Lessons from the Lanai (1)

Ok, I hesitate even writing about our recent trip to Maui because I am well aware of the fact that perhaps ya’ll back here in the freezing rain do not want to hear chipper little me running at the mouth about some little spiritual lesson I learned while lounging on the white sands of a Hawaiian beach eating fresh pineapple.  I will not lie. It was glorious.  It was beyond glorious.  It was a God-kiss blessing that I will never forget. It was probably the best family-memory time we have ever had.  Of course there were highs and lows, but there were times when I was so overwhelmed by God’s graciousness to us that my eyes filled up with tears in the middle of a swim in the pool.  Not just that it was neat to be on a tropical island, but it was so just God.  I picture our entire trip like God plopping us down in the middle of a big wide-open space, and then pouring out a huge bucket of His blessing smack dab on our heads.  We did nothing to earn it; He was just gracious and we sat and soaked it all in.  And for that I am so thankful beyond words.  And now that we’re back,  if you will allow, I would love to share two brief life-lessons that struck me during our trip.

1:: When Everything’s Gravy ::

Believe it or not, not everyone on the heavenly island of Maui is happy.   I mean, sure most people were happy, sitting on the sands looking out over breathtaking vistas, pointing excitedly toward the dozen humpback whales we saw, breaching and blowing their shooting spray high into the ocean air.  Children played excitedly in the warm aqua ocean, splashing and pointing at tropical fish and tiny crabs scurrying this way and that.  But when we first arrived Jeff and I had to chuckle at a little display that gave us perspective right off the bat.

We had just gotten our rental car, and had been traveling for about 8 hours–we were exhausted, hot, sooo hungry, and SO excited to see the beach.  We were a mix of giddy and exhausted–not sure whether to rejoice or complain. Ever been there?  As we pulled out of the rental car lot, the car ahead of us stopped at the gate. The man got out of his car and started yelling at the attendant, pointing at a dozen or so tiny little dings on the sides of his rental car. He was obviously irate that he, a distinguished man with such great attention to detail, would have to ride in such a jalopy.  (Mind you, this was Budget rental car, what did he expect?).  The poor attendant, whose job was simply to press a button and allow cars to exit, stood and smiled amicably. I was thankful that he didn’t seem offended or ruffled, because I wanted to jump out of the car and hug the attendant and tell him I was sorry he’d received such verbal abuse.  The funny part was that the man in the car sped off fuming without realizing that the trunk of his car was wide open.  Mr. Attention-to-detail-man must have not noticed this detail in his cloud of anger.  We drove by him down the road when he’d pulled over on the shoulder to shut his trunk.

I don’t mean to make fun of that man, we’ve all be there, right? Allowed an insignificant inconvenience to get us all bent out of shape? I certainly have.  I’ll admit there were moments on the 5 1/2 hour plane-ride (which, by the way, of the 11 total hours on the plane my children did not sleep one single minute. What is wrong with them???), when I thought, “Why again are we doing this?”

But what that little scene did was serve as a valuable reminder, right from the get-go. When we were just making the choice whether to rejoice or complain–the car rental guy let us see things clearly.   Here we were, the most privileged of privileged, flying on jets and visiting exotic islands and experiencing the finest of luxuries, and yet selfishness could cause a person to be a fool.  An absolute blethering fool, yelling at a parking attendant because of a tiny ding in the car.  I vowed at that moment and asked God to let me be thankful for everything, to please spare me from being foolish, and instead to see everything as gravy.

But during the trip here was the wonderful realization:  When we keep our lives simple, everything is gravy.  I love that.  Going on this trip made me more than ever want to lead a simple life, and cultivate a simple environment for my kids–an environment of thankfulness for everything, rejoicing in everything.

For example, we got the cheapest hotel we could find that had a kitchen.  We all slept in the same room–Dutch, Jeff and I shared a bed and Heidi was in the port-a-crib at our side.  I LOVED it. It was so wonderful. It had an unusual beach front, but it was situated right next to a park that had reef which blocked the waves and created a perfect little wading-type area in the ocean where the kids could play and explore all day long with no worry of  waves or rip currants.  We ate out one meal the whole week, and the rest of the time we ate beans and rice and peanut butter sandwiches I had brought in our carry-on.  We splurged on 6 fresh pineapples from the farmer’s market and some fresh pineapple salsa and that’s what we ate. All week. And you know what?  We loved it!  We exulted in God’s creation and built sandcastles and chased fish and crabs and swam and splashed and laughed ourselves silly.  The way we looked at it–we were on the most beautiful island we could imagine.  Everything was gravy.

I certainly don’t mean I do this perfect or mean to toot my own horn like we have this figured out.  Our trip was a beautiful moment of simplicity and clarity and I just long for this attitude in all of life. The bottom line is that we have been saved from the pit of hell by a gracious God who loved us and died for us, called us His own, has redeemed us and called us and has wonderful plans for us.  Everything is gravy. ANY good we get here on earth is just icing on the cake.  We are SO blessed.  This whole vacation was worth it if only for that one little lesson.  That is joy. When everything is gravy.  And I pray that poor man in the rental car comes to know the joy of Jesus, or perhaps he already does and that was just a momentary lapse. There are plenty of times (every day!) that I have acted like him, complaining about ridiculousness when in reality I’m surrounded by paradise.  We all can use a little dose of this perspective, amen? Everything is gravy.

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