After spending a hefty chunk of this winter in Hawaii (Kauai & Maui), I have much to process. I'm overloaded with breathtaking pictures, and my notebook is brimming with bits of inspiration and written memories. So much of Hawaii is precious to me.
I visited Hawaii (Maui) for the first time in 2012.
My husband proposed on the shores of Ka'anapali.
We have spent several anniversaries there since.
It's the only place I've heard whales sing.
I tried fruit I didn't even know existed.
I surfed for the first time.
And I was exposed to the beautiful word "aloha."
Sadly, much of the word's meaning has been lost. Most locals don't say aloha unless they're speaking to tourists. A word originally so rich in culture and meaning has been reduced to "hello" and "goodbye." Aloha's true meaning is more of a state of mind or emotion. In certain contexts, it can be used as a blessing of warm thoughts as in, "May you be filled with aloha." I am "filled with aloha" when I meet struggling people or hear about tragedies, but a hopeful tale of people banding together to help and serve comes after.
This trip, we had the incredible opportunity to volunteer with Nāpili Noho and assist the Lahaina fire victims. There, my husband and I witnessed the true meaning of "aloha." The volunteers (both live-in and local) and staff at Napili Noho work 5 days a week to stock groceries and goods, assist with both physical and mental needs, and generally serve the people of Lahaina.
We spoke to locals who, six months after the fire, still struggle to meet basic needs. One elderly couple lost their home of 47 years but still carried grateful smiles. Along with his sleeve ink, one man showed us his "other tattoos"—burn scars up one side of his body. Some people thanked us for serving. Others barely uttered a word, eyes down as they toted their goods back to the parking lot. We saw children's eyes brighten when we gave them bags of cereal. We passed out cartons of water and helped people push their carts across the grass and to their cars.
Aloha was alive and well, still pushing through the ashes. And we got to be a small part of it. Serving there will be an experience I'll never forget.
But more than that, I want to carry that aloha in my heart. It's both a reminder and a warning not to take our beautiful lives for granted. While my husband and I got to return to our vacation the next day, many of those people returned to Napili Noho. Many still live in tents or cars on the beaches. No running water. No laundry. Government support wanes for those lucky enough to find temporary housing in hotels and villas.
But the islanders take care of their own. "Ohana" is another word that means more than just family. It's a feeling of love and camaraderie. After the fire hit, the people on the other Hawaiian islands and unaffected parts of Maui banded together to send boats full of supplies. This was true aloha in action. This is the feeling I want to carry. When there is a need around me, instead of dwelling in sadness or anger, I want those emotions to translate to "how can I help?"
As soon as the fire hit, I planned to serve during our next vacation. I took my broken heart and put it to work for the people.
What I saw and heard from the locals in Lahaina will haunt me for a long while. But instead of the devastation and statistics, I want to focus on the aloha I felt and was able to spread. As an author, it's my job to use words to evoke feeling. For the people of Maui and all those affected, I send prayers, love, and donations. Even if I can't be there in person now, I'll continue to spread the word to help our fellow humans.
And thanks to our extended visit, I may have enough notes and inspiration to write a new novel. In the spirt of aloha, and with the sentiment I've heard from so many transplants who fell in love with the islands, I hope this idea takes hold. If it does, I'll have another reason to be grateful to Hawaii and all the aloha I've experienced during each visit. Time will tell.
Keep on smilin'!
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