Of Life and Times

When you are married you tend to think that you have heard all the stories and experiences of your spouse. After all, you have been talking about each other's lives for years and years. But every now and again a new story surfaces that surprises you. This morning Elaine told me one I had not heard before.

Many years ago, before the current auditorium on campus was remodeled and enlarged, there was an open corridor that passed along the entire back side of the building. it was walled in on both sides, but was open at both ends. It just so happened that in order for Elaine to get to a copy machine from her office she had to leave the building, walk the length of that corridor and down another hall to get to the secretary's office.

You also need to know that Elaine is a very jumpy person. You know how when you are watching fireworks you hear the thmp (that's my own word for it) of the firework being shot off, followed by silence then you see the opening of the blossom above you just before you hear the bang? Well, she jumps at the bang. She knows it is coming, she knows it happens right after the flash in the sky, but it scares her every time. I just stand there and smile with my arm around her. I love watching fireworks with her.

That night on campus a play was in progress. I believe it was a production of Fried Green Tomatoes. At one point in the play they were talking about killing magpies. At this point in the play, about 8:30 p.m., when the whole campus was deserted, except for the play goers, Elaine was walking back from the copy room to her office. As she entered the corridor, which was unlit, so she was walking in the dark, a gunshot suddenly rang through the darkness in the corridor. She let out an involuntary scream of shock and surprise. This was followed by a muffled laughter coming from the theater. I don't think the audience that night anticipated that the intended magpie would have a dying scream to donate to the evening's performance.

We have a chicken who has been more persistent than a child who keeps saying, "Are we there yet?" She nested in the rafters of our carport and kept accidentally dropping her eggs off the ledge. We shooed her away from there and she nested among the plants, we drove her away again then found her nesting in our front container box. This happened time and time again. She was always very protective of her eggs. Only when we were able to physically dislodge her from the nest were we able to get rid of her latest clutch, which almost always consisted of at least eight eggs.

This morning Elaine told me to come outside and see the latest changes to the fern alley. When I rounded the corner I was not at all surprised to find the same hen. But this time she was obviously dead. When Elaine picked her up we got a surprise. Whatever killed her had also completely gutted her. There were no entrails left, just the carcass. The real surprise was that even as all that was happening to her she was still tenaciously clutching one of her eggs in one foot.

Never underestimate the faithfulness of a mother's love for her offspring.

Elaine reminded me of a rare moment last night, so I thought I would share it today.

Sometime during the first decade of this century Elaine and I went on a special date. The university was putting on a play about Anne Bolin. The performance was in the round in a small gallery or dance studio above the university auditorium. The acting was great, the costuming well done, and the story was captivating. In the final scene Anne is condemned and lead away to be beheaded.

We were sitting right behind the king and his court. All the room was hushed, and the lights went dim as we all waited for the fall of the ax that would signal the end of her life. From out of the darkness of the room a cannon went off in the distance. I burst out with a screech and yelled, "They shot her!" I was hysterical with laughter at the thought of them taking her head off with a cannon. Everyone in the room was appalled at my behavior at such a solemn moment. Elaine quietly explained that after a beheading they would signal the city of London with the cannon that the person on trial had just died. I honestly thought I was going to hear the thud of the ax on wood, not a cannon blast.

The King and his court wheeled around and glared at me. I think I laughed for the next three months over that unexpected sound. I also couldn't show my face in public for a couple of years.

Happy Anniversary Dear!
This year I decided to struggle with my language and try to describe to you what just a small part of you means to me. I'm talking about your hands. I know it sounds corny, but at least it is sincere.

When you place your hand on the side of my face, reality fades away. I feel a need to quietly gasp. My eyes close involuntarily, and a smile spreads across my face. I feel almost giddy. The warmth of your touch pulls up feelings of security, love, peace, and a longing that you never remove your hand. It is like going to sleep on the side of a sunny hill snuggled up with you, feeling the ocean breeze tousle our hair. Pure contentment.

