The sun was soon to rise and I was groggy from yesterday’s travel. I crept past my snoring mother-in-law and opened the sliding door to the hotel’s high-rise lanai in the Waikiki city jungle. I was filled with guilt and disappointment and I called home knowing my dad would answer the phone. “Dad, Hi, I wish you were here and not Dan’s mom. I wanted you and mom to come with us but knew that wouldn’t be possible. Dad, the sun is beginning to rise. I miss you.”
I can remember his meditative pause and hear him in a far away remembering voice say, “Yes, we had good times in Hawaii.” I reminisced with him about the trip we took in 1966 and then asked him, “Dad, how many times did you go to Hawaii?” Trying to justify watching the sun’s glow in a place we lovingly recalled with awe as his life was swiftly fading to an end.
That long ago Christmas vacation was brought back to life over and over again in my parents’ home with their Hawaiian albums on the stereo’s indoor and outdoor speakers. Monkey pod bowls, straw hats, countless classic flowered shirts, dresses and Mai Tai’s brought them back to golden sunshine and good times. That trip seared deep in my heart “family joy in paradise.” It was magical thinking for a fourteen-year old daughter wanting her parents to be happy. I clung to it ferociously.
I crept back into the hotel room and awakened Dan’s mother so we could travel to a different part of the island. For the next nine days Dan’s mother was miserable with every activity we did. Her only happy moment was when a man in the Marriot laundry facility spoke to her. In her mind he was flirting with her. My being kind to her took the concentration of a tight ropewalker over Niagara Falls and I would have fallen to my death a thousand times if I had actually been on that tightrope.
It wasn’t long after returning from that trip that my father spent his final nineteen days in a Hospice Care facility refusing food and water after he said no to three physicians who claimed they could easily “save” him. Thirteen months later we buried my mother on Mother’s Day. After her funeral we went to my parents’ home and my sister and brother and I decided to get out the Da-Lite screen and slide projector and view old family slides. I don’t think I had done that since high school.
In the surreal state of an unexpected funeral we sat in the living room with our daughter’s new fiancé and I unashamedly embellished my young heart in viewing the youthfulness of my parents who were now gone. It was odd to not care about boring my children. I sat mesmerized on a couch that I had sat on for hundreds of days and holidays gone by.
When we got to the carousel of our Hawaii trip, I was incredulous when I saw my dull and petulant expressions. I spoke out loud and said, “What was wrong with me? I don’t know why I look so unhappy?” My sister fiercely spoke, “Don’t you remember how they fought the entire trip? They were miserable and couldn’t get along for an hour without arguing.” I couldn’t speak because that is not at all what I had remembered and had clung to for all of these years. In a few sentences, the illusion of a happy family in Hawaii was shattered.
Illusions need to die; dreams are to be resurrected from the ashes of disillusionment. Too often the loss of illusions simply turns our heart hard. It is the courageous outworking of redemption to yearn for dreams to be fulfilled.
Last winter we vacationed with friends in Hawaii. Walking a secluded beach known mostly to locals I let myself imagine taking our whole family to Hawaii for the following Christmas. We budgeted, scrimped, and saved. We used frequent flyer miles and I did the very thing I never do: arrange a vacation for our whole family. I found a house to rent and flights for eleven of us were booked. For ten months our whole family kept saying to one another, “I can’t wait until Hawaii.”
It had been a good, but at times, a hard year for all of us. In the midst of our struggles it seemed every time we got together or talked on the phone someone would say, “I can’t wait until Hawaii.” It is easy to ruin a trip by expecting too much out of it. It is equally easy to diminish the importance of an experience because we fear expecting too much out of it.
I had not expected the anticipation to be so great, and I worried about relational tensions, travel frustrations, or that renting the wrong house might darken our time. It didn’t.
Dan and I took walks every day to pray for each person in our family and for the goodness of our time together. On one of the walks we went farther than we had ever gone and ended up in an area that looked like the African savannah. We walked along the coast, high above the beach and then we saw the outline of a large multi level white building ahead.
I wondered if it was the Mauna Kea. That was the resort where we drove up in our rental station wagon, and my dad asked for valet parking. My mom got out of the car when her door was opened and she looked regal and beautiful like Audrey Hepburn.
I looked down at the Mauna Kea and in my mind I saw a fourteen-year old girl walking into the world’s most expensive hotel (at the time). We weren’t staying at the hotel, instead, my father scammed to get us to their beach dressed in our beach cover-ups through the lobby and down countless grand stairways to paradise. I hated being an imposter, but we didn’t get caught and it was one of the few idyllic afternoons of our trip. How could I know that one day, fifty-years later, so many of my dreams would come true?
What if eternity is the fulfillment of all the dreams we never knew we held, let alone the consummation of all the dreams that have partially come to be? One day we will know. One day….
Becky Allender lives on Bainbridge Island with her loving, wild husband of 38 years. A mother and grandmother, she is quite fond of sunshine, yoga, Hawaiian quilting and creating 17th Century reproduction samplers. A community of praying women, loving Jesus, and the art of gratitude fill her life with goodness. She wonders what she got herself into with Red Tent Living! bs
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Becky,
Your words are rich and your heart pure. Thank you for opening a window into a dream fulfilled and the glory of Gods delight in you! As we move up the spiral staircase we get to revisit old spaces and this story holds so much resurrection joy!
Blessings 💗
Jean
Dear Jean, thank you for your insightful comment. I love your phrase “spiral staircase”. It seems so fitting as the closer we get to heaven we see through a keener lens than our younger years. And you are right, “resurrection joy” is to be sought and reclaimed and remembered!
