August 22, 2023
“May love be the rich soil where their lives take root. May it be the bedrock where their lives are founded.” ~ Ephesians 3:17 The Voice
I am still in shock from the wildfires that ravaged parts of Maui, consumed plants and buildings and anything else in its path. It is only now that I can begin to write about it. Maui was our home for 5 of the 15 years we lived in Hawaii. Lahaina was a place we regularly visited. It was home to 200-year-old Waiola (Living Water) Congregational Church. It was a place of worship for Hawaiian royalty in the 1800’s, regular local folk of native Hawaiian, Chinese, Japanese, Philippine, European, and more recently peoples from island nations in the far South Pacific. I did pulpit exchanges with the kahu (pastor), attended all manner of meetings, and performed a baptism.
Maui is where Rod and I want to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary later this year, and where we want our ashes spread.
This past February, Rod and I spent most of a day wandering around Lahaina Town, walking along Front Street to enjoy the ocean views with the islands of Lana`i and Moloka`i visible in the distance. We had a relaxed lunch at Cheeseburgers in Paradise, which is no more. We stopped to admire the Banyan Tree that was planted in 1873, in the port town of Lahaina, the capital of the then-Kingdom of Hawaii as a gift from missionaries from India. At the time it was only 8 feet tall. The tree witnessed the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom, a thriving whaling port, numerous wars, and two pandemics. Last February, its branches soared over 60 feet high, and provided shade to nearly two thirds of an acre. Along with worries about the welfare of friends, I feared that the Banyan Tree was no more.
Banyan Tree Before the Fire
The word out of Lahaina is that there is viable tissue beneath her scorched bark. She is in a tree coma. Arborists are giving her good long soaks, and sprays to her upper branches. They are aerating the soil and applying compost tea, fertilizer, and mulch. They hope for leaves in 3-6 months as a sign that she is waking up. She is the people’s symbol of hope.
Her roots are over 150 years old and have grown deep in rich volcanic soil and bedrock. With tending, she will once again thrive. That’s a lesson for us. ~ Anne
Wayfinding 