Love Finds You in Lahaina, Hawaii Read online

  A myna bird scolded from the rail of the lanai. Sandi double-checked her references. “Andrew Adams. It wasn’t over between them.”

  Auntie Hannah wagged her finger. “The course of true love never runs smooth, they say. Hmm, a true saying. Love never carries our hearts where we think it ought. Do you agree?”

  Sandi nodded as she thought of the dreams she had shared with John. Who could imagine that at age twenty-five she would live a lifetime without him? “So. Everything changed.”

  “Yes. Yes. When we least expect it. Miracles. Awakenings. That was the night everything changed. After dinner, Kaiulani and Annie returned to the hotel. It all seemed so ordinary, but in those few hours of separation, heaven and earth—every expectation of the future—our lives and eternity were altered.”

  * * * *

  Victorian England

  It was very late when Andrew and Winston returned the ladies to the Savoy. The good-byes in the lobby were brief. In the shadow of the closed coat-check room, Andrew stooped to kiss Kaiulani. She turned away abruptly, not attempting to conceal her contempt for him.

  Winston had to run to catch the last train in order to get back to Sandhurst before he violated the term of his leave.

  Kaiulani and Annie arrived at their rooms in two very different moods. The princess was deep in thought, pondering what she had learned from Winston. She vowed to approach her studies with a new commitment: she would gain all the attributes of a queen. Against this vow, Andrew Adams was a distraction.

  Annie also arrived at their suite, thinking of their evening’s companions. In her mind was a portrait of how well she could care for Winston and make him happy. What she had gained from the evening was a vision of an alliance between Great Britain and Hawaii. Naturally the coalition would require the presence in Honolulu of a dashing young officer named Winston Churchill.

  Neither young woman was prepared for the change they would find in the third member of their trio.

  Hannah was in her long white nightgown. Her bare feet were curled beneath her as she sat in the chair nearest the fire.

  A Bible was open on her lap.

  “Thank you for being me tonight,” Kaiulani said. “Our evening was wonderful.”

  Hannah looked up but kept her finger in the Scripture passage. “You should have been there, Kaiulani.”

  Kaiulani was confused. Hannah’s words were scolding, but her expression was radiant. “Why? What happened? Did someone recognize you? As not me, I mean?”

  Hannah shook her head, and Kaiulani sighed with relief.

  “No,” Hannah said, “your talk was very well received. You thanked them for their commitment to sending missionaries. You reminded them that your kingdom is Christian because of those who carried the gospel to Hawaii. Then you quoted Saint Paul: ‘How shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? And how shall they hear without a preacher?’ 15 They appreciated your words.”

  Kaiulani pulled a chair close to Hannah and kicked off her dress shoes. “Then, what?”

  “Oh, Kaiulani, you missed hearing the preacher! Rodney Smith—Gipsy, they call him! Such a kind man. Such a gentle spirit. But he speaks with such mana, such power! And he was talking to you!”

  Leaning forward, Kaiulani took both of Hannah’s hands in hers. “What do you mean? What did he say?”

  Withdrawing from her friend’s grasp, Hannah lifted the Bible and angled it toward the light coming from the electric lamp on the mantle. “Listen,” she said.

  “The Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night: and God said, Ask what I shall give thee… .

  O Lord my God, thou hast made thy servant king instead of David my father; and I am but a little child: I know not how to go out or come in.

  Give therefore thy servant an understanding heart to judge thy people, that I may discern between good and bad: for who is able to judge this thy so great a people?” 16

  Hannah raised her eyes from the text. Tilting her head to the side she asked, “Do you know what the Lord replied?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Listen!”

  “The speech pleased the Lord, that Solomon had asked this thing.

  And God said unto him, Because thou hast asked this thing, and hast not asked for thyself long life; neither hast asked riches for thyself, nor hast asked the life of thine enemies; but hast asked for thyself understanding to discern judgment;

  Behold, I have done according to thy words: lo, I have given thee a wise and an understanding heart; so that there was none like thee before thee, neither after thee shall any arise like unto thee.

  And I have also given thee that which thou hast not asked, both riches, and honour: so that there shall not be any among the kings like unto thee all thy days.” 17

  “Do you see?” Hannah persisted. “God loves it when we ask for understanding, for wisdom. That’s a prayer He loves to answer. And Mister Smith’s words weren’t just for kings and queens, Kaiulani! They spoke to my heart, too.”

