At the End of Days

Tuesday, July 9,5:30am-

I arise to my alarm and get out of bed to pray for the district. Elder Lopez is still fast asleep, as are Elders Bass and Hollist in the next room over. I get up and begin to do my rounds of the apartment- 2 roaches in the kitchen, 1 in the bathroom. After taking care of those, I make sure all the dishes in the sink are done, and any left in the drying rack get properly stored. It's at this point that I begin to study Japanese by reading aloud from the Book of Mormon. I find it embarrassing when people listen to me read in Japanese, so I do it by myself to be able to get the most out of my study. As I finish my chapter I make my way back to my bed and pray again. Midway through the alarm goes off. 6:30am. Time to wake up. I start studies in English this time, and then eat my breakfast. I do this every morning. It helps me stay on top of things, or at least it helps me believe that I'm on top of things. Deep down I know control belongs to someone above me, but come what may I'll do my best to handle it. The only day that's different is Sunday. On Sundays, I sleep til 6:30. It is a day of rest after all.

Saturday: July 13, 5:30am.

There's the alarm again. Time to get out of bed. There's only one roach this time. Only one. I chuckle a little bit. How fitting it is that this is the last day, and this one is the last roach left. I almost take pity on it, but then I notice it's carrying eggs, and my pity quickly subsides. Once that's taken care of, it's time for dishes. There are more today than usual, but that's fine. I've grown to like doing this in the dishes morning. The stress begins to melt. 6:00am. Only 30 minutes until it's time to "get up". I read a few quick verses out of my now well used Japanese copy of the book of Mormon. I kneel down to pray at 6:28am. And thus ended the morning routine. I'll never be able to do this again. It's funny how the smallest little parts of your day, the parts you once thought were annoying or that you couldn't wait to be done with, you find yourself longing to have just one more chance to do them. Just for the experience. The atmosphere. I look up from my scriptures, out the window I see a pair of gorgeous yellow Saffron Finches. I admire their feathers, watching them play in the grass. Something inside of me longs for them to stay. As if the moment they leave I'll lose the memory of them forever. The birds chirp happily and fly away. I wonder if the other missionaries will ever take the time to notice the birds in the morning. The birds will never know that I noticed them. They'll keep doing what they've always done, and they'll be living happily in Hilo, the same world they were born into, the only place they've ever known, and they'll never have to leave until they die. Part of me envies them. Part of me feels bad for them. Part of me knows it doesn't matter. I snap myself out of it. How long was I sitting there, I wonder? What is time anyway? Why does it matter? I try to convince myself that it's not moving forward. Nothing’s changing. Maybe I'll get transferred to Maui. I've always wanted to go to Maui. I hear there are lots of chameleons there.... I shake my head silently. Time to stop kidding myself. I'm not going to Maui. I'm not staying in Hawaii any longer. This is probably my last real day as a missionary. I close my scriptures, pull out my suitcase, and open it. Suddenly I realize I'm crying. Time to start packing, Elder. Time to start packing.

On July 12, 2019 I realized something that hadn't hit me until just recently. Somehow, between the trials and the miracles, I've actually been here for two years already. What struck me the most I think is that the day itself wasn't some climactic moment or special episode in the show of life like I thought it would be. It wasn't this big conclusive moment for me. At least not at first anyway. At first it was just... weird. In the morning I got an email from my mom. "Congratulations! You've officially done it! You've served the Lord for two years and completed an honorable mission." That was the first time it really sunk in how long I've been gone. Most things that followed that moment are a blur. But I think, somewhere along the trail of miracles and tears, I found myself at the end of the road unexpectedly. Two years. Two years... Two.... Years..... My memories cut in and out as I think back on it all. There is after all, so much to take in. Campbell, Curtis Zeek, Tyler Ramos, Nunn, Orihuela, Alex Coleman, Deadman, Ashby, Lock, Bishop Ho, Maxwell, The Gomes family, The Vickers, baptisms, the greatest six weeks of my life, Taka, Durrant, friendships, drama, whitewashes, Kaneohe, the waterfalls, the rain, Hoke, Bird, Smith, Kaonohi family, England, music, morning dew in the grass as we play ultimate frisbee at 5:45am, doing it for Japan, stickers on the calendar, orange bang with Bro. Hovey, dinner with the Davis family, worry, interviews, one year gone by, leaving Oahu for the first time, York, Atwood, Uncle Kunane on Kauai, home on the dry side, bikes in the sun dried dirt, the bumpiest road, telling stories during finding, kicking logic to the curb, doing the impossible, praying, Blackmore, Johnson, Barbeau, exchanges with Eames, gnats in the sky, gnats in my eye, big storms, P.O. Box mail, 400 days, then 500. 600 days. Back to Oahu to see Elder Klevengot of the seventy, notes and notes, transfer news, Hilo with Brooksby, loving it, Japanese lessons, rain, green, Collins, Pukahi, Bass, making more than memories, building more than testimonies, knowing the love of God, 700 days, LaCorte, Lopez, thoughts of home, Hawaii, trees, more rain, Maui Mike's fire roasted chicken, plate lunches, scriptures that mean something, the Enos Family, Aloha Oe-

