Writing is dangerous, and often scary, not necessarily because of the status of the person who reads it; no, most writers could care less thereof.  Itʻs not even because of the way your brain needs to stitch appropriate vocabulary together, creating something that actually makes sense; thatʻs all subjective.  However, sharing your opinion on any given matter from Same-sex Marriage to Homelessness in Hawaiʻi, is brutal.  Depending on how you read that sentence, some would think Iʻve weighed those two issues and sited them as if I were putting one on a pedestal of priority, and have a fit about it (or a problem about my addressing them as “issues”).  See what I mean? And even now, through ages and crossroads of language and expression amongst the worldsʻ most hidden to familiar civilizations, elucidation of your own gut feeling is ominous.  I donʻt believe Iʻm a writer.. maybe an artist somehow, but Iʻm not worthy of that title.  Regardless, it still feels risky to even allow this process in my head to take place, where my brain sends signals to my hands to encrypt verbatim each flash of a thought.  Iʻd imagine that oil-painters and sculptors, musicians and designers, experience a similar fear.

And so, in my expressing and jumping from idea to idea, I mean no harm.  I am very much as uneducated as I am educated about countless topics.  But quite frankly, I think most of us who take the time to write in and on anything, literally anything, have intentions that lie very far from harm.  

I watched a film, not based on a true story, about a retired professional soccer player who was trying to be the best father figure he could, to his son who lived with the boyʻs mother and soon-to-be new husband.  Half the movie went by and overlooking the distracting scenes, unessential to the main storyline, I realized that he and his ex-wife controlled the entire ending of the story.  Sure, thatʻs not the case in every situation, and life can be much more complicated than Hollywood interprets it to be.  But just stop. Think. 

When you were little, playing games, running around outside, you had a small fire inside of you.  It was just a little spark at first, but as you grew older and hopefully wiser, it became a flame and with each victory and defeat it would dim and grow, dim and grow.  It empowers you, ʻtil this day, no matter how bright.  And maybe youʻre not a parent, not yet, not planning to be, havenʻt thought about it, but for those who are, thereʻs a little fire next to yours.  Those are your kids, precious children who are now thrown back to a time familiar to you: playing games, running around outside.  Theyʻre completely new beings, letting their flame burn, walking upon creation as half-you and half-the-other-half.  And they have no idea how much power they have.  Maybe you donʻt have a clue about yourʻs, either.

Itʻs difficult to write about this, and Iʻm not exactly sure why I am because Iʻm not a parent. However, I have parents.  Loving, imperfectly perfect souls that made me.  And theyʻre awesome, but I think they can lose sight of their power, in the process of tending to those little fires that keep growing, beside their own.  There was a scene in that movie, where the mom sat in the stands with her fiance and the dad, now the head coach of his boyʻs soccer team, was pacing the sideline.  All of a sudden, the boy scores a goal and wins the game for the team, and in that moment there was common, yet brilliant, camera work.  Everything slowed to nearly a stop, the grass was now greener, the smiles on everyoneʻs faces were whiter, the director cued the climatic orchestra, and it panned from the boyʻs expression, to the dadʻs, then the momʻs.  And in that moment the two parents looked at their son and then at each other.  At that point I turned the movie off because there it was: the climax.  And I love that it lasted five seconds and wasnʻt in the ending.

Iʻve seen my parents do that, without the music of course.  Iʻve seen them see me or my brother or sister and see themselves, and I somehow knew that there was difference between looking and seeing and it mustʻve been an important knot amongst the many it takes to hold a family together.  In those junctures, fires grew powerful.  Now, just a little older, I know getting an A on a midterm isnʻt as exciting for them as was me making my first three-point shot, years ago.  I know that.  But I also know that they share a connection because of the two of them, then also because of me and the journey it took to create a little spark from their fire.  And so I take responsibility for my flame, and make sure I put an effort into keeping it burning brightly and proudly, for them, to remind them of their power.  Because if anything were to happen, if they somehow lost grasp of it, I and any other child would naturally feel part to blame.  

If youʻre able, make an effort in encouraging the people who raised you, to keep on keeping on.  Remind them that they did good, they did great.  Theyʻre powerful.  And our flaws are certainly not a reflection of them.  There are three words in this English language that you could say, to say it all.  I forget them now and then, but I hope itʻs said often to the people who deserve it the most, in your life and in your language, typed, emailed, painted, sung, scribbled, or written.  Itʻs not a cultural thing, not a suggestion coming from a psychiatrist; itʻs just common sense, that sometimes goes uncommon, to help the people who helped you, to look at every relationship with a servantʻs eye.  Parents need that, and in humility and love, we should provide it. Just cuz.



Thank you for my fire. I love you two so much.



5 thoughts on “Fire

  1. small kine FB repost…BUT firs–you are worthy of my fiya!