Oh Becky! I feel the tension of your young heart clinging to the illusion of a happy time and cheer for the incredible bravery of your generous plans for your family to spend Christmas together in Hawaii! The ache of expectation can be great when you are holding so much hope for others. I am so thankful for your kind and extravagant dream realized! It makes me want to shout hallelujah!!
Hooray for shouting Hallelujah!.I love that. And, oh my the tension calling home and desiring to be gracious to my mother-in-law and family. And yes, you are right, the shock and tension that came when my sister almost shouted words disclaiming my illusion. You are a keen reader and see the unseen.
Dear Becky, You unselfishly invited me on the walk with you and Dan that early morning as you came upon a place where your heart had years ago created an illusion and stuffed the reality of deep pain and discord. A young girl, now a grown woman reliving and reframing a difficult memory with beauty. You dreamed, you risked, you scrimped and saved and I’ve vicariously dreamed alongside you as I’ve seen your photos on facebook of this magical family gathering recently in Hawaii. You continue to invite me to look for places to face reality, dream of what could be and to risk. Thank you friend. Love, Valerie
Thank you, Valerie. You remain a woman of kind encouragement to me! And I love that God in His mercy and grace has allowed me to “invite you to look for places to face reality and dream of what could be and to risk.” Amazing.
Hugs to you friend….Love, Becky
Thank you for sharing from your heart…what wise word and such truth in regard to illusions. What great courage to orchestrate a family Christmas trip…so glad you pursued the desires of your heart.
grace and peace-joan
Dear Joan I miss you! Thank you for your encouragement. Peace and grace to you and I picture romping in the snow with your dearest, loyal companion.
Beautiful words and unforgettable time Mom!
Thank you sweetheart. You bless me with your wisdom and kindness. I love you.
Becky…I wanted to update you on my husband’s situation which we prayed about at the Wounded Heart Conference in November. Your words and your prayers helped me a lot as did Dan’s comment during the conference which was “do you love your husband more than your marriage”? it wasn’t a question simply asked of me, but I believe God intended it for me. It is with sadness that I tell you that my husband passed away Christmas night, after a being diagnosed with cancer just three weeks earlier. He died at home, with hospice care surrounded by so much love and grace that I know God himself looked down and smiled. He didn’t suffer, and now after our memorial service for him tomorrow, I will learn day by day how to move forward into the life God has for me.
I just wanted you to know I think of your kindness often.
Dear Joanne, oh my. Oh my. I am sorry to hear of the loss of your husband. I will be praying for you tomorrow (and now). May his memorial service be a balm of Jesus in every way. Blessings and hugs to you across the many miles.
Thank you for sharing your heart through your stories…
You are so welcome, Linda….And I am curious what is in your heart and life that allowed you to write this. May you be awakened to new and good parts of your life you did not know!
You are so welcome, Linda….And I am curious what is in your heart and life that allowed you to write this. May you be awakened to new and good parts of your life you did not know!
“I did the very thing I never do” This is the line that inspires me in this story and is one of many things that I admire about you ~ your willingness to risk and explore and stay open and grow. What a huge deal it must have been to make the arrangements and plan for this trip. I have not entered the realm of grandparenting, yet, and I have only one married child, but looking at the picture of your family and all of the individuals represented, including those sweet little ones, I see many personalities and much love. What an amazing gift it must have been to all be together in such a beautiful place. Amazing and messy and real. Thanks for giving us a peek into your younger girl’s heart and a glimpse into your family’s life today. Beautiful.
Dear Julie, Yes! It was a huge deal to book reservations and down payments for the house, etc. I worried too much and I hope next time I do something out of my comfort zone that I can remember the goodness of this experience. And you are right to name the many personalities too. There’s a lot of “tending to” and monitoring how happy everyone is and that is something I need to let go of more because it is just too depletion of my energy. I have to learn to let myself be at peace and enjoy what I am called to enjoy. (If that makes sense?) Thank you for your feedback!
“What if eternity is the fulfillment of all the dreams we never knew we held, let alone the consummation of all the dreams that have partially come to be?”
Oh my…I so hope!!
Thank you.
I hope so too! Isn’t it a new way to envision what heaven might be?
I had a feeling there was a story behind your trip to Hawaii with everyone! I love hearing your stories, Becky. So much. They encourage me because in them I see beauty from ashes, and I realize that even my heroes have sad pasts. Love to you and see you SOON!
Thank you Kelli! Thank you! So much beauty from the ashes. Our prayers…our hopes…strengthen muscles of hope and newness! I am excited to see you soon and I am thrilled this dream is coming true for you.
I am often amazed at the goodness the Lord brings to us when we step out into those things we never do. It is quite a journey!
You are so right! To step out into those things we never do is such a leap of faith and changes our journey forever! Faith goes hand in hand in this. Thanks for your comment.
I loved this Becky! I enjoyed how you wove parts of your story and trips to Hawaii and then transformed your writing to your hope and time with your precious family. I was struck particularly when you wrote “It is easy to ruin a trip by expecting too much out of it. It is equally easy to diminish the importance of an experience because we fear expecting too much out of it.” This is the tension that I live each encounter with family…and I absolutely love how you both walked and prayed for that time together. Such a beautiful invitation.
Thank you so much for your kind reply! It is good to know that other moms are like me holding that tension of expectations being too great. Oh how we want so much for our children to continue loving one another, their spouses, nieces, nephews, etc., knowing that our days are numbered and desiring so much for them. (And us!) Thank you again for your kind words.