel "leave it alone" or "let it go" is often the most difficult to accept or execute, but it really is the only means to find inner peace and acceptance.

It brings to mind the story of a young man who found love, family and a new beginning. When tragedy knocked on his door with the loss of his wife, a new baby girl and a life now as a young, single father he directed his pain and anger toward the doctor who had failed to keep his wife alive. His grief festered and anger began to seep into every crack and crevice of his life.

One night a family friend called on this grieving, heartbroken young father. The words of comfort and counsel from the family friend was this: "John, leave it alone. Nothing you do about it will bring her back. Anything you do will make it worse. John, leave it alone."

The young father struggled with himself. He then decided that whatever else life brought to him, he would heed the counsel he was given.

Now, well into his years, the once heartbroken, young father related this story to a friend. "I was an old man, before I understood it!...I could finally see a poor country doctor--overworked, underpaid run ragged from patient to patient with little medicine, no hospital, few instruments, struggling to save lives, and succeeding for the most part. He had come in a moment of crisis, when two lives hung in the balance, and had acted without delay."

"I was an old man," he repeated, "before I finally understood! I would have ruined my life," he said, "and the lives of others."

Being able to leave it alone, or let it go takes practice and a lot of patience; two attributes that I often lack and need plenty of. But I recognize that it's a process of developing a whole new mindset...getting a better look at the whole picture instead of just snapshots. It can sometimes be a long, hard road before we reach that moment. Experience has shown me how my life becomes entangled when I refuse to leave it alone or let it go and I have felt the calmness in my life when I've chosen to follow John's example.

A Witness and a Warning

Nothing good every comes from being awoken from a sound sleep at 3 o'clock in the morning. And the phrase "I have some bad news" or "a tsunami is coming" really puts a strong emphasis on that point. I missed taking early morning shots of everyone milling around up at Makakilo park at 5 in the morning, mostly because I was still so tired and was nearing the ever allusive REM sleep when a knock on my door woke me.

We had set up our little band of tsunami-ites near the bus stop area. Traffic was starting to build as more and more people made their way from the lower shoreline and up the hill. Sitting on blankets that were spread out on the cold grass, I tried to grab a few minutes of sleep. But something about sleeping on the cold, hard ground just wasn't working for me. I remember thinking as I looked out at the homes across the street from the park, "Man are those people going to be surprised when they look out their doors and windows to see all of us sleeping at the park!"

As the early hours weened on, I surveyed my fellow evacuee's; the thought of "displaced refugees" came to mind. It was a cold, silent morning as rows of colored blankets and pillows covered the ground beneath the swings and overflowed onto the playground. You almost didn't notice that there were several families already there because it was so quiet. It made me wonder, if the tsunami does hit, then how long? How long would be here? Days? Weeks? Would they relocate us to a shelter? I tried to calm my mind, keep my thoughts from frantically running away. I kept an eye on the slow rising sun and wondered how the morning would unfold. Breakfast was fast approaching.

As morning gained a foothold on the day, I watched a few more trucks and vans pull up on the grassy area and set up tents and grills. We would all be here for the duration . . . however long that would be. The radio station kept us updated on the tsunami. They had estimated the tsunami's arrival around 11:30 am, it would hit Hilo first and then Oahu. As it neared the arrival time, we all headed up to the back of the park that had an unobstructed view of the ocean.

When the hour arrived and then past, I breathed a sigh of relief. But I still couldn't shake the feeling that this was a warning of "things yet to come". I'm sure there are those who probably saw this whole evacuation event as a waste of time and money, but it's no longer a matter of "if" but "when". It behooves us all to have our house in order, to be prepared. I don't mind telling you that the ordeal has put me in a different frame of mind. I'm not sure what frame of mind that is, but it's not the "let's wait and see".

The Best Kind of Friends . . .

are the ones you didn't realize would become the "best kind of friends." It often surprises me that I know such really great people. For example, I have a great group of friends that I've know since the fourth grade. Granted, and we would all agree, that in the fourth grade we had a different opinion on friendship - and quite possibly on each other. But now, life . . . and our experiences have brought us closer to each other than any of us would have imagined.

 And sometimes, the hardest friends to find, make, and even keep is -- family. With family, we tend to shine the light more glaringly on faults and weaknesses; not to mention the easy access we have to those "emotional buttons" that we are quick to push again and again, and then just because we can -- we push it again. But when the stars align, and all is right with the universe, our greatest asset and our greatest champions and friends will be family.  And sometimes, we count friends as family.

But not all friendships are long-lasting. We find friends in the most unlikely of places and through the most unlikely individuals. They became momentary friends, because they were a friend of a friend. It's the mixture and unusual concoction that created the lasting memories of smiles, laughter and even disbelief that "I know those people" or "I use to hang out there." Look at the smiles on those faces . . . it's true; it's genuine.  No matter the circumstance, or the duration of the time, the outcome was that we've become the best kind of friends.  I must be living under a blessed star!

