A Speck of Reality & the Kohala Cocoon

We have been residents of this beautiful Hawaiian island for 3 weeks as of today. Wow, it feels like so much longer in many ways! I love that I am sitting here in my capris and always-dirty bare feet comfortably listening to the crickets play their tunes outside...and I'm WARM! It's like a Redding summer night I loved as a kid, except that it gets darker much earlier here. :) I do love it here. Did I mention how much I love seeing my boys play outside everyday, in WINTER??? And to hear little knocks at the door followed by the sweet request, "Can Alex play?" Then, out the door goes Alex, with Aaron following close behind, to play with the neighbor boy.

Last night we went out for a fabulous sushi dinner at a well-hidden local restaurant. I heard the waiter say, "All the ingredients were grown here on the island..." to a table nearby and I was surprised by the moment of panic I felt! I can only liken it to hearing the pilot of the airplane interrupt my sleep by announcing how many thousands of feet up in the air we were. I had to stop and catch my breath! An island. I live on an island. Yes, that little speck in the big, big ocean. Not just on it, but on the very edge of it. If someone sneezes we might fall off that cliff we see just across the street and down the dirt road a bit.

It's so easy to forget in our daily life here that we're surrounded by the ocean on all sides. Sure, so I can see the ocean from just about anywhere in town. And if I drive an hour south, it's still there. Two hours east, it's still there. I realized I have already become so focused on our semi-glamorous life here along a 4-mile stretch of country highway that I forgot how small we really are on this big planet. For all I know, I'm a Who on a speck on a flower easily blown to pieces by the wind.

Aw, and now the rain begins pitter-pattering on our metal roof. I love, love, love it.

And then there's my husband who finds himself in what he calls the Kohala cocoon. Detached, disconnected, shut down, turned off. No, this isn't a new condition. He came here this way. Only now the distractions are gone and the cocoon has made it's presence clear. No longer is he a Worship Pastor, an Administrative Pastor, a business teacher AND owner, an entrepreneur, a dad and a husband requiring more hours in a week than he has. Gone is the office outside of the home and the church calling him away at night. The friends and family who hoped for bits of his time here and there are now held back by an ocean.

I am ecstatic to have my husband back and for the kids to have their dad back. We're together nearly all day, even if he's in the other room engrossed in his work on the computer. It's nice just having him around. But, as I've felt for quite some time, he's not the "him" I used to know. The light has burned out. Now is his time to recharge. (Wow, the rain is REALLY pounding down now!) I know, after some time to rest, my husband will break out of this Kohala cocoon and discover a whole new version of his old self. I'm excited to watch that happen. A little time in the waves here and tinkering on the guitar there is just what he needs. I have no idea how long this hibernation period of his will last, but I am very thankful we came to Hawaii when we did. This is just what our family needed.