We have now been in Hawaii a few weeks, and we feel mostly acclimatized. It actually didn’t take long to settle in. We have a nice above-ground basement apartment in a rural part of the island on the outskirts of Laie. It takes us maybe 1½ minutes to walk to the beach, which is across the two-lane highway in front of our apartment. It actually takes us a few minutes longer depending on how long we have to wait for a break in the traffic. The beach is called Pounders Beach because of the rough surf. We don’t get huge waves because there is an offshore reef that absorbs some of the waves’ energy. But the waves are frequent and a bit turbulent. It doesn’t stop the kids from body surfing and wave skimming. It’s fun to watch people play in the surf.

Storm offshore from Pounders Beach. Soon after this exposure, we were drenched in heavy rain and ran for cover.

There is a lot of wildlife in and around our apartment. We have an infestation of geckos inside. The locals tell us to leave the little green lizards alone because they eat the roaches and ants. Maybe that is so, but the truth is we live with roaches, ants, and flies anyway, along with the geckos. The roaches are big and ugly. Outdoors, we are surrounded by feral chickens. If we leave the door open, they’ll wander indoors. They’re probably after the roaches. Next door lives a friendly pig and his best bud, a dog. They chased us into our apartment the first day. They are always playing together.

A few miles down the Kamehameha Highway from our apartment is a cemetery and memorial for different faiths. This is a replica of a Japanese temple.

After a week of orientation and settling in, we have finally started discovering our daily responsibilities in the theatre. We arrive at the theatre around 5:00 for pre-show meetings, and then help the students prep the stage for the show that begins at 7:30. Virginia works in wardrobe, and I usually watch the show taking notes for problems that need attention. So far, things have been slow, and I can see simple routines forming for the both of us.

Sunrise from the northern end of Pounders Beach. Only 10 miles away, around the point of the island is Sunset Beach. One of these days when I am not working, I hope to shoot a sunset.

The best part of our jobs is the time we spend with the students. These kids come from all over the Pacific islands, Asia, and some from the mainland USA. For many of them, this is their first time away from home. Some come from primitive environments and are just learning to live on their own. English is a second language for most, and some are just beginning to learn it. The university, which sits adjacent to the Center provides a broad and well-developed support network to nurture these students along. Their work in the theatre and elsewhere at the Polynesian Cultural Center provides the financial opportunity to cover their education and living expenses. They study, attend classes in the morning, and then report to the Center where they demonstrate cultural skills, lead tours through representative villages from their home islands, or dance their hearts out in the evening stage show. The Polynesian Cultural Center also helps preserve these island cultures in a sort of living museum.

Remnants of an old pier off Pounders Beach at sunrise.

There is no question that an important aspect of our mission to Hawaii is to share our professional skills to help keep the Center operational. But perhaps the greatest work we will do over the next two years will be the quiet mentoring with these young people. In the Polynesian cultures, any elder in the community structure is referred to as Aunty or Uncle. We’ve already been addressed as such. Their view of family is much different than we are used to from our Western perspective. The Ohana, or family, is much broader and encompassing than what we were raised with. Children are often raised in extended families that includes not just direct family ties, but also the local community. There are thousands of these young persons who have chosen to leave their small island nations to come and study, to gain an education that will dramatically improve their entire family unit at home. We are privileged to be a part of their experience. They are beautiful and wholesome souls with a devoted faith in our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Every morning, as it has done for eons of time, the sun rises over the Pacific Ocean.

I learned a new word my second week here- “Liminal”. Liminal moments are transitional periods that mark significant times in our lives, the times which change us. The production we work on at the Polynesian Cultural Center is based on liminal moments that are common markers in life. They happen at birth, various rites of passage as we grow through childhood, courtship and then marriage, the death of a loved one, etc. “Liminal” comes from a Latin root that means threshold. Once we cross that threshold, we are no longer the same. I’ve been aware of these transitions in my own life for decades although I referred to them as “points of no return”, meaning I’ll never go back to my life as it was before that passage. Some liminal moments happen without our choice, such as birth, or facing the death of a loved one. Other times the liminal moment comes about by an act of faith. Let’s say you open a door to a dark room. You can’t see what lies within. The liminal moment occurs when you choose to step inside even when you can’t see where your foot will land. That is an act of faith. God gives us liminal choices as a means of proving us in a way that allows growth. In the darkest passages of life, we trust in Him, step into the dark, and find He lights the way. The room may not be fully illuminated, but we at least can see the immediate vicinity of where we stand. Step by step the room becomes brighter and brighter until we find ourselves bathed in the fullness of His warmth and love. Liminal moments are crucial to our developing faith, and faith brings us closer to His presence. I think Virginia and I passed a liminal threshold the morning we left our home in Orem, Utah and entered the Missionary Training Center. It was a little scary at first. When we return in two years, we’ll never be the same again. The mission will change us. It was a liminal choice; it was an act of faith.