Temporary Reassignment

I love the movie "Pearl Harbor" - not for the graphic, dramatic, heartbreaking reenactment of the unprecedented attack on U.S. soil, but for the romantic (and, yes, not that realistic) drama involving a handful of characters. One of the more overlooked parts of most Pearl Harbor movies is the raid by Colonel Jimmy Doolittle (google it - amazing stuff) on Tokyo some four months following the bombing. These dashing pilots (Josh Hartnett and Ben Affleck - the latter's hat ALWAYS on at a jaunty angle) are personally recruited by Colonel Doolittle himself. They are told it was an important mission, and they had to say "yay" or "nay" without knowing what the mission - or it's level of danger - was. I sort of feel like that right now. Okay. There are no bombs going off around me, and I really don't think that Hemet, CA poses any legitimate threat. But God has put us on a mission that we know nothing about. I don't even recall Him asking if we wanted to do it. But, for now, we have been temporarily reassigned.

Today marks three weeks since we had the sickening realization that we had no choice but to return to the mainland for a while. Tomorrow will be two weeks since we left our beloved island home.

Leaving put us into a bit of a state of shock, but not so much as to take for granted the last few fun things to be done on Maui - at least for a few months. After we dropped our car off at the Kahului Harbor for her little cruise BACK across the Pacific, on Tuesday, April 12, we had a lovely lunch at Ruby's with our dear friends, Johnny and Dixie. I love these two! They have been more help and consolation than I can describe! But I digress.... By the time we got back to the westside, the day seemed to be getting away and there was still plenty to do before going to see FloJo for one last time before we left, and then make it to our last classes at church. I was thinking that there was no way to make it back into the water that I love so much for a visit to the reef that would have to hold me for a while. Don insisted that we take and hour or so to gear up and get in the water. I'm so happy I married that man.

God blessed us inordinately that day. Conditions were clear...ish. There was an abundance and wide variety of little fishy life. In fact, it was so good, that after traversing a reef that took us far out from shore, we opted to turn northward to examine what wonders the reef held there. And thar she was. No, not Nemo. Not Jaws. But a lovely, smiling...BARRACUUUUUUDA!!! YEEEEPS!!! This is the fish that scares the heck outa me waaaaay more than sharks. Sharks are relatively shy and usually bite by accident because they are nearsighted and refuse to wear eye correction. granted, that errant bite could cost you a limb, but the big galoot didn't really mean anything by it. Barracudas are just nasty, ornery, mean fish who will attack just because they think your board shorts are ugly. Now, granted, I love Don's board shorts, but I had no idea about the fashion sense of this toothy fiend. After tussling around for a few scary moments in the water (Don swearing he was trying to get me behind him, but...), we took a sharp right and headed south as fast as our little fins could paddle us. We didn't walk on water, but I'm pretty sure we had a rooster tail kicked up behind us. At the very least, we left quite the sizable wake. We slowed down somewhere before Kaho'olawe, turned to make sure we weren't followed by a lethal puppy, then continued our nice cruise of the reef...going toward the shore.

That evening was pretty emotional for us. We stopped to say goodbye to FloJo, leaving her in the loving hands of Stephen, Christy, and Selah Mendoza. She couldn't be in a happier, safer, more loving place - other than with us, of course! Then we headed to church - Don for his men's study and me with the women. My goodness, that was tough - but wonderful. After some more goodbyes, and a few more tears, Johnny and Dixie fed us once more. These two were going to make sure we didn't go away hungry.

We still had mega packing to go, and even some laundry to finish. Of course. We washed and packed all towels and bedding and such for storage - the idea being that we could use the sumptuous towels and sheets provided in the condo. so yummy. Around midnight, we headed down to the beach, as we had for so many nights before. We moved beach chairs to a distance close enough to the water so that the waves could wash over our feet, but far enough to keep the rest of us dry. We looked at stars twinkling above us and the moonlight dancing on the sea in front of us. Our hearts were breaking, but we also just laid it all out for our Lord - if He wanted us to leave this beauty for a time, then who were we to argue? Well...not that we didn't try... But God is God, and He has His own ideas about what He wants. As we prayed a lot and cried a little, we were made abruptly aware of something: we hadn't quite placed the chairs far enough away from the water to keep dry. A rather aggressive little wave shot over our feet, up our legs, running up under our tushies. We were no longer dry. Not even a little bit. It was nearly 1:00 a.m. by the time we sort of squished and laughed our way back upstairs - looking rather like two cowboys fresh off the long, soggy trail - to put the final items into boxes for mailing, containers for storing, or suitcases for paying through the nose to get them onto our flight back to the mainland.

