HAUOLINANINOHEA - Happy, Beautiful, Lovely . . . and so much more

Attempting to write a story about my sister plays like the theme song from the movie,
“Love Story.” “Where do I begin to tell the story of how great a [sis] can be . . . the sweet love story that is older than the sea . . . the simple truth about the love she brought to me . . . where do I start?”
If the first Bible sibling story recounted the love between two sisters instead of two brothers it might go like this. Happy and Joy were gathering purple roses and plumerias on the hillside. They danced along the waters with their baskets laden with fragrant blossoms to a mango tree and rested in the shade of its broad and beautiful branches. In the same moment, each sister gleefully exclaimed, “I gathered these for you!” They laughed joyfully and each insisted the other take the better part. They skipped off hand-in-hand and shared their combined gifts of the earth with all they met along their path. Their joys were always doubled when they spent their hours together.

The first time I met Hauoli was when she drove with her family to Rapid City, South Dakota in their new Rambler station wagon, hot off the assembly line in Detroit. They came to pick up their son, Elder Basso, who was serving as a missionary in the Northern Indian Mission. They surprised him by driving out to the Fair Grounds where he was busy working on a church display. He was known for his ingenious hands that could build nearly anything his creative mind could invent.

After a happy reunion out at the fairgrounds, the Basso family came back into Rapid City to spend the night before heading west to return to their island home in Honolulu. Elder Basso’s sister Abbie, or Hauoli as the family called her, stayed overnight with me (Sister Hansen) and my companion, Sister Lehua Awai from the Basso’s home congregation, the Auwaiolimu Ward in Honolulu. We became fast friends. Female missionaries are called sisters and Elder Basso’s sister fit right into that greeting. We soon felt like real sisters and eventually she became the little sister I never had.

It was like a match made in heaven! After serving our missions, Chuck presented me with a huge, priceless engagement ring.

In 1969, Hauoli’s brother that the family affectionately called “Chuckie” became my eternal companion. We sealed our love in the Hawaiian Temple and I became part of the Basso o’hana forever. Heaven smiled on us.
Hauoli instantly accepted me as her longed for sister in a family of brothers.
Other acceptances came hard. Some never came at all. But I always had an ally in Hauoli. We never had unkind words between us and never doubted our allegiance to one another. We could talk about anything and everything and often did so all through the night. Together we danced hula, sewed leis, laughed, cried, shopped and “talked story” together. When she returned to her temple covenants and served faithfully in the largest women’s organization in the world, no one was happier than I was.
She was totally devoted to her only son. She became a young widow so the Hawaiian name she selected for her first daughter was never used. She always kept it in her heart “just in case.”

My love for her was increased by her love for our children. They made her an Auntie and she loved to spoil them with gifts, junk food and movies. She taught me too late that children love you more for being fun than faithful – for playing more than praying and for partying more than parenting. Most of her childhood days were carefree and fun. Most of mine were traumatic and arduous. She laughed. I pondered. She spent. I saved. She loved razzleberry pie. I loved lemon cream cheese. She drove to the movies. I ran around the neighborhood. She drank soda. I drank wheat grass. She played. I worked. She worked. I prayed. She was brunette. I was blond. She was beautiful. I was plain. Our commonality was love. We both had the “aloha” spirit. We both loved to give. We both ended our emails with “Miss you. Love you.”

In my own adaptation of the story of “The Hare and the Tortoise,” I am the slow, boring tortoise. She is the happy hare. I agree with the Biblical observation that “. . . the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.” (Ecclesiastes 9:11). When we have the Lord on our side and we are on His . . . that is our advantage in the race of life. That advantage helps us win when we’re not the fastest or strongest. We can all be winners. “Abbie, the people’s princess” was a winner and was loved by all who knew her, especially me. She was a loyal and devoted friend to all. Sadly, for our breaking hearts, beloved Hauolinaninohea is the happy hare that just couldn’t wait to hop into heaven. She passed me on the downhill slope and left me in the dust of South Africa. Though an understanding of God’s eternal plan burns brightly in my soul, my sorrow in missing our sister seems unrelenting. It's still so hard to wrap our minds and hearts around the reality of her “graduation” and absence from mortality.

The other night we had a special Family Home Evening here with other Senior Missionaries. One sister had a beautiful display of her African art work. She was willing to trade them as we don’t work for any money in our volunteer service here. I began to think of what I had of any value to trade for a painting to send to Hauoli. I thought, “She would like that one or maybe this . . .” Then my tears began to flow as I realized that she is now beyond postal delivery boundaries and that my sweet little sister shopping days are over. Now she is part of the gallery of the Creator's heavenly masterpieces. Her laughter now falls on other ears. Her dancing entertains angels. Her joy is full. Her earthly work is finished. She is at peace.

Then these words came to my mind: “. . . weeping may endure for a night, but “joy cometh in the morning.” (Psalms 30:5) Just when I thought that the weeping might never stop, I heard my sister’s voice speak to me from a world far away from her lifeless, bald body, “Miss you. Love you!” May eternal possibilities keep us forever as sisters . . . and friends. It’s such a blessing to have friends who are like family and family who are friends.

Aloha, my beloved sister,
Hauolinaninohea.
Miss you. Love you . . .
forever.