Gentle Readers,
It has been almost two months since I last visited with you here.
My muse has been quiet during this season. My thoughts have been occupied with leaving and arriving—leaving the island where I have spent the past three years and returning to the place where this new season of my life truly began. My deadline is arriving sooner than I first thought. By August 1st, I will be landing in DC to rejoin my life in Maryland!
Sorting through what to ship now and what can remain until the family household move next year has taxed my practical side, my emotions, and my finances.
At present, I am muddling through life surrounded by books, clothing, memorabilia, artwork, and far too many decisions.
I even asked AI to help organize the whole affair and was given a step-by-step plan that I am faithfully attempting to follow. This kind of planning overwhelms me so easily, and I have discovered that an unemotional collaborator is a wonderful thing. (I highly recommend one!) 😊
What must I take with me so I can continue working remotely? All those company files! Oh my! I’m still a paper monger. LOL! What will I want nearby when my creative spirit awakens again? Which clothes belong in a place with four seasons instead of endless summer?
My thoughts are also occupied with reconnecting with former physicians, searching for a church with a bus ministry that can ferry me to and from services, since I have chosen not to own a vehicle, and daydreaming about the winter garden I hope to plant and the seedlings I long to start in a greenhouse.
Those thoughts have crowded out the words I usually find so easily to write about caregiving, grief, faith, and the ordinary moments where God quietly meets us.
Instead, I have been cooking.
Cooking has become my creative outlet once again. It gives me something tangible to make, allows me to feel productive, and reminds me that love is often expressed through simple acts of service. There is comfort in stirring a pot of soup, baking cornbread, or preparing a meal for family.
Each passing day brings me closer to reuniting with the last home Fred and I shared together—the home where we spent his final days on this earth. It has been a little over four years now, a span of time that somehow feels both like yesterday and like an entire lifetime ago.
I did not bring Fred’s ashes with me to Hawaii. At the time, navigating the regulations felt like more than I could manage. His urn has been waiting for me, and I look forward to having that tangible reminder of him beside me once again.
I hope that doesn’t sound sad or desperate. It simply feels right. It is time.
Leaving Hawaii will not be easy.
I will miss this island that lives out Aloha—graciousness—and Ohana—family—in everyday life. I will miss conversations in grocery stores, time with treasured friends, the remarkable bus system, the ease of walking almost everywhere, and those breathtaking moments when mountain peaks stand watch over the ocean.
Yet Maryland calls me home in other ways.
It returns me to the same time zone as most of my family and my work. It places North Carolina only a short flight, an overnight train, or a bus ride away. Even Colorado becomes far more reachable than it ever was across the Pacific.
More than anything, I believe with all my heart that God brought me to Hawaii.
He gave me sunshine when my soul needed light.
He gave me distance when my heart needed healing.
He gave me time to recover emotionally, spiritually, and physically.
Now, I believe He is gently calling me home.
So, if my words are fewer for a little while longer, know that they are not gone. They are simply being gathered, like boxes waiting to be unpacked.
Until I find my writing legs again, may this blessing be yours:
“The Lord bless you, and keep you;
The Lord make His face shine on you, and be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance on you, and give you peace.”
Numbers 6:24–26 (NASB)
Until these gathered words find their way back to the page…
Gritty Granny here . . .
Keeping the light on and the pathway clear… one day at a time.
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