... Sorry. I know it's a lot to read. It's a lot to write. But it's how I feel. I'm going to go on a slight tangent for a moment, but it relates so I hope you'll indulge me a bit here. One of my favorite poems is a video essay about California Adventure Park. It talks about the magic of the park and the joy that came from it, as well as the sadness of the changing landscape it now represents-the loss of rides that carried memories worth far more than the price of admission. For my final email of the mission, I thought it was fitting, so I've adapted the words to my own circumstances, and made some slight changes to the meaning, but the spirit of it remains the same.

~ahem, here goes~

A Hui Ho, Hawaii 

It's been said that there's a price to pay to live in paradise

And together my old friend, we've paid in full 

Come tomorrow, I'll pack up my white shirts, put on my worn out old suit, and give out my last copies of The Book of Mormon

You've been here since the beginning

Shining bright as the sun that sets beyond the Kekaha shoreline

You've shown me the wonder, and the magic, of the islands of the sea

That quintessential endless summer, that paints the skies blue and the plants green, no matter the season

You took me to Wahiawa, where the cannons and planes train to defend our country, and where the scent of pineapple is fresh in the air

You lead me down the the desert roads of Kapolei, where winter feels like summer, and the sunsets paint the most extravagant pictures in the clouds

You've given me time to reside in the jungle mountains of Kaneohe, where the rain brings concords of waterfalls cascading down the cliff side, and the sapphire ocean crashes against the pure white sand

You flew me to Kauai, where I found home in the dry side, where the melting hot town of Kekaha lives on in my heart, and where the sun sets behind Ni'ihau, the mysterious forbidden island

Finally, you gave me time in Hilo, land of greenery and rain, where the humidity is as thick as the sense of community and kindness that radiates from its people, where the biggest and youngest island has made a garden paradise

You showed me the truth of the Hawaiian Islands

The people of the community that lives in the paradise we choose to vacation in

You showed me the people that make Hawaii what it is

And my mission was supposed to be about just that: The people

The ones who make Hawaii special

The ones who make Hawaii beautiful

The ones who make it unique

But as it turns out, I came to lose myself, for myself

A Hui Ho Hawaii

I worked, I really did

When I found myself in the midst of so many strangers, within the struggles and troubles of those first few months, I adapted, and I survived

I sacrificed pieces of myself, in the name of the greater good

Like the many missionaries who came before me, I sat back, I let go, and I tried stay the same, I tried to stay in the game

I made it for a while

But as time passed by

Hate turned to love

Doubt turned to faith

Hawaii turned to home

And above all, I loved this home

A Hui Ho Hawaii, it's been a thrill

Biking along the bumpy roads of Kekaha, throwing caution into the wind, bearing my testimony and knowing finally that my testimony was my own, as people stopped, and chose at last to listen

Whether I was tracting apartment complexes, taking time to relax on a p day, or being treated to dinner with the members who feel more like family than friends

Companions came and went, kingdoms rose, and kingdoms fell

But here we are, because I stayed

Because you stayed you

Shining bright, like the sun that sets beyond the Kekaha shoreline and rises above the clouded Hilo skies

The symbol of the islands of endless summer

But even on the islands of endless summer

The shadows grow long, and the sun falls down beyond the horizon

Goodnight is goodbye, but I'll never say goodbye to the things you've taught me

The sun of life will rise again

With new opportunities, new people, new places

And maybe some old ones as well

I may be gone, but you are not forgotten

Like all life changing things, your legacy will live on, the me of today will carry your memory through the world of tomorrow

I may have changed some things

But my core is the same

A Hui Ho Hawaii

It's been a blast

You've shown me who I truly was, and you loved me, even when I didn't fit the mold

You told me I could be me, and that I needed to be me

You fixed me

A Hui Ho Hawaii

Yours were the years that gave more than you got

And gained more than you ever dreamed.

So maybe tonight I'll take one last look at the sun that sets beyond the shores of South Point

Maybe I'll talk to a few more people about this Gospel and what it means

Maybe I'll eat a few extra helpings of poi and rice

And maybe I'll think back on you, as the best two years of my life.

Aloha Oe, and take care.