As we powered through, it became quite apparent that we would be paying a bit for our checked bags. The soggy clothes alone, wrapped up nice and safe from all the other dry clothes, added about 43 lbs. We began thanking God that we no longer had kids to put through college and then started musing about just how much our kidneys were worth. We fell into bed about 2:00-ish. Actually, it was more like onto bed, not exactly in. We gave up on the idea of remaking the beds - with hotel linens or any other type - and just did a face plant on the undressed pillows and mattress cover, then threw a blanket over us. Exhaustion overpowered the chaos in our heads and the alarm seemed to go off right after we closed our eyes.

Preparing to leave the next morning was surreal. We never, ever thought this would happen. Don works so hard and so well at what he does - it simply makes no sense. But we knew what we were being led to do. Well....dragged kicking and screaming is a more apt description. Once again, we were surrounded by the loving souls of Johnny and Dixie (no food involved this time) and Stephen and Christy, with their tiny daughter, Selah. They made what was excruciating, bearable. We even gathered in prayer on the top floor of the Ka'anapali Shores parking structure, and the family waiting to leave, yet blocked by our circle, was respectful and patient. After prayers and tears and hugs and kisses, Johnny and Dixie left for their home, while Stephen and Christy loaded down their SUV with our SEVEN bags, while we took our four carry-ons in the jeep (which is staying with Stephen and Christy). The weather was flawless as we took the drive along the highway, top down on our beloved jeep, and knowing that it would be a few months before we traveled this road again, we tried to memorize every mile. The feeling of dread as we approached the airport had been reserved for those stinging moments of taking loved ones to their flights back to the mainland. But this time, the flight was for us. More kisses, hugs, and tears - and Stephen drove off in my jeep with Christy following in their car. And there we were. No turning back.

The next few hours became even more surreal as we dealt with the practicalities of getting checked in for our flight. yes, we had seven bags - but that wasn't even the best of it. One of the seven was 71 lbs, and another was 91 lbs! The lovely and very sweet lady at the counter was even calling ahead to warn the baggage dudes about these beasts coming - the bags, not us. I won't bore you (further) with details, but suffice to say, our bags cost more than we did. I wonder if they got a meal and a movie. Because of the late ticket purchase, we didn't have seats next to each other - rather, Don sat directly behind me. It was only slightly awkward as he held my hand during take-off. I'm sure that any who observed would think my tears were about fear of flying.

We had a layover in L.A., and that meant a puddle jumper of some ilk to take us to San Diego. I began to wonder if they would allow all of our bags to fly at the same time, given that there were so many and that at least one of them was the same weight as your average super model. We blessed out by getting one of those cool little jets, so it would have a better chance of bearing up under the weight of our baggage. I watched as luggage was being loaded, expecting to see this sharp little jet sort of sag a little as our bags came aboard. But it was all fine. Until we got to SD.

Do you remember those little logic puzzle we had in seventh grade, where you had a fox, a chicken, and a bag of grain that you had to move across a river on a raft that could only hold two of the three at a time. You couldn't leave the hen with the grain, nor the fox with the hen. That is pretty much what we had to do in San Diego, arriving close to midnight at the little commuter terminal. The object of our logic puzzle was to get seven large bags and four carry-ons from the baggage carrousel out to the sidewalk. We each loaded ourselves like sherpas, but that still left a few bags inside....unattended. Thanks to creepy terrorists, leaving bags unattended can get you in lots of trouble. The distance between the baggage carrousel and the sidewalk was, at the most, a hundred feet. My poor spouse was moving as fast as he could, but there was already a cranky security guy starting to get on his radio to report this obvious threat to the three people still remaining in the little terminal. The number of our bags also posed another bigger issue: how could we get all this stuff into a sedan-type cab. Not gonna happen. But God is good, and he sent us a very nice cabbie with a van. He even loaded all of this without Don's help!! We climbed in, gave him our son's address, and away we went. We had not noticed that our friendly cabbie was a fan of either Mr. Toad, or the Amazing Race. We are two tired people who call home an island where the average speed is around 40 mph. This guy was doing double that. We gripped the seat and each other, praying through clenched teeth - but we made it. Our oldest was there to welcome us. What a welcome sight! Don paid the cabbie - tipping him enough so he could get that hernia surgery he would likely need after handling our bags.

And so begins our mysterious reassignment. After moving up to Hemet (more on that in the next installment), we went to church with Kyle and Kristin. The pastor (also a Steve!) was preaching on suffering and trial. He began talking about Job and Jobs buddies. Are ya kidding me!?!? Didn't we just talk about this guy a couple of blogs ago!?!?!? Anyway, the pastor described three reasons for a trial: the discipline from a loving father to his child, the metalworker refining gold, and a gardener pruning the vine. All are painful. All are necessary. We have no doubt that God has called us here for a reason. We also are coming to know that it isn't only about us - it's about what others may learn from our experience. But it still hurts. We love our children and grandchildren, of course, but neither of us have ever been made to leave a home we love and people we utterly adore.

So, we're now in Hemet. I'll tell you more about it next time. Know that we covet your prayers! Know that you are love and appreciated!