Two wrong feet

I step outside the door to start my day and I can't help but be a little positive that it's going to be a great day; and why shouldn't it be a great day? It's early morning, the sun has yet to show it's bright, shiny face. And for once I am on time for the early morning commute to work . . . on public transportation no less. I love public transportation!

The work day goes on as expected: phone calls, paper work, 1st break; phone calls, paper work, lunch break; phone calls, paper work, 2nd break; phone calls, paper work, work day is over. I'm back on the bus for the long ride home. No worries though, because the bus isn't crowded and I get my usual seat. I take out my book to read and before I know it the bus is pulling up to my stop.

It's a short walk from the bus to my front door. Ah, the front door. Nearly 12 hours later and I am at the doorstep of where my entire day began, my front door. I'm relieved . . . that emotion is soon followed by the feeling of mortification because I now realize that I have been walking around with two different slippers on my feet.

I did something very spectacular today . . .

I was reacquainted with some very dear friends from school. The last time I saw them we where 13 years old. High school was our next big hurdle and soon we would be caught up with new challenges, new friends, and a new life that would become all encompassing.

It's been nearly 30 years since we've seen each other. Our paths have led us down very different roads of which the terrain has not always been sure-footed. And yet, beyond the space of time and differences, our friendships seem to have grown deeper and feel more meaningful. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote,

"Not chance of birth or place has made us friends
Being oftentimes of different tongues and nations,
But the endeavor for the selfsame ends
With the same hopes, and fears, and aspirations."

I can't help but think that Mr. Longfellow must indeed have had a great many cherished friendships because his words are insightful and wise. I can hardly remember what we were all like back then; what we thought, what we said, what we found funny, or serious. Those memories are like blurry fringes around the corners of my mind. But, I think I can hear the laughter, or see the smiles, or even smell the aroma of shortbread cookies at lunch time. I can vividly recall the tears for a dear classmate that left this world far sooner than any of us would have liked. He is our clarity. He is our center. He is our most cherished memory.

Standing together with my friends, reminiscing about "life back when" I couldn't help but feel very proud of that moment. Does that sound odd? It feels odd saying it. I can't think of any other way to describe that sensation. Do you know that feeling you get like somethings pushing on your chest from the inside trying to get out? Sort of like that. I looked from one friend, to another, and then another. They were talking football, golfing, kids, wives, other old friends that they still haven't seen and it was as if time had never passed us by.

My friend's mother passed away. Today was her funeral. I wanted to be there and show my love and support. I sat through the services thinking of dad and my heart broke to think that my friend was feeling the same loss, grief and pain. After the funeral services we all stood together as friends, and I couldn't help but feel very proud of that moment.

John Ed Pearce wrote . . .

"home is the place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to."

I don't regret leaving. I don't regret wanting to know if there was more life to be lived somewhere other than here. There was. And I did. It was so much more than I ever expected.

I was thrilled to see the seasons change; watch the colorful transformation of leaves; feel the chill of winter's first storm as it rolled down from the mountains and then blanket the city in white. I perspired in the dry desert heat and hid from the threat of lightening storms.

I made friends with the most amazing people I never dreamed I could have met. I grew strong, confident, self-aware, and calm. I had reached such great heights and plummeted to heart-breaking lows, and somehow, I still came out ahead. I strengthened, stretched and tested my relationship with God. And I'm standing at the other end of my trials in full knowledge of God's love for me, and His willingness to forgive, and His belief that I am a far better person than I know myself to be.

Widening my comfort zone became a necessity and a personal challenge. I had to lay aside my typical habits of limiting my involvement in life and in the lives of others. The world had a whole new outlook. It was large and small at the same time. I felt the change too, I was the same yet different. Being open to new ideas, challenges, people, and possibilities eventually made me ready to turn my sights toward home.

Even in pursuit of the unknown, somewhere in the back of my mind I always knew that I'd make it home again. Returning was a dream, a goal, a "someday" possibility. Life away from home had given me the courage to actualize my dream. No longer would I just "wish" that I would return home. Instead, I knew that as I pursued my life goals, returning home would be just a matter of time. I needed to plan and be patient. I needed to implement everything that I had learned and put them into motion. And when a way opened up, I needed to be aware of it and then act on it.

And so, here I am in Nanakuli with the threat of a tropical storm in the weather forecast. It's been 1 month and 17 days since I've been home. Already, I've sat under a tree in the backyard with my 11 year old niece, Trayse-Anne, and picked out shapes in the clouds, we took turns reading to each other from a book I bought her from the country store down the road. We walked across the street to the beach where we saw two turtles. We watched the sky turn several different shades of color at the end of the day, and quietly sat in our chairs under the tree as the sun sank behind the mountain until it was out of sight. And just when I thought the summer days were over, she wanted to walk out under the stars and have me point out the Big Dipper.

I ask you, could life be any sweeter than it already is?

I'll let you know. Aloha!!!