The Approach of the Approach of Splendor

We recently spent the better part of a week over on Maui.  Some highlights of the trip are a bit on-the-nose, like sunrise at the summit of a dormant volcano, or a lovely day spent lounging by the tranquil resort pool with smoothie service.  But my favorite moments of just about any trip are usually completely off the radar of anyone else.  Like the afternoon I spent roaming a Prague cemetery and took some of my most favorite photos.  You get some odd looks when you describe that your favorite moment of a four-country European vacation was a solitary sojurn, filled with ivy-covered gravestones.  

We took a hike to a spectacular waterfall, Pipwai Falls, way out in East Maui past Hana in the Kipahulu district of Haleakalā National Park.  A place that is simultaneously remote and yet well-touristed.  The hike was a 6-mile out-and-back along a stream we had to ford at one point, culminating at a small clearing surrounded on three sides by soaring vertical rock walls and a 400-foot-tall water cascade.  Stunning.  But it wasn't my favorite part of the hike, by far.  

No, it was this boardwalk section through a bamboo forest.  Anyone who knows me knows how much I love light.  A deeper metaphor, yes, but the photographer in me enjoys the changing nature of light, the play of light with objects, the qualities it possesses from one time and space to another.  It is fleeting and it is lovely and it is holy.  Anyhow, we stepped from jungly streamside forest into this other world.  The light filtering through the leafy canopy into the tall bamboo shafts.  The sound they made as the wind sifted through them - the largest bamboo wind chime on earth.  I lagged back from the group just to linger a while in it, to listen and to simply be.  I must have looked ridiculous, completely overjoyed to walk through a patch of overgrown grass, which wasn't even the hike's destination.

From Frederick Buechner's The Alphabet of Grace:

Two apple branches struck against each other with the limber clack of wood on wood.  That was all - a tick-tack rattle of branches - but then a fierce lurch of excitement at what was only daybreak, only the smell of summer coming, only starting back again for home, but oh Jesus, he thought, with a great lump is his throat and a crazy grin, it was an agony of gladness and beauty falling wild and soft like rain.  Just clack-clack, but praise him, he thought. Praise him.  Maybe all his journeying, he thought, had been only to bring him here to hear two branches hit each other twice like that, to see nothing cross the threshold but to see the threshold, to hear the dry clack-clack of the world's tongue at the approach of the approach of splendor.

And because the augenblick will not verweile, the return trip through the bamboo was completely different.  One, it was no longer a delightful surprise - it was now a known entity, the joy of discovery was finished.  Two, an hour later after a pause at the falls, and of course the light's angles had changed.  Others may keep their waterfall; I, however, will carry that bamboo around with me forever.  Clack clack.

Increasing My Internet Footprint

Though not the reason¹ for my neglectfulness here, exactly, I have been dabbling in some other online outposts lately.

This, for sharing interesting links and readings and what not, which lost its venue when Google killed the best part of Reader (that would be the sharing/noting and was sacred among my circle and has since been merged into Google+, the health club of social media.  Everyone signs up, nobody goes.).

This, for updates on interesting things in and around the islands for our friends and family elsewhere.

It feels a little scattered, but I'll figure out my strategy as I go along, I suppose.

1 I don't know what this reason is, any more than you do!

Motherhood of a Different Kind

I was sifting through one of my commonplace books this morning, and I came across this pearl from C.S. Lewis:

'She seems to be... well, a person of particular importance?'

'Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things...' 

'And who are all these young men and women on each side?' 

'They are her sons and daughters.' 

'She must have had a very large family, Sir.' 

'Every young man or boy that met her became her son - even if it was only the boy that brought the meat to her back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter.' 

'Isn't that a bit hard on their own parents?' 

'No. There are those that steal other peoples' children. But her motherhood was of a different kind. Those on whom it fell went back to their natural parents loving them more. Few men looked on her without becoming, in a certain fashion, her lovers. But it was the kind of love that made them not less true, but truer, to their own wives. ... It is like when you throw a stone into a pool and the concentric waves spread out further and further. Who knows where it will end? ... But already there is joy enough in the little finger of a great saint such as yonder lady to waken all the dead things of the universe into life.'

