Belonging to Heaven, page 7
“Are you talking about revelation in this day?”
“We are, sir.”
“Revelation to a prophet?”
Brother Bigler’s voice was calm. “That is what we preach, sir.”
“I don’t believe in such poppycock.”
Brother Keeler stood and came forward. He looked past the man to the other congregants. “We invite you to pray and find out for yourself.” Several angry murmurs punctuated the group. “I have done so, and I know what these gentlemen have been preaching is true. May the Lord help you to find out for yourself. We would be glad to answer questions after the meeting.” He took a breath and dismissed the meeting.
No one stayed to ask questions.
George was weary from the long day, and discouraged by the spirit of opposition that had brought the meeting to a close. He kicked his feet in the red dirt as they trudged their way back to their hut.
“I’m sorry I let you down, brethren.”
Brother Keeler gave him a questioning look. “How do you mean, Brother Cannon?”
“I couldn’t find the words to defend the faith.”
“The man was intimidating.”
“But, I should have found the faith—like David before Goliath.”
Brother Bigler patted him on the back. “Don’t worry, I’m sure there are going to be more Goliaths to face.” He fanned his face with his Bible. “Your discourse on the Holy Ghost was good—short, but good.”
George smiled. “At least the man saved me from making a fool of myself.” His mood turned serious. “I just don’t understand why people won’t consider revelation and modern-day prophets. I heard the Prophet Joseph speak on many occasions. He had less education than me, but when he spoke the words of truth and revelation, they went right through to my heart.”
“Amen,” Brother Keeler said, and Brother Bigler nodded.
George stopped abruptly. “Brothers, today made me more convinced than ever that we are on the right course. We are to learn the language and preach to the good Hawaiian people. Their hearts are more open to the truth.”
Brother Bigler started walking. “Learn the language, he says, as if that’s an easy thing.”
George hurried to catch up to him. “It will not be an easy thing, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. Ikaika mauna, Brother Bigler.”
“And what does that mean?”
George grinned. “I think it means strong mountain.”
Brother Keeler caught the spirit of George’s words. “I will look to the mountains whence cometh my strength. If thou had faith to say unto this mountain, remove, then it would remove. Who shall ascend unto the hill of the Lord? Upon this rock I will build my church!”
By the end of Brother Keeler’s vibrant preaching they were all laughing, and George felt the cold disappointment of the afternoon lift from his heart.
George went to bed that night with a myriad of scriptures about hills and mountains bumping around in his head, and in his dreams he was climbing mountains and descending into valleys. In the valleys he met beautiful brown-skinned people who gave him water from calabash bowls, and fruit from their trees. They were smiling and glad to see him. He felt peace and acceptance surround him. A dark storm cloud sat on the edge of the shoreline and he saw rain and flashes of lightning. Uwila. Was that the Hawaiian word for lightning? He was in a native congregation and he understood them, and he could speak to them. His heart swelled, and tears leaked from his eyes to water his pillow. He wanted the dream never to end.
Chapter 7
Lahaina, Maui
January 13, 1851
Dear President Clark,
Being that we are very low on funds and are unable to pay for our house, Brother Bigler, Brother Keeler, and myself are going out today to see if there are people who will take us in. Brother Bigler and Brother Keeler are already hunting and I will go as soon as I finish this letter. It is likely that we will have to split up because it would be difficult for a family to house all three of us. This is a great sadness, but we will do what we must in order to remain on the island to preach. Thank you for your letter of encouragement in our learning the language and in preaching to the native population. We feel prompted in this direction. If possible would you please send us two vocabularies of the Native for Brother Keeler and myself?
There was a sound at the door and George looked up from his letter writing to see Keala and his wife Pau standing in the doorway to the hale. George’s face brightened and he stood. “Keala! Pau! Aloha! Come in, come in. Is it time for our lesson?” George knew he easily lost track of time when he was writing or reading.
The couple came into the hut. Keala reached out his hand, which George took. “It is not lesson time, Brother Cannon,” Keala said grinning. “Little while. We come early to talk about problem.”
“A problem?” George motioned for them to sit and they all sat down cross-legged on the mats. “Perhaps I can help.”
Keala shook his head and looked at Pau. “It is not our problem. It is your problem.”
“My problem?”
“Earlier today we saw Brother Bigler going out with a note in his hand. He looked troubled. We went to talk to him. He hands us the note. On note is written Hawaiian words and English words. It says that you are looking for a place to stay.”
George felt emotion wash over him as he saw the looks of concern on his teachers’ faces. He nodded. “Yes, we have no money for our hale, so we must move.”
Pau sat forward. “Hoalo ‘ha. Friend. I have brought my mother and sister. They wish to speak to you. May they enter your hale?”
“Of course,” George said, standing.
Pau went to the door of the hale and called softly to her mother and sister. When they entered, she brought them forward. “Brother Cannon, this is my mother, Nalimanui, and my sister, Hoohuli. My sister is married to the Spaniard.”
George gently took the women’s hands in turn. “Yes, I know them. I have seen them. Aloha. Please sit.”
Pau translated to her mother who beamed at being recognized, and she and Hoohuli sat. “My mother wishes to speak to you.”
