The Kayak Story | September 30, 2015

September 30, 2015

 “The Kayak Story” has become our most requested ditty (ad nauseam) at all family gatherings. Everyone loves a good lost at sea, perfect storm, shipwrecked, deserted island, shark attack story, right? Well sit right back and I’ll tell the tale and I promise to tie it into today’s gospel somehow. (I apologize that it is long, but I think it is enjoyable)

My dad collects a lot of things. He’s not like a hoarder or anything but he loves collections. I am usually not that into most of his collections but there is one that my brother and I have always found kind of neat. My parents grew up in Hawaii on the windward side of the island of Oahu in a town called Kailua. Being third generation kanaka or local has always been a source of great pride for my family and we grew up knowing about Aloha Spirit and Island Hospitality in our very core. Even though we grew up on the mainland, we still refer to Hawaii as home and feel extremely blessed by our Portuguese/Hawaiian heritage.

Every time my Dad goes home he brings back a little bottle of sand from one of his favorite beaches. He labels each one and keeps them proudly on display. He has sand from beaches like Lanikai, Sunset, Waikiki, Bellows, Waimea, etc. I love to look at the slight differences between the sands. Some are like powder, others are darker in color, others are more course. The intrigue in one little bottle of sand is endless. I long to feel it on my skin and to see it glisten in the sun or watch a wave hula across it moving it here and there. I want it to stick to my slippers and get all over my car and stay on my face until later when I brush my cheek and the grit reminds me of my glorious day at the beach. Sand is one of nature’s most incredible wonders and my Dad’s collection shows his sensitive side and his tender heart. He is such a guy’s guy but his streak for sentimentality is Big Island huge and this simple collection of sand stands in testimony of my Dad’s sweet heart. I think that is why my brother and I wanted so badly to add to this collection.

We did not, however, want to collect any ordinary sand. Ordinary would not be good enough. Our family’s favorite beach in the whole world is Lanikai, which looks out onto the Twin Islands on the southeast shore of Oahu. I’m sure you’ve seen a picture. The best part about Lanikai, aside from its seclusion, is that the sun rises over the Twin Islands. Being Californians means that we watch the sun set over the ocean and the sunrise over the mountains. That’s what makes Lanikai so special for us, and it IS the most gorgeous beach in the world. It is one of my sacred places and I know my family feels the same way. Mikey and I decided that we wanted to bring Dad sand from somewhere on Oahu that even he had not been to: the Twin Islands!! My Mom and Dad had covered every inch of their island but they had never been to either of the Twin Islands and that’s where we were bound and determined to get Dad’s sand.

On a recent family vacation with several of our cousins from Texas, Mikey and I let it be known to all that we were going to kayak to the Twin Islands the very next day. We were confident that NO ONE else would possibly want to join us on this adventure and so we threw it out there with a definite sense of smug arrogance. Much to our chagrin, all of our cousins hopped on our Twin Island bandwagon and in an instant we had become a party of eight (not that we don’t LOVE our cousins, but we didn’t want to be held responsible if it sucked….!!!). Our first sign of danger was that zero of the people who actually grew up on the island jumped at this tremendously fun opportunity. Huh. Interesting.

Later that evening had dinner at Uncle Donald and Auntie Dorothy’s house near Kalama Beach where my Auntie swam almost daily. When she found out about our upcoming kayak adventure, she told us to be careful because it was shark-breeding season but it should be okay because they usually breed on the opposite side of the Twin Islands. Okay, that was helpful advice. Then she said that we only really need to worry if clouds start dappling the water because it makes the sharks think that it’s feeding time and then we only really really need to worry if we see the shark watch helicopters, but that is usually pretty rare. Then my parents had to throw in a story of their friend Bobby from High School who was eaten by a shark while surfing the Twin Islands. So let’s recap: within five minutes of our Bedison family kayak adventure planning, the word “shark” was mentioned four times! Huh. Interesting. Why was everyone trying to rain on our kayaking parade?

The eight of us met the next morning at the kayak rental place in Kailua Beach.  We started with a brief orientation to go over safety guidelines and to sign those waivers that basically tell you that you might actually die. All I remember from the safety speech was, “When your kayak tips over and all your stuff falls in the ocean, don’t try to retrieve it, just get back in your kayak as quickly as possible.” I politely raised my hand and said, “Did you mean to say, ‘IF your kayak tips over’?” Not missing a beat, he said, “WHEN your kayak tips over…” Huh. Interesting. “Does anyone have any questions?” I raised my hand again: “What is the likelihood that there are sharks?” and the cute local boy responded: “Let me ask you a question. Where do sharks live?” I said, “In the ocean?” He said, “Moving on, does anyone else have any questions?” At this point, the Texans wanted us dead, I’m sure of it. They were pretty much convinced that our parents would find out about us on the 6 o’clock news and the teaser would say “Stay tuned for tragic story about eight skinny white people (or haoles) that tried to kayak to the Twin Islands during shark-breeding season.”  (And still, even with all that shark talk, Mikey and I were pumped and ready to go.)