I am often asked about (not) having children of my own - it's usually one of the trifecta of small-talk topics when meeting people:  Where are you from?  What do you do?  Do you have any kids?  Especially after someone learns we've been married for more than a dozen years.  As a woman who runs in some evangelical Christian circles, it's assumed that I would have had them by now.  And that it's something I'm supposed to do, despite my body.  Frankly, I've never had a huge drive towards motherhood - I've looked at it more as merely the next logical milestone.  I'm not hostile toward the idea, either; I'm not militantly anti-children.  It just hasn't happened for us.  I choose to be satisfied either way - with or without.  We essentially gave the decision over to God; I never wanted to be so desperate that I would steamroll forth with my plan and overlook the one He has designed for us (and designed us for). A constant struggle that is hardly exclusive to child-bearing. 

One way I usually respond to the question - mostly to fill the conversation space that would have otherwise held a description of my family - is that as a high-school teacher and mentor, I've been busy shepherding others' children.  Which raises a question: Must I justify our lack of children with some substitution or place-holder?  Sometimes, yes, because I've been made to feel I am somehow less of a woman for it.  Comments from a doctor and also from some well-meaning friends in a position of spiritual authority.  Defense does spring back from that kind of thing.  Surely God demonstrates His love for us through parenting.  There are things about God's relationship with us you begin to understand once you have children of your own.  I get that.  But He also doesn't call everyone to live out the same story.  Creation and community do not support homogeneity as the rule.  He calls some to remain single all their lives.  He calls others to marriage late in life.  He calls others to be parents of one.  He calls others to be parents of many.  He calls others to be parents of none.  But He also demonstrates His love in ways too numerous to count.  

Flipping through the same book, I re-read Donald Miller's words: 

After all, the metaphors - love between a father and a son, between a man and a woman - didn't have to be exact.  They were only supposed to make a motion, to grunt toward the inexplicable.  And we don't all get to experience all the metaphors.  A person who never leaves China doesn't get to appreciate God's handiwork in Yosemite National Park, but he will have his own versions there in China.  This was important to me, because it meant that even though I didn't have a dad, I still knew about love, and from plenty of places.  So while all the metaphors weren't firing, some of them were.  I could still understand God was loving and kind, because I knew about love and kindness.

I don't need all the metaphors.  I have some.  And, in this lifetime, I'll barely scratch the surfaces of the ones I do have.  "Some" is still an embarrassing surplus of riches.

A little Italy

No deep-dish, Chicago-style pizza around here?  Not a problem.

Metacookies

That's right - it's a cookie, inside a cookie.  Because sometimes lilies just need gilding.

Admittedly, if I were to do this again¹, I'd swap out half (or maybe all) the butter in the chocolate-chip-cookie recipe for shortening.  Because they spread a little too much.  Shortening would have prevented that.


1  next time I happen to have any leftover oreos from a cookies-and-cream ice cream project

A Good Day

I had a great day!  Not for any big reason - it was just full of little delights.

My morning bus driver remembers that I grabbed a newspaper once last week and now always saves me one and hands it to me when I board.  I take for granted that I might be rememberable, but I suppose I can't help but stick out in the ethnic and age mix of Hawaii bus riders.  I always like to think I can blend into a crowd, but I think I'm just kidding myself sometimes.

I got downtown with enough time to pop in to a cafe/roaster downtown and get a latte.  And mine had a heart in it today.

After those two shots of espresso, I was totally wired.  I described myself to a friend as "barely containable"... and was only half joking.

I had a handful of appointments today, including an easy graduation audit, a double-major advising, and a degree plan and general advice.  Most appointments are solo - not much shadowing any more.  I routinely think that I'm not ready for the training wheels to come off just yet, but my mentor advisors think I am, and they let me take the lead.  I find myself pleasantly surprised with what I am capable of, more often than I am confronted by the things I don't know.  I don't know when, exactly, that ratio turned around, but I'm glad it did.

