A not so normal day

Today was a normal Sunday for my family. We got up, put our IPOD on full blast, today's choice was some old school Puluvaga (thanks again Ve'a for loading the IPOD) and went about our normal routine. I was getting the bulletin and slide show ready while Tile was doing Rise's hair. Belive me, I've tried to do Rise's hair but she threatens me with the curling iron. LOL We went to Sunday School, service, had a nice to'ana'i and relaxed a bit, getting ready for the work week. I was just about to turn in for the night when I got a text from my brother Sivia. I was curious because I don't get that many texts from him. I flipped the phone and pressed the read button. Six words in, and I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. He said, "we took flowers to the cemetary..."

I immediately knew. This was no normal day. It was April 26th. Thirteen years ago, my family was shattered. Via and his wife Tita's only child drowned in our parents pool. It was, to say the least, the most devastating ordeal our family had been through. He was the only grandchild. We'd had grandparents die, uncles and aunts die, but this was the closest death that ever visited our family. It had changed our lives immensely. Each of us, not just our family but our whole community, was touched by his death. Everyone dealt with it in different ways. What I will always remember from his death was that it solidified my faith in God. Not immediately, but after a long bout of soul searching. One night, about a year after his death, my grandma Tua told us about a dream she'd had. She said shortly after he died, she saw him with angels around him. He was telling her not to cry, that he was with all our relatives that had gone before to heaven and that he would be waiting for us. From that moment on, I knew there was a heaven. And if there was a heaven, then there must be a God. And I slowly made my walk with the Lord. And I have Kamahele and Grandma Tua to thank for bringing me back to the Lord.

Now, thirteen years later, I forgot about April 26th. I feel awful. I feel like I wasn't there for my brother and his family. But I also realize that even if I'm not there, even if I forgot, God was there. And God remembers. He always remembers. He remembered David when he was hunted by Saul. He gave David comfort. He remembered Hannah and her prayer and sent her a child. And He remembered the prisoner that hung with His Son and gave him eternal life. God remembers us wherever we are. Our concerns are His concerns. Our pain is His pain.

To my dearest nephew Kamahele - Thank you. Thank you for introducing your uncle to Jesus again. Thank you for looking after all of us all these years. Look after Salina and we will see you again someday. I love you.