George nodded.
Nalimanui began to speak in a soft Hawaiian voice, and Pau translated. “White men who come to the islands do not always behave themselves as they should. It is sad. We see some who act hilahi ‘la maoli.” She looked to her husband for the translation.
“Disgraceful.”
“Yes, disgraceful.” Her mother began speaking again. “They think because they are among the children of the land they can give up all goodness.” Nalimanui put her finger to her eye. “But we see very well. We watch. We see that you are not like most whites. You are gentle, and you try to learn our language.”
George nodded and fought to control his emotions. He was touched not only by what the gracious woman was saying, but because he understood many of the Hawaiian words she spoke.
“My daughter has told me that you and the other missionaries must leave your house. This is not good.” Pau stopped translating and let her mother speak without interruption. When Nalimanui stopped speaking and smiled at George, Pau translated. “My mother wishes to give you her house. It is small and not very good, but it has a garden, and you may keep it for as long as you need.”
George was stunned. “But where . . . where will she stay?”
“She will stay with my sister Hoohuli and her husband.” Hoohuli nodded.
Tears ran down George’s face. Never in his life had he been more grateful than for this offering of shelter from this dear woman. “We have no money, but we will give her blankets or anything else she wants. We will work in her garden. We will fish for her.”
Pau translated his words to her mother, who smiled and nodded. She put her hand over her heart and spoke a few more words. “Mother says we will spend the day putting the house in order and you may move in tomorrow.” Nalimanui began to stand, and her son-in-law, Keala, helped her. The others stood also, and George approached.
“Mahalo, dear mother. Mahalo nui, hoalo ‘ha.”
Nalimanui patted his cheek. “Keiki. Hapapa hewa ka malihini makamaka ‘ole.
George looked at Pau for the meaning of the words.
“A stranger without a friend feels lost.”
The tears started again, and George took Nalimanui’s hands. “The Lord bless you for your goodness.”
Nalimanui patted his cheek again and turned to leave.
The other family members followed her, and Keala stopped at the door and turned back smiling. “No lesson today! We will be cleaning a house.”
Brother Keeler came in, bumping into Keala who had turned to go. “Oh! I’m sorry, Keala. Keala? Where are you going? Don’t we have a lesson?”
“No lesson today!” Keala called back.
Brother Keeler shook his head. “What was that all about?” He came closer and noticed George wiping tears from his face. “Are you all right? What’s been happening?”
George’s face broke into a smile. “Pau’s mother, Nalimanui, has given us her house to live in.”
Brother Keeler sat down abruptly on a stack of mats. “Not just a room for us to sleep in?”
“No, a house.”
“I can’t wait to see the look on Brother Bigler’s face. It is a miracle.”
“A generous miracle,” George answered.
“It might have been your birthday a few days ago, Brother Cannon, but I think you were given your birthday gift today.”
George nodded. “Words of truth, Brother Keeler.” He moved back to the desk to affix a final note to the end of the letter to President Clark.
President,
I heartily testify that the Lord is aware of all His children. A dear woman in the area by the name of Nalimanui has given us her house in which to live. We are humbly grateful for her kindness, and ask that you remember her in your prayers. The hearts of the Hawaiian people are full of goodness, and I am more determined than ever to learn the language so I can speak to them friend to friend.
A servant of the Lord,
Brother George Cannon
Note
Nalimanui, whose name means “big hands,” was instrumental in helping the early missionaries in Lahaina, Maui. From her hands came food and shelter, and from her heart the true meaning of aloha.
Chapter 8
Kula, Maui
February 12, 1851
Jonathan admired Kitty’s beauty as she rode sidesaddle on her elegant black mare. In her English riding dress, Jonathan could easily imagine his wife riding in London, or down the streets of Edinburgh. Her father, the Scotsman, had often promised to take his family back to his homeland, but the years passed and the plans were never realized. Knowing John Richardson, Jonathan figured that the moors of Scotland no longer held any allure for him, and that he was content ruling his own little Polynesian kingdom, where he and his family were highly regarded.
Kitty’s hair was woven into a thick braid down her back, and on her head sat a stylish straw hat festooned with maile leaves and lehua flowers. Jonathan studied her profile and saw that a healthy glow had returned to her skin. Perhaps the pall of sadness that diminished her spirit and body was slowly relinquishing its sullen grasp. Kitty turned her head to smile at him, and Jonathan felt brightness fill his heart. Suddenly the day of hard work did not seem so tedious.
They had started early from their house in Wailuku, riding to check on the newly planted potatoes at the farm in Pulehu. They would meet with Akuna Pake, the farm manager, walk the fields, and share a scant meal. They would also deliver the foodstuffs to Akuna and his wife, Honua. It was something he and Kitty did twice a month, and Jonathan knew the couple looked forward to the stores of kalo, fruit, vegetables, and fish that supplemented their diet of potatoes.