    One day you going be one creata. Like yo Faddah who created eryting, you will know wat giving birt from yo essence means an wea dat fiya came from. Termodynamics Law Numba 1: no can create or destroy enegy (she only flow from one form to anuda). So dare: yo fiya came from hour fiya came from hour parentʻs fiya etc. Likewise da first fiya came from da Faddah an He neva give Adam choice about deese tings: his name, his sex, his skin kala, wea on da planet he was goin come out, his birtdate, his deathdate, his ethnicity, da choosing of his parens, AND (drum roll…) his fiya paughtnah (as rite, da firs arranged marriage!). All deese “no moa choice tings” was moa important den what Adam cuud do–it shows da supreme sovereignty of da Creata ova His creation an His plans foa da besesst fiya foa erybody. It shows the ultimate love He has foa His creation too–He give choice (no fauce anyone to like, love or even acknowledge Him). Fo you same ting: you neva choose yo name (was going be “Watchman” if you was one boy), yo sex, yo skin tone/eye kala/hair texcha, yo birthday etc. etc–Ok, we goin let you choose yo spouse, Dis is da mystery dat is da common sense you speak of: tank yo creatas an fo da fiya dey gave you. But only da akamai going do dis: seek da plan dat da Faddah get fo dem, try fo undastan an do dare assignment. Da Faddah supa happy wt da way you seek Him. He hides da mysteries in plain sight so dat da obvious becomes da beautiful becomes da magnificent. An dat is why we worship da Creata NOT da creation.

    An being one reedah is dangerous too. Tink about it: we come across moa den 600,000 words/day (moa den all of wats in Tolstoyʻs “War And Peace”). We probably no read dat many but, hour eyes process dat many. Dat means we gotta choose wisely, we gotta disallow plene messages, we gotta filta. Da bessess place to staught an end is wit wat da Faddah says. Yep, no can go wrong wit dat and only can go wrong witout it. From Adam to da present, we keep on trying fo make hour own path, fo architect hour plans above and beyond wat He wants fo us. Da Bible calls dis rebellion an I call dis stupidity. Da Faddah is perfect an nobody like Him. His love is perfeck an His plans fo me an you is perfeck.

    Proverbs 3:5-12 Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
    don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
    Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
    he’s the one who will keep you on track.
    Don’t assume that you know it all.
    Run to God! Run from evil!
    Your body will glow with health,
    your very bones will vibrate with life!
    Honor God with everything you own;
    give him the first and the best.
    Your barns will burst,
    your wine vats will brim over.
    But don’t, dear friend, resent God’s discipline;
    don’t sulk under his loving correction.
    It’s the child he loves that God corrects;
    a father’s delight is behind all this.

  2. Reblogged this on God's Enduring Love and commented:
    Looks like we have a philosopher in our family! Granddaughter Amber, already a gifted writer is in her second year at the University of Hawaii, Hilo campus shares about the ‘Fire’ in her life. Beautiful post, Amber!

  3. my day has just been made…..You are absolutely right about a lot of things. Youʻre right about writing being scary, (I think reading pidgin by someone who doesn’t speak it is scarier but…who am I…) youʻre right about dad and I needing to hear that we did a good job, youʻre right about the “connection” that parents have because they share in the creation of that spark….nothing is more amazing that seeing you make not just one, but many 3 pointers, steals, lay-ups, and free throws…getting an A on a midterm is ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! I guess itʻs just not something we can see happening first hand, but guaranteed, it sets us ablaze, and some times makes me wish I had given birth to a lot more sparkles! (hehe…squash that thought…) I love you like a crazy lady, and I love dad in the same way, even if he drive me pupule…God is the sticky, gooey glue that holds us together, inside, and to each other. That love is soooooo pili pili…you canʻt get it off. LOVE YOU!!!

  4. Hi Amber

    I enjoyed your introspection & your ability to convey them to us! But when you reflect on life- your life, its all about God, & His gifts to you- your being, your intelligence, your ability, your writing skills, your life, your future, your hopes, your dreams, your parents, etc.

    Everything is a gift from God, who chose & loved you in Christ, before the foundation of the world Ephesians 1:4. Before your parents got together, before Adam & Eve were created, & before the world was formed, God already knew you Amber, & chose you in Christ to be a very special person- pure & holy!

    Consider this: You had no choice to be born, no choice of your parents, no choice of your gender, no choice of your ethnicity, no choice of your nationality, & no choice of when in history you would be living; but God did all the choosing for you! God bless you sweetheart!

    The Bible states in all thy ways acknowledge Him, & He shall direct thy path Proverbs 3:6.


  5. Funny dat Grampla says some same stuffs I did (cause I was quoting him befoa he wen rite!!!). Den he wen use da same scripchas too. Whoa, like faddah, like son.

    On da “neva have choice”, all da physical attribewts is obvious, but Grampla also includes “time in history” which is an unreal obsavashun cuz yo assignment is defined an calculated by da Faddah–he get perfeck tinking an planning. Yo life is fo such a time as dis. Ery day, ery millisecond counts. So keep yo board waxed, yo ca clean, yo planna in orda, yo fuud choices perfeck. Plenne kine opportunities coming yo way.

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