I’m pretty sure that in the final moments of the Sixth Day, just before He rested, God smiled, gave a wink and dealt out the Hawaiian islands just to give us a little foretaste of heaven. And I’m just as sure that He added a little flourish at the southern tip of the northernmost island because Poipu, Kauai has to be the closest thing to heaven on this earth.
My idea of heaven: coffee at 5:30 a.m., two-mile walk at sunrise, with requisite cats mewing greetings along the path.
This guy has shown up in his tuxedo every morning we’ve been here:
His distant cousin is less formally dressed but no less welcoming.
The words come back to me. The words we never say in California or New York, but which bespeak the magic of this place.
Francolin. Their sweet cooing is a hallmark of every morning, as is the crowing of the roosters that roam the island.
Because, of course, there will be chickens in heaven.
The food there will be healthy. Like the “summer rolls” we share for lunch every day. And the seafood “lau lau”, steamed and wrapped in a Ti leaf.
I don’t know if God will be serving mai tai’s. He may have figured we’ve had enough of those on earth. But I suspect there will be sun showers and full moon rises and blue meteors hurtling through the sky to the ocean (the CE saw one last night!). There will be luxuriously long sleeps to the sound of waves crashing against the sand. I don’t have photos of these things because they simply don’t don’t replicate. God has copyrighted and trademarked them for the time being. You’ll just have to take it (and a lot of other things) on faith.
But I can show you the plants so garishly red they are divinely whimsical.
Paths and places so serene I think they must have been divinely inspired.
We are enjoying every minute of it. At the perfect pace.
In Hawaiian, hemolele is the word for perfect. It also implies holiness. This week has been like that. Holy, and wholly perfect. Feeling very blessed.