Jonathan looked around at the unique landscape of the Kula region. He had a fondness for the gentle, rolling grasslands that rose to meet the steeper heights of the great mountain Haleakala. He loved the patches of cactus and the groves of eucalyptus trees newly introduced to the islands. He loved the swirling fog that often covered the face of the great mountain. Others might dismiss the rugged land as nonproductive or belittle the drier, cooler temperatures, but Jonathan had always thought that a small house or thatched hale on the mountainside, where he could escape the world, was a worthwhile dream.
“You look content.”
Jonathan gave his wife a crooked grin. “You know me.”
“I do.” She laughed. “And, I know that with every mile we travel up the sacred mountain, your heart feels lighter.”
“I suppose I love the simple way of life here.”
Kitty looked around. “I could live here.”
Jonathan was shocked. “You could?”
Kitty laughed again. “For one day. Then I would miss my house and my friends.”
“Ah, yes. Your influential friends.”
“Do not make fun of my friends,” Kitty said, good-naturedly. “They provide a lot of service to the community.”
“Not to mention a lot of business to the merchants.”
“Jonathan!”
“I am only teasing you.” He gave her a wink. “It is good to hear you laugh.”
Kitty was not inclined to let the conversation go. “Besides, as your wife I have a position to uphold.”
“We are only little fish in the big Moloka‘i fish ponds, my Keliikuaaina.”
“Huh! You may be a little fish, but I am a shark!” She put her hand on the top of her hat and shouted her horse to a gallop.
Jonathan laughed loudly and rode fast to catch up.
Kitty reached the small farmhouse just seconds before Jonathan, and both were laughing when Honua scrambled out onto the front porch. The poor woman was flustered by the abrupt arrival of the honored couple and unsure how to handle their disorderly behavior.
“I . . . well . . . yes. Here you are.”
Kitty took on a more dignified demeanor. “Yes, Honua, here we are. Sorry to have startled you.”
Jonathan could tell that Honua was calmed by Kitty’s soothing and elegant tone, but he could also tell that the woman was painfully aware of her casual speech and appearance that contrasted starkly with Kitty’s precise articulation and impeccable look.
“Aloha, Honua!” Jonathan said, his voice warm and inclusive. “Where is that lazy husband of yours?”
Honua laughed as Jonathan slid from his horse. “Oh, that one? He is probably asleep under a rock somewhere.”
Jonathan laughed with her as he helped Kitty down from her horse. “Well, I do not pay him for sleeping.”
“If you did, he would be a rich man!”
“Who is lazy?” Akuna Pake asked as he came around the side of the house. “I work from morning to night.” The man was a head shorter than Jonathan, but much broader of shoulder. His face held the wrinkles of much laughter and his eyes the glint of a good storyteller. He went to Jonathan and gave a little bow. “Aloha, Napela. How is your life?”
“My live is good, Akuna Pake. How is your life?”
Pake took Jonathan’s hand and shook it heartily. “My life is better now that I see my friend.” He turned to Kitty, put his hat over his heart, and bowed deeply. “It is always an honor to have you at our humble home.”
Kitty smiled. “You say that to me every time we visit.”
Akuna Pake straightened and put his hat on his head. “That is because it is true every time.”
Jonathan thumped Pake on the shoulder. “Well, I say we get these goods unloaded, and then to work!”
“Right! No good being lazy!”
The rest of the afternoon the men walked the field of fledgling potato plants as Honua attended to household chores and Kitty went over the farm accounts. They ate a simple meal together under the small kou tree. Honua was, as always, apologetic for the sparse meal and chipped plates. Jonathan and Kitty left soon after supper ended.
***
“Perhaps I will not come with you the next time,” Kitty said as they rode home in the early evening.
“Why do you say that?”
Kitty adjusted her leather riding glove. “Well, I always seem to make Honua so nervous.”
“That is just Honua’s nature. She is either grumpy or nervous.”
“Jonathan.”
“It’s true! Besides, I love the long ride home together in the twilight. You would not deny me that pleasure, would you?”
Kitty smiled. “Of course not.”
They rode along in silence, listening to the evening choir of birdsong and watching the sun set into a ginger mist at the edge of the western world.
“I am glad you are here with me ku‘uipo.” Sweetheart. “There is something I wish to share with you and now is the right time.”
“What is it, Jonathan?”
“We have both been walking in sadness since our little Kapo walked the rainbow.”
Kitty glanced at him and nodded.
“Remember I promised you that I would pray until an answer came to me?”
She pulled her horse to a stop and looked at him directly. “And has an answer come?”
He stopped beside her. “I have had a dream. He ho ‘ike na ka po.” A revelation of the night.
“Tell me.”
“I was standing at the edge of a large field. It was so large that I could not see the end of it. In all the large field there was not a bush or a tree. There was not a breath of wind, and yet I thought I heard voices whispering. I could not understand what they were saying. My mind thought of Enocha and Kapo, and I asked them to tell me where they were so we would not be so sad.” Jonathan reached over and brushed a tear off Kitty’s cheek. “I looked to my side, and a young man in white clothing stood next to me. He spoke to me, and he taught me many wonderful things.”
“What did he teach you?”
“I don’t know. In the dream I did not hear the words, but my heart knew that they were good words—true words.”
Kitty sat pondering. “It is a deep dream, but it does not tell us about our babies.”
