I am indeed blogging, much to the dismay of a couple of my readers. However, my sweet husband got me this computer, he enjoys my enjoyment of it, and he thinks I should keep you all up to date on this adventure.
Our flight was uneventful, with quick turn-around at San Francisco. I set the alarm for 3:00, and DC rolled out at 2:45. I thought we had plenty of time, but he pointed out that the snow was really coming down outside our windows. He hurriedly dressed, dragged his bags (which he had packed long before I even got started), had his coat and cap on, and was standing in the door of the bathroom, just watching me do my daily ministrations. I'm not a high maintenance kind of gal. I can get ready pretty quickly. But this particular morning, it wasn't quick enough! I could just see his dad doing this to his mom in his younger days. I hurried as fast as I could (forgetting all the necklaces I meant to take with me - a pendant every day is kind of my trademark), and we were on the way down the road by 3:30. The snow stopped 20 miles down the road, but continued at home, and still is from what I hear.
When we boarded the plane in SF for the 5 hour flight over the ocean, I discovered that we were ONE ROW behind the exit row - if you have long legs and claustrophobia, you can understand my frustration at this discovery. Why couldn't it have been us riding in comfort? By one row's difference?! As we took off, we discovered that the plane was far from full. We noted that the exit row on the other side of the plane (two seats, three seats, two seats) was totally empty. DC recognized my discomfort (and maybe his first clue was my constant sighing about my discomfort!), and suggested I go over there and sit. So I did. He stayed on the other side and we both slept quite a bit. I also read some, watched a crazy 30 Rock (never seen before) on the screen, and the rest of the time listened to the most amazing Christmas music on United's choices. It really helped pass the time.
We landed at noon. The entire Hawaiian Islands had been deluged with rain for the last two weeks, Wednesday being the heaviest rain and wind that many long-time residents had ever seen. We got our bags (and my hair immediately fizzled into straightness in the humidity, in spite of my perm), rented the car, and headed out to see some of the things we'd loved 10 years ago when we were here. We were so excited to find our favorite lunch spot still alive and thriving, with the same wonderful sandwiches made on the most amazing choice of homemade bread - I chose macadamia nut, carrot, and pineapple. YUMMY! I could have done without the meat and cheese. I wish I had taken a picure - we should have shared a sandwich - HUGE. This spot overlooks Captain Cook's Cove, where he was ambushed and speared him to death. Maybe more about that later. It's not a nice story. But it is now a fabulous place to snorkel, and hopefully we'll get back there later this week so DC can do that as I sit in the rubber raft and watch.
If you've ever experienced black ice, you'll know what I mean when I say wet lava rock is equally as treacherous. I just went down to check out the temperature of the water and next thing I knew, I was in the water, with my knee and ankle wrenched. But equally upsetting was the fact that I banged my camera on the rocks, and got water in it. DC was trying to help me up, but my main concern was for him to get the camera off my wrist! Silly priorities, I know, but I didn't know I was so hurt. I had to crab crawl back up to the dry rock, find a lower place to put my feet, and finally get up on my feet. This very Adonis-looking young man with blond hair (in a kind of bun on top of his head), fit muscles, and golden tan hollered over to see if I needed help. Now, I was embarrassed enough already, without having this specimen of youth helping me up.
I am pretty sore today. But each time I awoke during the night, I prayed for God's healing grace upon my knee and foot. I could hardly walk when I went to bed. I had just read this from Max Lucado yesterday:
"I believe there's great power in prayer.
I believe God heals the wounded, and that He can raise the dead.
But I don't believe we tell God what to do and when to do it."
I simply asked Him, that if it were His will, could He possibly infuse me with His strength so that I could enjoy the beauty of His creation in this wonderful place, and give Him all the glory. I didn't feel like the man who was healed and "rose up and walked." But I have to say I am feeling much better than last night. Praise His Name. So, if you could join me in prayer for complete relief (If it's His Will), I would appreciate it.
Thank you and have a wonderful Sunday....
TO BE CONTINUED