I'm so glad to be into advising now - it was so much of what I did on any given day that it's nice to make it my primary job description.  But recently I've been ... concerned about what I've been brought here to do.    I know it's still early - it hasn't even been two months at my job yet! - but most of my appointments have been very quick graduation audits.  I just make sure students, who are in their last semester, have completed their degree requirements - and it's not surprising that it's difficult (if not impossible) to forge relationships with them.  It's not the point, really.  I haven't yet had many degree-planning meetings with students, in which I will actually start to get to know them.  I understand that relationships need time to be cultivated.  But I've been concerned with the change in rhythm from teaching and the comparative ease with which I could speak into students' lives.  You can't help but forge those relationships when students barrel into your classroom on a daily basis. And how would that ever happen when I don't teach now?  But I also know that all I have to do is be available; ministry can't help but happen (1).  So I've been struggling with thoughts I know better than to dwell on - I just need to trust and be patient.

My last appointment of the day was counseling a student about finishing her undergrad degree, getting into education and teaching high school.  PERFECT.  She had a bundle of questions and was really personable.  She'll be back for several more appointments concerning graduation and her grad program.  It was exactly the glimpse of my career to come that was the exact antidote to all the prior concern.

Midway through the morning, an email arrived in my inbox, inviting me to this year's AP Reading!  And it's in the midwest, where I have family and friends.  I LOVED the reading I attended a couple years ago.  Completely unlike any conference I've ever attended (plus the stipend isn't shabby).  So, a nice professional-development opportunity, a good excuse to return to the mainland - even if briefly - this summer, and it might overlap with some of my former colleagues!

I had a lovely online conversation with a friend in which I quoted one of my favorite passages from one of my favorite books.  Last night, the very excerpt popped into my head while I was sorting laundry.  The Holy Spirit knew we'd need it the next day.

A midday appointment cancelled, so I decided to push lunch back so I could attend a weekly campus chapel service in the building next door.  We're still looking for a church home, still trying to figure out what the search should even look like (that deserves its own post later), so I thought a mid-week service on a college campus might be worthwhile.  Particularly since it's the beginning of the reflective Lenten season.  But lunch today, instead, brought a phone call from a dear friend, and I decided to stay at my desk and converse with him . I like to think I chose the better part.  I'll aim for chapel next week.

All these joys kept me in a great mood right up through closing time.  At the end of the day, I walked out to catch the bus, only to catch this rainbow first.  The rainy season weather has returned, with fresh trade winds and mauka showers that bring gentle rain and subsequent afternoon rainbows.  I can't believe I get to live here.

(1) Thank you, Frederick Buechner

President's Day

Brian and I both had the day off today, which was good, because he managed to get tickets to a taping of "Live With Kelly" (formerly Regis & Kelly).  Yeah yeah, I know, a taping of a live show...?  But if they were to actually show it live from Hawaii, it would have to start at 4am.  Anyhow, it was at the new Disney resort over at Ko Olina, which we've driven past but never been to.  It was windy and sunny day - and I forgot the sunscreen I specifically put out on the kitchen counter... I don't seem too burned, at least yet.  The episode airs Wednesday, with Carrie-Ann Inaba, Patricia Heaton, and Carson Kressly.  And a couple who won a wedding here in Hawaii with 30 friends and family - and quite possibly the least enthused to have won such a prize.  Very curious.  Anyhow.

 Aulani resort

 Paddle dancers

 Kelly and Carrie-Ann

 With Patricia

With Carson

We got home and I did some cooking, including some Butter Mochi.  The reviews of a recipe suggested making it in cupcake pans because the outside part is the best part.  And so I made miniature mochi bites!   

Mochi requires rice flour like this Mochiko:

I took about half the mixture and blended a few spoonsful of cocoa for cocoa-haupia-style mochi.

Half the recipe made four pans of mini-muffin-shaped mochi bites. 