Mikey and I launched ourselves successfully without falling in and we immediately started paddling trying to figure out the science of it all. Well the first thing we realized was that paddling was just like dancing and that synchronicity was extremely important. So we established our rhythm and it was exhilarating because well, let’s face it, we looked good doing it. Give us some choreography and we are 100% in it to win it, and that is exactly what took over our sensibility; the need to win win win this imaginary kayak regatta that we had just entered!!! It was at this point, right after we humbly admitted out loud to one another, that we could totally be in the Olympics for kayaking because we are so superior at it than everyone else that we glanced back to see how the Texans were doing. They were still on the shore trying to launch themselves. We saw some splashing, and the undersides of some kayaks, but we also heard some laughing, so…..more time for us to practice our already perfect strokes I guess!!!

Our first destination was Flat Island directly off of Kailua Beach. The name describes it perfectly and we all managed to disembark without any major issues. Now that we all had our sea legs, it was off to Twin Islands which seemed like they were right over there, super close, just within reach. We set off full steam ahead. That rhythm that we found only became more synchronized and we cut through the water with ease. I don’t know how long we had been going when we decided to look back to see how awesome our cousins were also doing. Oh, you mean the three yellow dots still at Flat Island??? Yikes. How did we get so separated without even noticing? Maybe we SHOULD be in the Olympics because we are so freaking fast!! So we decided to pause and wait until they caught up a bit. This gave us a chance to look at Lanikai Beach from the water and then we notice people were waving at us. Our parents and Aunties and Uncles had gone to Lanikai to see if they could find us! Well we better start paddling to show off our Olympian-level skills.

As we were showing off, we saw three kayaks exit the water where our family was on the beach. The cousins apparently needed to reorganize their kayak partners a bit. Then they came up with a brilliant idea: to raft all three kayaks together and have the only two guys do most of the paddling. Huh. Interesting. After what looked like lots of yelling and gesticulating, the three bright yellow vessels (now joined together as one) got back in the water. Mikey and I felt that they certainly had a handle on things, so we were back to our choreography. This stretch of paddling was delightful. We saw some beautiful sea turtles swimming along with us, we rode over gorgeous reefs, and the wind was at our back pushing us along elegantly. We could not understand what was taking our cousins so long but we finally decided that since we were having such an amazing time, that they must be also be having an amazing time and we stopped being concerned.

After about an hour of paddling the honeymoon phase of our kayak adventure was wearing off just a bit. Our Bedison noodle arms were feeling extra noodle-ly and from the looks of it, the Twin Islands just kept moving farther and farther away from us…messing with us…taunting us. Then the clouds came, you know the ones that trick the sharks into thinking that it’s feeding time?? Suddenly, we caught a second wind and started hauling butt toward the islands. The presence of said clouds had the ability to turn cute little sea turtle fins dancing through turquoise waters into menacing great whites circling our bright yellow tasty treat in water that looked like black poison. The good news was that we finally seemed closer to the islands, and that bad news was that off in the distance, there was a hard to figure out sound. Was it an ancient Polynesian drum circle coming from the islands like in the great 80’s classic The Blue Lagoon? Was it some sort of water bound Harley Davidson? Was it my freaking heartbeat? Oh, there it is!! The shark helicopters!! Yay! I was looking forward to this rare occurrence ever since my Auntie said we probably would never see one!

Have you ever felt your blood explode with adrenaline? It almost feels like there are 42 fire breathing dragons inside your limbs and they really have to belch because they each just drank an entire can of root beer! Yeah it’s almost exactly like that. Adrenaline storms make me want to do two things and most always in this exact order: 1. Poop my pants, and 2. Say Hail Mary’s. Apparently, my brother has the same allergic reaction because we started yelling Hail Mary’s (in rhythm to our choreography, of course) at the same exact time. It was one word for every stroke: right…left…right…left…Hail…Mary…full… of…grace! And we were yelling them in the same way they teach you to yell at your fake perpetrator in the big foam suit at those awkward self-defense classes. This was the freakiest sounding Hail Mary ever but it was from the heart, truly, and I’m sure it scared off all the sharks that were actively trying to eat us! Prayer is powerful especially when you’re yelling it at the top of your lungs.

