The Ashes and Hope of Community

The fire in Lahaina started mauka (up the mountain), but roared furiously towards the sea (makai). At one point the flames reportedly raced down the slopes, scorching a mile every minute. They destroyed everything in their path.

Homes, families, businesses, cars; even the iconic banyan tree on Front Street fell victim to the inferno. It seems there is nothing left but the burned-out shells of the residents’ lives.

But the community remains, swelling with pride even as it sweats with exhaustion. Photos, videos, and stories portray selfless and heroic acts. Volunteers are working tirelessly to provide for those who have lost everything. People from around our country, and perhaps the world, care and help in ways we’ll never know.

What Is Community?

What is community? Oxford Languages defines community, in part, as “a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.”

Surely the most precious gift humanity gives itself deserves a more beautiful definition.

While the human race thrives through communal connections every day, nothing brings it into focus like a disaster. Nothing else bolsters the ranks and rallies the troops like our innate need to help. This month, the community of Lahaina surged in population as many hearts in the world stood in solidarity with theirs. The ashes of their devastation seem to float down on our shoulders. We see their loss, their frailty, their strength, their grief, their courage, and many of us ache for their pain. We pray, we send help, and we grieve with them. Theirs is just one in the endless chain of catastrophes that we, as the human family, suffer. The Hawaiians won’t always be foremost in our thoughts. But for these few days or weeks, the community of Lahaina has grown by millions.

Hopefully the burgeoning support for the people of Maui will comfort them as the tough work of grief begins. Kevin and I have been fortunate enough to visit Lahaina several times, and escaped the midday heat by ducking under the wild, high branches of their famous banyan tree. The square in which it sits is a gathering place, a place of aloha, a peaceful retreat. Grieving has scarcely begun for these folks. While I’m old enough to have lost many people I’ve loved, my two greatest heartaches have taught me life’s toughest lessons. The first was the death of our daughter Catherine who, at the age of fourteen, died on a snowmobile trip with our church’s youth group.

The second was the loss of church itself.

Loss of Church Meant Loss of Community

The destruction of my soul’s connection with the Christian community looked nothing like the inferno that leveled Lahaina. Rather, an insidious and seemingly innocuous political movement called the Religious Right set into motion a carefully-crafted crusade to elect Donald Trump as president of the United States. I take responsibility for my naivete and utter lack of attention as this unfolded. I heard rumblings and ignored them. I thought surely this was just a bunch of hyped-up overzealous nut jobs blowing off steam. I thought Christians would never fall for his lies.

Sadly, I was wrong.

At that same time, Kevin and I left the valley we’d called home for forty-two years. That loss of community compounded the heartache of betrayal by the people who had introduced me to Jesus. We tried several churches in our new town, Pagosa Springs, but we could find no one who dared stand up and challenge the Religious Right’s status quo. After exhausting all avenues of Heart make america love again trying to work within the church to challenge this movement, we walked out the door and never looked back. I launched my website in 2019, and wrote almost continuously for more than two years. I used my ability to write, the only resource at my disposal, to share information and hopefully bring comfort to my fellow Exvangelicals.

I also used it as a virtual punching bag, pouring out my grief and fury until the well ran dry. Like a child who pitches a fit and sobs until only hiccups remain, I finally went silent for quite a while, just to listen. But for those first couple of years during COVID, writing saved me. Blogging, having some work published, and receiving feedback provided a much-needed virtual community.

Jesus may have saved my soul, but writing saved my sanity.

Finally, with Trump losing the 2020 election, and then January 6 receding in our collective rearview mirror, I was lulled into a false sense of stability. “No longer will he trouble us,” I thought. “Surely even the Moral Majority will see him for the lunatic he is.”

Wrong again.

Grief Gives Way to Healing

I finally accepted the fact that Christian Trumpers are probably never going to come to their senses. I decided it was time to stop whining. Lifting my eyes beyond church, I began to search for community all around me. I also remembered my community at large.

When COVID finally receded, I put myself out there when local opportunities arose. Some of my efforts fell flat, but by the grace of God, I’ve met three women in Pagosa who have become friends.

Closer to home, on my little dirt cul-de-sac, I introduced myself to all my neighbors. Most of them are really quite friendly, especially if you drop off some baked goods. Turns out they, like everyone else on the planet, could use a listening ear now and then. Sometimes they need a little more. Someday I probably will, too. They range in age from one year to eighty plus, and their backgrounds are as varied as their ages. Listening to them expands my world. Lord have mercy, did I need that!

Finally, I remembered the women who’ve loved me forever. Friends around the country and friends from years past. I guess I was taking for granted the occasional phone call or email, the Christmas card and the random meme sent with the message, “this reminded me of you.” When COVID banished us from society, our occasional contacts became regular conversations. We’d never forgotten our history or our bonds, but taking the time to reconnect has been a glorious reminder that I am loved, and they are, too.

These days I am busy with people as well as with writing, and I am grateful beyond words.

Looking forward, I’m actually dipping my toes in the pool of new possibilities.

Finally Looking Forward to the Future

An extraordinary opportunity popped up on my Facebook feed a few weeks ago. One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, is hosting a writing retreat in Santa Fe in a few weeks. Santa Fe is only a three-hour drive! And Kevin, my amazing partner and best friend, encouraged me to buy the tickets even as I was hitting “send” on the registration.

I knew he would say yes. Because I am unbelievably blessed by my husband of forty years, the cornerstone of my community.

For the first time since the 2016 election, I am feeling a distantly familiar emotion I thought had departed forever:

Hope.

In other fabulous news, they’re reporting that the banyan tree might survive. News reports show video of water being continuously sprayed on her burned branches and trunk. They believe that underneath all the devastation, she might be able to gather her resources and hang onto life- not only to survive, but to thrive.

As one who has been there, I send her healing aloha energy from Colorado, as well as a message of hope:

Hang in there, honey. You can do it.

**As of August 2023, I’ve added a new page to the bookstore called Wisdom, Humor, and Amazing Writing. These are works from my favorite authors that keep me company, make me laugh, make me cry, and let me know I’m not alone. Check it out!