The Kona Adventure - Part 1

I am sitting at the little table in our cottage looking out at the ocean below us, and listening to the cacophany of God's choir of birds on this wonderful Sunday morning. We are preparing to visit our denomination's little church for worship. Ten years ago when we attended the same church on the same week-end, they were doing their Christmas program. Maybe we'll be fortunate enough to get in on that again this time.


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.

I need your prayers, and then I'm going to stop here today. Here is the last picture I took before I ruined my camera, my knee, and my ankle (the same knee and ankle I've injured before).

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

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY TWO GIRLS!

I would like to thank all of you, my dear friends, for your encouraging comments on my last post. I always cheer DC on in his exploits of adventure. I just wish I felt more apt to join in. But we will definitely have a great time, no matter what.

I'm re-publishing this post I did a year ago to celebrate the birthdays of my daughter, Kristen, and my daughter-in-law, who goes by Sema in blogland. I think it's so amazing that they have the same birth date, four years apart, continents apart. I have many new friends who weren't around last year at this time, so I hope you enjoy it. I could not figure out how to delete last year's comments, so you might find yourself down there, but feel free to comment again - and to go to their sites to wish them a great day - we're leaving them to fend for themselves on their birthdays, much to Kristen's dismay - the second time in 33 years!

We're heading out at 3:30 a.m. for a 6:00 flight to Kona by way of San Francisco. We'll return early Sunday morning, the 16th.

It was Saturday, December 7, 1974. I was pregnant with my first child, and I was tired. We had moved into our first little house on November 1. It had been a lot of work getting everything in order with an extra 25 pounds (that was all we were allowed to gain at that time).

I had finally finished the robe I needed to take to the hospital with me. I had picked up a crewel embroidery picture for the baby's room that had been framed. We went out for ice cream (yes, ice cream in December!). I was too tired to shower that night, so I went to bed and crashed.

You remember how it is with the first baby - you have all the classes, they tell you what to expect, but you still don't really have a clue what that first twinge of true labor is going to feel like. I started being suspicious around midnight, so went out to time the contractions on the couch so I wouldn't bother the daddy-to-be. Around 5:00 I let him know it was really time to go - greasy hair and all. All the way to the hospital, 11 miles north, he kept saying, "Are you sure, are you sure?" No, I wasn't sure! I'd never done this before. But I certainly didn't want to have the baby at home - better safe than sorry! He didn't want to get there and be sent home. About halfway there he said, "I don't know if I can do this or not." Do what, I say? It's too late to back out now! "Watch the delivery," he admits. We'd been through all the classes - he'd suffered through the delivery film. I thought he was ready.

He was by my side through all of the preliminaries. He got very involved watching the mountains and valleys of the contractions on the monitor. The time came to head into the delivery room. The doctor said, "Are you coming, D?" He said, "I sure am!" I was one relieved momma-to-be!

At 2:17 p.m. on Sunday, December 8, the best early Christmas gift possible, Kristen, arrived. She was beautiful and smart from the beginning. We were instantly in love. We took dozens of pictures, of course. It was hard to narrow them down to a "few," but here goes. (I tried to do a fancy slide show, but it just didn't work out).

Age 3 months

17 months

Two Years

Two and Three-Fourths

I made this outfit

First Boyfriend

Kristen as Mary, Matthew as "Jopheph"

Four and Two-Thirds

Fifth Birthday - I "used to" be creative

Christmas Program Sunday - Age 5

Mom and Me Outfits - Age 6

Fast Forward to Grade 8 - The Brace Age

Christmas Eve Fun - Scavenger Hunt for Gifts

Age 16, 10th Grade - the "Too Much Make-Up" Stage

Lounging in the Back Yard on a Summer Day

The day we were celebrating Kristen's 4th birthday . . .

. . . on the other side of the world, our future Daughter-in-Love was being born in Mombasa, Kenya. Who would believe that someday both of our daughters would celebrate their birthdays on the same day. Here are some pictures of her when she was little, though I don't know the ages. Wasn't she adorable?

Age Six

Age Six - Love the Boots!

She grew up to be a beautiful, smart, industrious, loyal young woman. You can read her blog at Twenty Eight Celsius.

Please go and wish each of them a Happy Birthday!

Well, I also wanted to do the ornament parade today, but I will have to do it another day. I couldn't do both, and really wanted to honor the girls on their special day.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!

Fear or Cowardice?

The Countdown to Kona has reached less than 48 hours. I still have lots to do. So why am I blogging instead of doing it? Because this is more fun than getting ready.

As I prepare for this wonderful get-away with my dear husband to celebrate our 35th anniversary(which is really December 28, but the cost is prohibitive between Christmas and New Year's), I find a bit of fear, or cowardice, invading my life. I have a lack of courage. I looked up these words to see which really fits me and here's what I found:

Fear (noun:)

1. A feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger.
2. A state or condition marked by this feeling: living in fear.
3. A feeling of disquiet or apprehension: a fear of looking foolish.
4. Extreme reverence or awe, as toward a supreme power.
5. A reason for dread or apprehension: Being alone is my greatest fear.