We were finally within reach of the Twin Islands and I’m sure it was just an optical illusion but somehow we seemed much higher than the island itself and the ocean had turned itself into a real life version of a splash mountain downhill water death trap, and the Hail Mary’s got even louder. What I forgot to mention, back in the safety speech portion of the story, is that cute local boy did say that when you approach the island, the wave patterns can be a little tricky to navigate since they come around the island from both sides and meet each other right at the point where innocent little kayaks might reach the island creating a topsey turvey vortex of reef bashing, kayak sinking, whirlpool wielding fury. So as we stared down the ocean log ride kind of hill, I noticed the vortex of fury and we had to pause the Hail Mary-ing for just a moment. I needed to count waves and try to figure out how many waves (approximately) were per current set. Once I figured out the number of waves, then I timed how much time we had until the next set would start. (This may all seem very scientific of me, but I assure you it was complete crap and I was all talk, I assure you.) Well, based on my beautiful mind-like calculations, it was 13 waves per set and then we had about 90 seconds between sets. So we let a couple of sets go by to make sure and then it was go time. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, GO!!!!! Then the noodle-armed skinny white people started paddling ferociously and screaming the ancient war cry of our ancestors (which ironically sounded like a Broadway show tune of some sort) simultaneously while the kayak crested the hill and started plummeting us toward the twister of looming death. We even bent down to make ourselves more aerodynamic (whatever that means) and dug our paddles in with every aggressive stroke. Grunts and Hail Mary’s vomited out of us and we were in full on survival panic mode. You’ll be happy to know that we timed our descent perfectly and the valley of the shadow of death did not win. Our celebration on the beach was nothing short of the ugly crying that beauty queens do when the crown is being placed on their Aqua Netted mountain of hair. We looked like Laverne and Shirley holding hands and jumping in a circle of delight. We did NOT die, or get eaten by sharks, or sucked into the waves of doom AND we made it to the island where our parents had never been. Cross it off the bucket list and thank you Jesus!

As we continued to celebrate and congratulate ourselves, we found that we were walking up a hill to get onto the actual beach. We were laughing and recapping how amazing we were out there, when we reached the beach. What wonders would we find on this secluded island? I was picturing the mysterious Dodo Bird perhaps, or an unknown fern yet to be discovered, or at least the Swiss Family Robinson tree house. Now, I am a master of words, but I could never have made this part of the story up and I testify that it is 100% true. This island of intrigue did indeed surprise and amaze us with strange wonders never imagined by either of us. As we summited the beach like wanderers in the desert we greeted our destination with joyful hearts and a true sense of accomplishment only to be received by two, not one but two, naked, yes completely naked, sunbathing, male, German bodybuilders who were spread eagle to the world because, let’s face it, they clearly were not expecting visitors!! Our dreams of finding the extinct Dodo Bird were replaced with the finding of two German No No Birds! Suddenly our squeals of joy converted into shrieks of horror and we tried shielding our eyes but we were so caught off guard that we had no idea of how to behave. Do we play it cool and act like we don’t see exactly what needs tanning and what doesn’t need tanning? Do we give a friendly A   LO   HA!? Do we run to the other side of the island? Do we introduce ourselves? Ask for directions? Help! Well, the Germans broke the ice for us and greeted us with a very enthusiastic “Hallo!!!” They seemed VERY happy to see us and this when we just started running as fast as we could to the opposite side of the island. I don’t think we were necessarily afraid of being murdered by them but trust me on this one; there was A LOT to be afraid of. Run Forest run!!

By the time we reached the other side of the island we were in hysterics. Did that really just happen? Well, of course it did, those kinds of things ONLY happen to Jen and Mikey. But we took care of business and got our bottle of sand. We did not find any undiscovered ferns and/or the Swiss Family Robinson tree house but we had already been on the island for quite some time and we kind of wanted witness when the Texans would also be greeted by the Germans so we went back to where our kayak was. Lo and behold, the Germans now had clothes on so of course the Texans would never believe the butt naked part of the story, but then again, WHY would I make that up?

