After leaving Hawaii, we had every intention of going back to join my parents for the week they had already planned to spend with us there. We couldn’t allow one previous negative experience to shape our entire view of Hawaii. So we met up with them in Honolulu, where we spent a day visiting Pearl Harbor and the National Memorial Cemetery.

Even with all the rain and flooding Honolulu had received just days before we arrived, many roads had already reopened, making it easy to get around. Before heading north, we found a delicious local restaurant tucked away minutes from the Pearl Harbor Museum—Sweet Corner Café (You seriously need to try it!). An energetic young woman from China greeted us and cared for us with such genuine hospitality that it felt like more than just a meal.

Once we arrived in Laie, things shifted. We learned that some of the areas we had just traveled through had been evacuated due to a local dam under pressure—threatening homes and businesses, including the Dole pineapple plantation. What we didn’t realize at the time was that just hours before our arrival, much of the area had been flooded. Many nearby families had lost so much—their homes, their belongings—washed over by the heavy rains.

The temple was still open, but the Polynesian Cultural Center had closed, which meant rearranging our plans. But that unexpected change gave us the opportunity to attend church with the locals—and that’s where everything deepened.

It was there that I began to better understand what people mean when they talk about “the spirit of aloha.” It goes far beyond a warm greeting. I saw it in their eyes and in the way they embraced each other after facing a shared hardship. I felt it in their testimonies, in the stories of service and support, and in the way they sang their traditional farewell song, “Aloha ʻOe,” to a sister on her last Sunday.

This wasn’t just a ward. This was a family—united in heart and mind, with a deep, mutual love and respect for one another.

In fact, the “Aloha Spirit” is written into Hawaiʻi state law. It describes aloha as the coordination of mind and heart within each person, expressed through qualities like kindness, unity, humility, patience, and harmony. It is more than a greeting—it is a way of living that recognizes the deep importance of every individual in the collective whole.

That spirit reminded me of other moments in my life. It took me back to when our Canton ward, along with friends, family, and neighbors, came together to carry us through the loss of our daughter, Julia—Hallie’s twin (you can read our story here). As well as the time when I was younger and our Fishers ward and neighbors supported our family through the loss of my older brother.

There’s something about those moments—when people show up for each other in love and unity—that creates a lasting bond. It’s a quiet but powerful “I see you” connection that ties people together in shared humanity.

I was reminded that we are already part of a global community—people from different backgrounds, perspectives, and experiences—united in a common goal: to serve and love God and His children as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While we don’t always feel that same depth of connection in every ward, I’ve often felt this same “spirit of aloha” in the temple. It is there that differences fall away, everyone stands equal, and we practice the kind of community I believe God intends for all His children—both inside and outside His holy house.

Our plans didn’t unfold the way we expected, but I’m grateful for that sacrament meeting and the perspective it gave me. Our time on Oahu was brief—but deeply worth it.

We then spent the rest of our week together in Kauai. There were school days for the kids while my parents went off on their own adventures. We fit in a beautiful hike, a visit to a botanical garden, Pink’s ice cream, walk along the beach, a scenic drive through Waimea Canyon, a spouting horn, and swimming.

And —at Hallie’s request—we had an early birthday celebration which led to a reunion with friends from our Workaway experience.

That reunion felt especially meaningful. It gave us a chance to leave on better terms than before—a reminder that even when we have differences, we can still think, speak, and connect in friendship. We ended that day together at a Hawaiian sing-along, complete with hula dancing.

One of the highlights of the week was a boat trip along the Nā Pali Coast. We snorkeled among colorful fish and even spotted a turtle before enduring a very wavy ride that revealed just how prone some of us are to seasickness. Thankfully, the ride back was much calmer—and much more enjoyable.

Sunday—Palm Sunday—was our last with the Anahola Ward. We had only told a couple of people we were leaving, but that was enough. At the end of the meeting, after singing “Aloha ʻOe” for another departing family, a sweet sister surprised us with handmade leis. It was unexpected and deeply touching, especially since we hadn’t been there long—and had even been gone for a couple of weeks in between.

We haven’t had a consistent home ward in nearly two years, so to be acknowledged and embraced as part of their family meant more than I expected.

We’ve found something to love in every place we go—and it almost always comes down to the people. Hallie, especially, had a hard time leaving her Primary teacher. She said he was the best teacher she’s had in a long time—he was simply kind to her in a way that stayed with her.

Our final week in Hawaii took us to the Big Island. There, we experienced black sand beaches that looked like crumbled Oreo cookies, an almost-erupting volcano, local museums, and a hike to a green sand beach. Gavin ended up with an infection that brought high fevers and required extra care, so while we adjusted to that, the girls explored the property—researching plants and flowers and discovering all kinds of unexpected wildlife.

While Kauai had chickens roaming freely, the Big Island seemed to belong to the pigs—not to mention the cats that had clearly claimed the property as their own. The girls also found tree frogs, oversized snails, and black crabs, turning even our downtime into exploration.

Easter Sunday was simple—but still meaningful. Conference started at 6 a.m., so we had breakfast after the first session, followed by an egg hunt and a short Easter message. Then we listened to the second session while driving two hours to the trailhead for the green sand beach. It was windy, rocky, and beautiful—and while the sand was more coarse than expected, it was still something special to see.

Throughout our travels, we’ve mostly stayed in Airbnbs—and somehow, we consistently find the best places with the best hosts. We’ve been so grateful for their kindness and generosity. Truly, if anyone reading this is considering visiting the places we’ve been, we’d happily share our recommendations. Each place has been family-friendly and has given Phil and me enough peace of mind to occasionally step away for a date night—trying local foods our kids might not fully appreciate just yet.

I’m really glad we came back to Hawaii—and that we stayed long enough to experience more of it than we originally planned.’Aloha Oe’, until we meet again!