Yesterday we decided to go back to basics, just the two of us for the day, we would have a double date in the evening, so the day was just us.
We played hooky from church.
We got up and hung around our expansive room. Buckwheat read; I looked for College Football results.
Buckwheat says “Lets walk up to Denny’s for breakfast, then over to Wal-Mart for some little shopping, groceries and some clothes for the grandkids.”
No Vog today, the sky was a bright blue, the ocean a bright blue. As we held hands walking to Wal-Mart and Denny’s I had the funny thought that life can’t be much greater than being with the one you love, walking, talking, with no agenda, or people, just one another being energized by God’s nature and each other. A very nice Trade Wind cooled our faces.
Walking back down the hill from our eating and shopping, getting ready to take the shortcut to Hale Ola, we run into all of our Canadian friends, who like us a couple of Sunday’s ago, give us a ration for missing church, all in fun, the pace is so ridicules as Mission Builders, that we’ve all stolen any time to be by ourselves, and that includes missing church, or, shame of shames, missing Thursday night mandatory YWAM worship service, but that was just one Canadian couple, just one time…I think.
Buckwheat and I ditched the northerners, and made our way down to our little beach by the Kailua Pier, alone all day, swimming, floating, reading, swimming, floating and talking, reading, floating and talking, all distractions were faint, adding to our aloneness. The sky and water were perfectly married, as was the breeze we were inhaling.
After a few hours of this battery charging we head up to our little Wyland’s Coffee and Ice Cream place, the one overlooking Bubba Gumps and the water. We get one Root Beer Float, two spoons, one bag of chips and talking as we look over this most beautiful of sights. Birds, smells and the aloneness add to the Root Beer Float.
We walk very slowly home and take a nap.
We then go to dinner with Vern and Karen, the Chef of the kitchen at YWAM. The dinner is on us, they are missionaries, and are on the normal missionary fixed, miracle dependent, budget.
Billy Rae’s was awesome, great place, open air sides, vibrant Hawaiian colors.
Their story is like everyone’s story over here, amazing and full of God intervention stuff, really wild, God intervention stuff, we ask, they tell. Three and a half hours later we head home.
It’s raining; normally not a problem, but they pick us up for dinner in a…pick-up truck.
Vern and I sit in the bed of the truck. It’s raining, the girls forget it’s raining and talk, talk, talk, as we stay parked in the parking spot, talking, talking, talking, finally Vern realizes that we haven’t backed out of our spot, as rain pours down his face, he bangs on the window, startling Karen into action…slow action.
We bounce our way home, talking in a bouncing truck sounded like, putting your hand over a baby’s mouth while they make a little sound, you then lift your hand up and down over their mouths, this is great fun for baby’s to hear their voices vibrate and fluctuate, but not good for serious conversations. The only thing that could have made Vern and my conversation sound more ridicules is if we sucked on helium.
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