We looked out at the water and were encouraged to actually see that the Texans were arriving but somehow it became clear that they might have forgotten the safety instructions regarding the double wave Bermuda Triangle business and since all three boats were rafted up as one, disaster was one wave away and we had front row seats. Soon and very soon they were devoured inside twin tsunamis! There were blonde people and white bodies tumbling everywhere like a laundry mat in Arkansas.  You know the inappropriate laughing that siblings tend to do with one another in church, most especially at super sad funerals, the kind of laughing that always incorporates snorting and possibly peeing your pants a little? Well, while our poor cousins were actually facing death we were fully engaged in inappropriate church laughing.  We quickly sobered up when we saw all the blood gushing out of poor sweet Sandie’s foot. The reef took a bite out of her and we were called into action in a very special way. “Mikey, we need to use your shirt as a bandage for Sandie’s foot!” Now if you really knew my brother you would know that he takes his shirt off for NO ONE, nada, zip, zilch, NOBODY. The world might not be ready for his 6’2” 137 pounds of milky white lanky manhood. Why did it have to be HIS shirt? Well, his was the only shirt not soaked in salt water and my bikini top was just out of the question. So he reached a fine compromise and gave them the bottom half of his shirt so that he was now wearing a lovely deserted island style crop top! If only the Germans could see him now. He hardly even had time to protest because her foot was pretty bad. But after the fact, he knew that this was one little way that the Texans could get back at us for leading them on this crazy adventure.

By this time, we were all pretty much over kayaking and the whole damn thing. Now we just had to make it off the island without getting sucked under by the ferocious waves and we had to paddle up and out to get back to the ocean. Mikey and I made it out past the savage kayak eating waves and up the ocean hill pretty easily much to our surprise. As we were paddling away from the islands and back to Kailua we realized that the current and the wind were both going against us. Our Olympic level paddling turned into constipated crawling and if we stopped for even half a second we were pushed back from where we came. It was at this point that the wind really picked up and the sea became extra agitated and extra bumpy. “Uh oh,” said Mikey, “my Dramamine just wore off. I think I’m going to be sick.” I couldn’t see him but he sounded like he had lots of excess water in his mouth. He stopped paddling and so did I. We were actively drifting out to sea on irritated swells of stomach churning folly. We had lost our will to survive and all Mikey could think about is that when they found our bodies, he would be wearing a damn crop top!! Honestly, it was that very vision that kept me going and gave me something to look forward to.

Our despair was real. We both just laid back in our seat and dramatically let our hands fall over the side of the kayak and floated them in the water. Come and get us sharks….we don’t care. It’ll make a great story for our family. We started reciting our last will and testament to our parents. “Mom and Dad, we are sorry that we are so so so stupid. You raised us better than this. You raised us to be afraid of everything and to never go out seeking adventure for this very reason, and we are sorry. P.S. Please don’t bury Mikey in this crop top. Amen.” We really did let ourselves drift very far out into the ocean but I guess it was not our time to die because some how we recovered from our desperation and started paddling again. This time we actually started moving closer to the shore and it was long and hard but we made it to Kailua Beach, alive!

Exhausted, sick, salty, and hungry, we pulled our kayak out of the water. We had 15 minutes to get it back to the rental place on time. Dragging our kayak back over the beach and across the street felt like the last leg of the Ironman decathlon but we did it. When we reached the rental place, cute local boy was putting all the other kayaks back up on their racks so he asked Mikey and his crop top to help. I don’t know how, but Mikey and his noodle arms mustered up the very last bit of his energy to put the kayaks up. They asked us about the cousins and since we had no real answer for them, we told a little baby white lie, “Oh, they should be here any minute” and we got the heck out of there. We had enough time to go over to Grandmother’s house, eat dinner, and also say our goodbyes at our other relatives’ house because we were leaving the next day. By this time it was already twilight but we drove by the kayak rental place anyway to make sure that the Texan’s car was NOT still there, but it was, oh crap, it was definitely still there. Pending doom entered the picture and we started imagining all the scenarios that could have taken place. German bodybuilders turned cannibals? Maybe they floated out to sea like we almost did? Maybe Sandie’s foot blood called all the breeding sharks over from the other side of the island? Maybe they decided to stay? Then we thought about how we could explain their disappearance to their family and as we were crafting a true American hero-type story, off in the distance we heard voices and at least one “y’all!” They were alive!! Thank you, Jesus! This is when we ALMOST left the scene, too chicken to face the Texans who were bound to be a tad bit pissed at those crazy Californians. But we stayed to face the music and greeted them with our very best crow eating grin and let’s just say that they were NOT grinning back although one glance at Mikey’s exposed belly button did cut the tension with some good old post traumatic stress hysteria and that’s where our story ends.