Cowardice (noun)

Ignoble lack of courage: chickenhearted, craven, dastardly, faint-hearted, lily-livered, pusillanimous, unmanly. Slang: chicken, gutless, yellow, yellow-bellied. See fear

Courage (noun: )

The state or quality of mind or spirit that enables one to face danger, fear, or vicissitudes with self-possession, confidence, and resolution; bravery.

I'm not exactly certain which word, fear or cowardice, fits me best. I do not go through life in a state of dread or apprehension, agitation or anxiety. I do like the 4th definition - that of reverence or awe for God.

I really don't like the second word - cowardice. But I fear it describes me better than fear. I think I'm more like this guy, from The Wizard of Oz:

I am really a chicken when it comes to physical challenges. I can face an audience. I can start a new job. I can drive cross country by myself (well, I could when I was younger and didn't fall asleep on my way home from work!) I can take on anybody who has wronged a loved one (as long as it's on the phone or in a letter!) But I am a puddle of pathetic pusillanimity when it comes to anything physically daunting. (See definition #2 under "Fear").

When my younger sister and I were living in the town I mentioned in the previous post, there were a lot of pretty rough kids walking home from school with us. It was a very cold town and these kids loved to make snowballs, which were really more ice than snow. They would hurl them at unsuspecting kids (seemingly especially kids who had just moved there and hadn't been accepted quite yet). I was so afraid of getting hit by one of those ice balls , especially in the face with the possibility of breaking my glasses) that I cowered every day on the way home from school. Enter my courageous, YOUNGER sister, who would fight back with snowballs. She actually chased them off, if I recall correctly.

When I was only 10, we were at one of the 10,000 lakes in Minnesota, cooling off on a hot summer afternoon. I didn't know how to swim, and hit a drop-off. I literally saw the proverbial life before my eyes scenario as I bobbed up and down in that water. My mom, who couldn't swim either, but was taller, came to my rescue. I shudder when I think she could have stepped into a drop-off as well and we would have both been lost. But God spared our lives. He, however, did not give me the courage to face that possibility again. The only D grade I ever reeived in school was in 8th grade swimming - I could not trust the water to hold me up. I could not float, much less swim. I still can't. I've toyed with the idea of taking adult swimming lessons and whipping this giant, but I am too afraid! Or cowardly.

Fast foward to adulthood. I met my future husband. He loved to hike. I hadn't done it much, but wanted to be with him, so would venture off into the hills with him. We did pretty well until he took me on an adventure one day shortly after we were married that was too much, . This particular hike involved a perpendicular (well, it seemed that way to me) ascent. I don't do perpendicular. Ask my brothers and sister if I ever made it up into the haymow, where they were having lots of fun when we were at our grandparents' farms as kids.

DC could tell you the sad tale of how I cried and sat on a rock at that very spot, telling him to go on to the top and come back to get me on the way down. He was pretty shocked, as I recall. I did manage to conquer that hill at a later date, but haven't felt the need to do it again since then.

A few years ago I decided to prove to my kids that I wasn't a total wimp. Don't ask me why I chose this particular method, but I decided to go on this ride at Elitch Gardens one beautiful late summer evening.

The Tower of Doom!

They couldn't believe it, and I still can't either. But I did it and that was enough.

So I know you're wondering "Where in the world is she going with this?" Here's where I'm going. The other night as we were discussing our upcoming trip, sweet DC said he wanted to rent a kayak. He wanted to do that last time, and I managed to put it off long enough to escape. I'm scared to death of getting in the thing, more even than the ride itself. Getting in and out is the worst. Ridiculous, you say? Well, most irrational fears are. But they're still fears.

Then he mentioned maybe going horseback riding. HUH?? Where did that come from? I have never been on a horse (yes, Midlife Mom, it's true!) And I haven't felt deprived one little bit for this missing adventure. Not one bit. I don't think I really want to start now! I really don't.

And he loves to snorkle. I know it's beautiful down there under the water. I have pictures he took with an underwater camera last time to prove it. Last time I had a terrible cold and I could just picture the goggles filling up with mucous! Great excuse ten years ago. I'm thankful I don't have a cold this time going in, but how am I going to get out of this adventure this time?

I really hate to be such a party pooper. But how can I get over all of these fears in two days and be ready to jump in and seize these moments that I don't want to seize?? My idea of a perfect vacation is sitting by the water while he does these things, and reading a good book, going for a walk on the beach, or even in the tropical gardens, going out to eat, and. I know, I know. I am a real wimp. And he really does need me to be more adventurous and quit being such a coward. I know you're wondering how in the world we ever got together! It is really true that opposites attract!

I'll keep you posted!

Musical Memories

I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet the words repeat

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along the unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head

'There is no peace on earth,' I said,

'For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.'

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail

With peace on earth, good will to men.'

