Ripe

tomato My father and my joint venture into gardening this summer is bearing fruit, literally, as our tomatoes begin to ripen.

Tomato 2

It is exciting to be able to go outside and pick something that you have helped to grow, but the true meaning of this project was creating and working toward something with my father. At first, I thought it was a strange idea -- his four plants placed in our former flower bed. Then, I was bothered by the nuisance -- with his frequent traveling they became mine to nurture. Next, I found myself caught up in their care, making sure they were watered, watching them flower. Then, I was gone, my turn to travel. My father saw them to fruition and as he flew out again I was left to marvel at how far we've come.

Beauty

Sun Staring at the azure sky and sea, broken by white and yellow beams of sunlight and splashes of purple, pink, red and yellow flowers, I asked one of my Hawaiian friends if she woke every morning in awe of how beautiful her home was or if all this beauty t had become commonplace to her. She answered me honestly that on most days she didn’t think about it. It was home and she had kids to take care of and a job to do. I nodded, it was the answer I expected even though facing the sparkling, sun-soaked water, it was hard to believe.

Hana Street

But, I understood her sentiments, knowing that in the hustle of everyday life I often didn’t take the time to soak in Vermont’s green mountains, to delight in the trees and wildflowers around me, the mooing of cows, the song of grasshoppers.

woods

And, so I have been making a concerted effort to do so since I returned home. Having walked a lot in Hana, I decided to continue the tradition here. Using the time not only to exercise and pray, but also to notice the world around me.

flowers

Today, I set off to walk the stretch of road the people in my town call “The Boulevard.” It is a three-mile loop in back of my house that takes you around through the center of town and back again. Largely rural with a few paved spots, it is not exactly what a city-dweller would consider a boulevard, but it passes for one here.

aplle

I snapped some pictures as I walked and realized that I too, have become immune to a smorgasbord of beauty around me. On an average day it may not be as colorful or as brilliant as what I viewed in Hana, but like a subtle pastel or watercolor, the landscape is full of soft color and unappreciated beauty.

cornfield

Hana and Video: Journey to the Cross

I am home from Hana, albeit briefly. I leave on Tuesday for a reunion with college friends in Maine. It is hard to leave Hana behind. It has become a part of my heart. These words come so easily, can sound so cliché, but they are also true. In many ways it is a town very similar to my own – small, rural, a place where everyone knows everyone. On a lush green summer day or blanketed beneath large white flakes of snow, Vermont has its own beauty, although Hana gleams with flowers, fruits, water and sun. I walk the roads there and stumble upon plumeria and hibiscus. Here, it is wildflowers – black-eyed susans and husks of growing corn. The name of my town is Bethel, House of God. They call Hana “Heavenly Hana” and a black cross of lava stares down on the town. It is difficult not to draw symbolism from this while on a mission’s trip there. I inhale Hana’s beauty there until it has become a part of me: Hana Church, which has sprung from the work we’ve done, the young men playing in the band and leading worship, the young children, embracing me and calling my name. Our Hawaiian Ohana we call them, but this time as I greet them and am swallowed by their arms and cries, I make no such distinction. They are simply family. We are one church, one heart. Toward the end of our week in Hana we rose early to watch the sunrise over the town from the Hana Cross. Below is a video of our drive to the cross.

Husks

husk3 Home, walking through a sun-kissed field, I stumble upon them

in spontaneous concert, quiet husks swaying in the breeze.

They whisper lyrics to each other

One blushed moptop leaning into the next.

The silky fibers mingle like the sweaty strands of longhaired boys

An almost silent song.

The brush of bodies sweeps me up and carries me along.

I am happy as sun and breeze breathe hot air on my neck

To match their rhythm

To join their windswept dance.

Grazing Cattle

Grazing Cattle Maui Raised in the Green Mountains of Vermont it is not unusual to see black and white Holsteins dotting the hillsides. In Maui the scenery is a bit different and to me it is a strange site to see the cattle lining the land overlooking the water. Birds frequently gather around the cattle.

 

Hana Road

Hana Road The road to Hana is an experience in and of itself. After a 17-hour flight I will be taking this 2-hour plus amusement park ride down the road that encompasses 620 hairpin curves through tropical rainforest. In daylight the scenery is beautiful. At night the trip is nauseating! Though only 68-miles the curves and bridges that loop back on themselves at 90 degree angles, makes it seem like the longest journey of your life.