They're reasonably good - they have that unique mochi chewiness, but with the richness of eggs and butter. I've been told they will taste better on day 2.  So, I'll try to report back. :)

Mint Chip Goodness

I've been enjoying a kitchen renaissance lately, with my luxurious free time.  Good for the soul, bad for the waistline...

Last week, I made some mint-chip cookies (sorry for the lame photo - I didn't take any until I only had one left. :) Forgive also the crummy photo quality - the kitchen's a wreck, and I want to get back into the habit of posting.)  Anyhow, it was everything I love about mint-chip ice cream, my favorite ice cream flavor, in cookie form!  Peppermint - not spearmint - flavor and green!  I skipped the rolling-pin and cookie-cutter step, opting to roll out balls of dough and flatten them with the bottom of a drinking glass.

I've been making Nutella ice cream that's simply a 1:1 ratio of Nutella and evaporated milk.  It. Is. Heavenly.  Especially straight out of the ice cream maker - sumptuous and silky, almost gelato-like.  So good.  Anyhow, I looked today for more recipes using evaporated milk, but found a ton that use sweetened condensed milk in place of the usual egg custard base.  And when I found a mint chip one, I couldn't resist.  My initial lick off the dasher was pretty good - we'll see how it freezes up.  I particularly love the stracciatella technique - drizzling melted chocolate into the ice cream maker in the last stage of freezing.  It produces softer chocolate flakes instead of hard chips.  If I did it again (and I likely will), I will use chocolate thinned out with some shortening to produce an even softer chocolate flake - aiming for the effect I've tasted in ice creams like Graeter's.  Meanwhile, I'll happily make quick work of this batch. :)

The cookie photo showcases one of my new set of dishes.  It had been almost 13 years since we got our last set of dishes (for our wedding), and they were starting to look a little dated.  Figured a big move would be a good excuse to get a new set, found a group at Pier 1 that I liked, in a variety of patterns, so they coordinate but aren't matchy-matchy.  We have small plates and bowls in the zebra pattern you see, plus plates and bowls in four other similar patterns.  They went on clearance last week, and living on an island, I've found it's important to gobble things up when I can - they might not be there later, and it's not like we can drive to many other stores...

Hawaii Delights

Had a good grocery outing today.  I think I've become completely desensitized to Hawaii food prices.  The numbers that used to give me pause no longer do.  I passed up some local lilikoi butter - but I might wait until I make some headway on my apricot jam, with some scones I hope to make later this week.  I'd like to go to the Whole Foods here and see if they have double cream.  Maybe I should reserve judgment on grocery prices until I see what that stuff commands!

One thing I see in the store often is this stuff called Butter Mochi.  I have been tempted on the last few outings, but can't quite justify the price for something I'm not sure I'll like.  I think I will.  I like regular mochi, which some think has a wonky texture, so the addition of butter can't be much more than gilding the lily.  But, still.  Anyhow, the rice flour that's used to make mochi is not so pricey, so I bought a box and came home and researched some recipes.  Found one that I'm looking forward to trying this week!  I might make half as directed and the other half with a little cocoa blended in for a bit of a Ted's chocolate-haupia pie riff. I shall report back!

The rainy season seems to have returned.  Right after we arrived, it seemed like we had gentle rain showers every evening and morning, sometimes intermittently throughout the day. Rainbows too!  But that seemed to stop in January.  We've been getting more showers again in the evenings - including a heavy one right now.  Friday morning, I left the house in a dreary rain, and halfway on the way into town, the sun broke free of the clouds, as if summoned by the David Crowder song that was on my ipod at the time.  It was one of those mornings in which I just couldn't believe I get to live here.  Unspeakably beautiful.  And I get to experience it. Every. Day.  I am so incredibly grateful to get to be a part of it, even as merely a witness - to be a participant in the glory of God's creation here.  It would go on being spectacular, even if nobody is here to see it.  But surely it's all magnified somehow, by someone who notices it.  

And, you know, maybe that can be said of people, too.  Something is catalyzed when another takes notice of someone's magnificence.  May we all have such a catalyst, or else be that catalyst.

Peace and love, friends.