Till ringing, singing on its way

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

"This carol was written on December 25, 1863, when the American Civil War (1861-1865) was at its height. The famous poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was saddened by the horrors of this conflict, for 'hate seemed overstrong at the moment.' His son, who was serving as lieutenant in the Union Army at the time, had been wounded. When Longfellow heard the Christmas bells chiming out, he came to the realization, from the depths of his despair, that 'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep!' He believed that God is powerful enough to overcome the world's strife, and to bring peace and good will to Earth. And in ending each stanza, the poet stresses this idea with the phrase, 'Of peace on Earth, good will to men.' "

I was in 6th grade. We were learning this song in music class. I had never heard it before. I loved it. I could hardly wait to sing it for the program. Suddenly we were moving. It probably wasn't sudden at all. It probably just seemed like that to me. We were moving back to Minnesota from Arkansas to be nearer my grandparents. Grandpa S. wasn't doing well. We left just before Christmas - just before the program. It stuns me when I think of how strong some memories are. Every time I hear that song, I think of that missing school Christmas program.

Living in that northern Minnesota town was a tough few years (more about that in the next post). Dad was a pastor and this church was a very hard place to serve. We only stayed 3 1/2 years and Dad had to leave the pastorate for awhile to salvage his health. We moved to the Twin Cities, where he worked for Sears as a salesman, a very good salesman.

This move was good for us in several ways. One was the opportunity to be in a very good school system, with a great music program. I was fortunate to be able to play the piano for the choir in 9th grade. The same girl that I competed with for speed in typing class was my "rival" in music class. It made us both better than we would have been without that competitive spirit. I was to be the main accompanist for our Christmas program that year. I was SO excited and SO nervous.

Two weeks before the concert, I got sick. I didn't get well and bounce back right away, as normal. I was so sick that I was in bed, feverish, achy, had no appetite. In fact, my mother's Christmas baking made me nauseous. The light made my eyes hurt, so I couldn't read or watch t.v. I even got tired of "Little Drummer Boy," as my only entertainment was the radio and that song was played dozens of times every day.

It was a real blow when I realized I was not going to be jumping out of bed, dressing up, and playing for the concert. I was devastated. By the time I was diagnosed with infectious mononucleosis, it was Christmas vacation and I was still miserable. I was sick for two more weeks, and it took me a year to feel strong again. But the biggest disappointment was missing that concert.

On a different note, last night we had our annual "Hanging of the Greens" at our church. As each element of our traditional celebration was discussed, we learned more about the history of that tradition.

"The actual origin of caroling as a part of the Christmas celebration is really unknown. Several countries have claimed to be the birthplace of the custom. From the first, music of some kind was a part of the church festivals in honor of the birth of Jesus. We know that caroling existed in Germany in the 15th century because Martin Luther wrote that when Christmas was celebrated he went with others from house to house and village to village singing popular Christmas carols. We could safely assume that caroling was first done by the Choir of Angels who sang, 'Glory to God in the Highest and on earth peace and good will to all people.' "

Christmas and the Very Grand Kids

The Countdown to Kona has slipped below a week! I can't believe it - one week from now we will be eating dinner in Hawaii. Lots to do before then!

If you have children in your home, children or grandchildren, you might be interested in the Fisher-Price Little People Nativity Set. I bought it 3 years ago for the kids to use when they were at my house. This set took center stage on my living room coffee table because I didn't want to have my ceramic set broken. I wanted them to be able to have a hands-on experience with Baby Jesus. When you press on the angel on the stable, it plays "Away in a Manger."

Then I found this one, which plays the whole Christmas story when you press the button:

This one looks like it is made from dough. All the figures could be hung on the tree, but it also makes a great hands-on play experience.

Yesterday, the girls were so involved in playing with all of these things that I just sat back, watched, listened, smiled to myself, and took a few pictures. They are very creative little players.

Even with all of these things especially bought and set up for them, they found it more fun to play with something that was not a toy. It's not expensive, nor is it an heirloom, but it is breakable and I've had it for quite a few years.

I heard some clanking and clicking and discovered that Care Bear was taking all the little cups out and stacking them up. I warned her to be very careful and to put them back. Oops -- too late!

But - Grandma can't say too much - the day before, I decided to wash one of them in the dishwasher because somehow it had gotten sticky and dirty. Not a good idea! Turns out it wasn't colored glass after all, but covered glass - with plastic!

One final picture with a cute story, unrelated to the kiddoes. I have a small collection of snowmen, with quite a few on the tree, but the beginning of a collection for the shelf.

DC brought me the large one standing on the left. When I asked him where it came from, he told me this great story - one of the ladies he works with spends a lot of time on the phone with customers of their company. One of her clients brought her this snowman last year. It seems that she had some sort of falling out with this gentleman and she is mad at him. This little guy laid on the floor by her desk all year. DC asked her today if she wanted it - she said no, she didn't want it because of her frustration with this guy. So he brought it home for me. I don't know why she didn't throw it away, but I'm glad she didn't!

Have a wonderful and blessed week-end!