Sometimes our plans backfire. Sometimes we experience bumps in the road or sharks in the water (or the idea of sharks in the water if we’re being honest). Sometimes our good intentions turn into epic fails and sometimes we might just give up the fight and start to drift out to sea. Full steam ahead can suck all of our resources and energy and when the Dramamine wears off, we may just turn green. Every trip implies risk or else they would call it a stand still, but let’s be real; the cost is what makes it worthwhile. The risk makes the arrival necessary for survival. What started out as children wanting to collect a simple gift for their father, turned into a collection of connection with each other and sometimes those connections come from dancing, exploring, praying, singing, joining up together, facing fears, falling in, overcoming challenges, unexpected surprises, periods of desperation, sickness, and paddling against the current. When the eight of us remember this adventure, we will celebrate our victories and rejoice in the security that comes from having experienced it together. This is the essence of today’s gospel.

How many times do we make promises and find ourselves in over our heads, or we over estimate our abilities and our stamina, and while our hearts might have been in the right place, we needed to be real with ourselves and what we could truly handle. Jesus knows that our hearts want to say, “I will follow you wherever you go” but the only way we can actually do that is with supernatural help….Come, Holy Spirit. Following Christ is not easy, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” There will always be some sort of excuse, obligation, activity, or something better to do than to chase after a cloud, but Jesus beacons us to his side, to walk WITH us. He does all the heavy lifting, all the paddling against the current if we but surrender our will to his. This week has been a week for me to make excuses as to why I haven’t been praying well enough, why I am too tired to write, why I don’t have time to sit with Jesus. Today’s gospel reminds me that life in Christ is dynamic, always moving, always growing, never stagnate, or boring. When I find myself in a doldrum like when Mikey and I gave up paddling and started drifting off to sea, I need to invoke the Holy Spirit into that insipid place to brighten it up and push me forward, never looking back. I want to “be fit for the kingdom” and that means I need to keep paddling. One look at Pope Francis’ schedule from last week and you can see the dynamic life of Jesus Christ put into action. Follow Christ without excuses, conditions, or fear, keep moving your vessel forward, and you will find that you are fit for the kingdom.

Memorial of Saint Jerome, Priest and Doctor of the Church
Lectionary: 457

Reading 1 NEH 2:1-8

In the month Nisan of the twentieth year of King Artaxerxes,
when the wine was in my charge,
I took some and offered it to the king.
As I had never before been sad in his presence,
the king asked me, “Why do you look sad?
If you are not sick, you must be sad at heart.”
Though I was seized with great fear, I answered the king:
“May the king live forever!
How could I not look sad
when the city where my ancestors are buried lies in ruins,
and its gates have been eaten out by fire?”
The king asked me, “What is it, then, that you wish?”
I prayed to the God of heaven and then answered the king:
“If it please the king,
and if your servant is deserving of your favor,
send me to Judah, to the city of my ancestors’ graves,
to rebuild it.”
Then the king, and the queen seated beside him,
asked me how long my journey would take
and when I would return.
I set a date that was acceptable to him,
and the king agreed that I might go.

I asked the king further: “If it please the king,
let letters be given to me for the governors
of West-of-Euphrates,
that they may afford me safe-conduct until I arrive in Judah;
also a letter for Asaph, the keeper of the royal park,
that he may give me wood for timbering the gates
of the temple-citadel and for the city wall
and the house that I shall occupy.”
The king granted my requests,
for the favoring hand of my God was upon me.

Responsorial Psalm PS 137:1-2, 3, 4-5, 6

R. (6ab) Let my tongue be silenced if I ever forget you!
By the streams of Babylon
we sat and wept
when we remembered Zion.
On the aspens of that land
we hung up our harps.
R. Let my tongue be silenced if I ever forget you!
Though there our captors asked of us
the lyrics of our songs,
And our despoilers urged us to be joyous:
“Sing for us the songs of Zion!”
R. Let my tongue be silenced if I ever forget you!
How could we sing a song of the LORD
in a foreign land?
If I forget you, Jerusalem,
may my right hand be forgotten! 
R. Let my tongue be silenced if I ever forget you!
May my tongue cleave to my palate
if I remember you not,
If I place not Jerusalem
ahead of my joy.
R. Let my tongue be silenced if I ever forget you!

Alleluia PHIL 3:8-9

R. Alleluia, alleluia.
I consider all things so much rubbish
that I may gain Christ and be found in him.
R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel LK 9:57-62

As Jesus and his disciples were proceeding
on their journey, someone said to him,
“I will follow you wherever you go.”
Jesus answered him,
“Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests,
but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.”
And to another he said, “Follow me.”
But he replied, “Lord, let me go first and bury my father.”
But he answered him, “Let the dead bury their dead.
But you, go and proclaim the Kingdom of God.”
And another said, “I will follow you, Lord,
but first let me say farewell to my family at home.”
Jesus answered him, “No one who sets a hand to the plow
and looks to what was left behind is fit for the Kingdom of God.”