When we go to sleep each night and you clasp my hand with yours, as I close my eyes, the day seems to fade away, and like a security blanket treasured by a small child, I can quietly slip away to dream my dreams.

You are so important to me for so many reasons, but on our thirteenth wedding anniversary I wanted you to know that I don't want to take any part of who you are for granted. I love you completely.

Your loving husband,
Kelly

In two days' time Elaine and I will be enjoying our 13th wedding anniversary. If there is any observation we have noticed and commented on consistently, it is that time is running faster at our age than it used to when we were much younger. Our current weeks are seeming to pass as quickly as our days used to when we were in our 20s.

This is my second marriage and Elaine's first. Up until about a week ago I just assumed that we were still newly weds. Imagine my surprise when Elaine made a comment about which anniversary this is and I realized that we are nearing almost one and a half decades of marriage. What happened to the time? Where have I been all that time? I swear we just just moved to Hawaii and enrolled our children in Laie Elementary and Kahuku High and Intermediate. Our eldest, Eleanor, just graduated from high school and met and married Vlad from Ukraine in college, Anna just started having children, Paul just met Tammie from Indonesia, Marie just moved to the mainland, and Elizabeth just entered the fourth grade.

Wait, let me get myself caught up. Elaine was just released from being department chair after 10 years. Eleanor now has three children, each several years apart. Anna has four children, the oldest of which just turned 11 years old. Paul has two children and is about to graduate from college. Marie is still living on the mainland. Elizabeth, our baby graduated from high school, moved to Wyoming, and married David, and got an 8 year old son in the bargain. She and David are just celebrating their first anniversary next month. And our hanai (unofficially adopted) son, Trevor has graduated from high school, served a two-year mission for our church, and just got married to Alyx. She seems like a very nice young lady.

Some people may say that 13 is an unlucky number, but from where I stand, in the last thirteen years Elaine and I have had too many blessings sent our way to feel unlucky.

A couple of years ago Elaine and I made new friends with the Kahele family. They started to attend our Gospel Principles class and Alan just caught on fire. His wife, Jolanda, is a returned missionary and has been active in the Church all her life. Alan drove a garbage truck and was known for being a really hard worker. You couldn't hope to find a more personable and faithful friend. He would gladly put himself in any form of inconvenience to help someone else out of their troubles, and smile and be affable, and be grateful he had the chance to be of service to someone else. Alan is a real jewel.

After a number of months Alan got baptized, and when the time was right, I ordained him to the Melchizedek  Priesthood. In a year's time they went through the Laie, Hawaii Temple, and he never skipped a beat, continuing to serve and be humble, and was always hungry to learn more. He had found the joy the Gospel of Christ and had embraced it with all his heart.

In April we got word that Alan had been admitted to the hospital with two forms of cancer. Everyone played down the seriousness of his illness, so I assumed he would be back at Church once he was finished with Chemo. Every week we got favorable reports in Priesthood Meeting. Then a couple of weeks ago I went to Church and was told that Alan had died the night before Father's Day. I was stunned. Evidently the bone cancer was pumping dead blood cells throughout his body and it poisoned him.

Yesterday was the funeral. I helped to dress the body, I played the music for the funeral, and I gave the first talk, using the Laborers in the Vineyard parable as the text. Alan truly was one of the laborers whom the Master hired in the 11th hour.

I used to take issue with the notion that those who were hired at 5:00 p.m. were paid the same wage as those who were hired at 6:00 a.m. After knowing the joy that the Gospel had brought into Alan Kahele's life, I can now honestly see why the Master of the house paid them all the same. I would never begrudge any blessing to someone as completely changed and devoted as Alan had become. He has been such a good example of how I need to become, and I have had the Gospel my whole life. I am one of those 6:00 a.m. laborers, and so grateful that I have had the time I need to become a better person. Alan was just able to do it infinitely faster because once he caught the vision he did whatever was necessary to better himself and reconcile himself with the Lord. I can't use the word envy, but I can honestly say I eternally grateful for the Lord's goodness to my friend Alan Kahele; he deserved it.