  Kaiulani considered the peaceful countenance of her friend. Something was different. “You enjoyed the evening, then.”

  “Enjoy. A small word for such a night. More than that. I shall never be the same. But hear me, Kaiulani: Gipsy Smith prepared this sermon for your ears. For your sake He gave this message, and I am meant to bring it to you.”

  With a sense of wonder Kaiulani searched Hannah’s clear eyes. “At the same moment I was learning; thinking about things for the first time—things I had not imagined. I have never understood the battle for my people and my nation. About why the grandsons of American missionaries, only two generations later, wish to destroy the monarchy and steal our kingdom. But I am certain that this is a battle for the souls of our people.”

  “Then God had a purpose for us to go our separate ways tonight. While you were learning about the kingdoms of men, I was hearing another greater truth about the kingdom of heaven. My heart is so light! I could fly away into the clouds.” Hannah gripped Kaiulani’s hands. “He is preaching again tomorrow night. Kaiulani! Annie! We three must go together. Such hope! You must hear him.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The Royal Aquarium, located in Westminster just north of Westminster Abbey, had seen better days. Constructed to provide family amusement in the heart of London, “the tank” had degenerated over time. Now it featured card parlors and billiard tables and cigar smoke and dubious theatrical offerings.

  But the auditorium at the Aquarium’s west end seated thirteen hundred people. It was available for rent by the week…cheap.

  It was the ideal location for a revival meeting.

  Annie, Hannah, and Kaiulani were dressed simply, so as not to attract attention. Nor was their olive-tan skin unusual. Among the throng heading toward the hall were East Indians and others whose families still lived in distant, tropical islands.

  The expectant onlookers included men and women in evening dress and laborers in stiff-fabric trousers. They were young and old, families and lone soldiers in uniform.

  Kaiulani, Hannah, and Annie found seats on the aisle two-thirds of the way back on the main floor of the auditorium. The seats all around and in the galleries quickly filled, until the theatre’s capacity was reached. Thereafter latecomers stood on the stairs and leaned in at the doors.

  Kaiulani waited for the program to begin by studying the man seated on the platform. Swarthy-skinned, with brown hair and drooping brown moustache, Gipsy Smith projected a calm, agreeable demeanor. There was nothing egotistical or superior in the way he looked about with interest, smiling continuously. He nodded in time to the hymns being played on the grand organ in the gallery. The spotlights illuminating the stage glistened on his high, broad forehead.

  The princess expected Smith to receive a formal introduction. Surely some noted educator or a famous church leader would call the meeting to order and recite the orator’s credentials.

  As the organ finished the last notes of a song and held the first chord of another, Gipsy Smith stood
, walked to the very edge of the platform, and began to sing.

  “I can hear my Savior calling,

  I can hear my Savior calling,

  I can hear my Savior calling,

  ‘Take thy cross and follow, follow me.’ ” 18

  Smith’s pleasant tenor voice rolled across the crowd. By the time he had completed three verses of the hymn, the audience was completely silent and attentive; much more so than if someone famous had introduced him.

  As the last notes of “I’ll go with Him, with Him, all the way” flew up to the rafters and then died away, Kaiulani was riveted in place to hear Smith speak.

  “My text for tonight is First John, chapter four, verse seven,” the preacher said. “ ‘Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.’ ”

  “There it is,” Smith said. “That’s all the gospel in a nutshell. Do you realize that if all of you went out of here tonight able to say, ‘I know God loves me,’ and if tomorrow you said to everyone you meet, ‘God loves you, and so do I—’ ” Smith paused to let the tension build. “If you did those two things, in a week I’d be out of a job?”

  The hall reverberated with appreciative laughter.

  “Now you may think that I just told a joke to ‘warm you up.’ You hear music hall performers do that all the time, don’t you? But you’d be wrong! I am completely in earnest! If you committed to say those two phrases to everyone you encounter, within a week this nation would experience the greatest spiritual revival in history. And from this nation to all the world!”

  Kaiulani glanced at Hannah. Her friend was listening intently.

  “But what if you can’t honestly say that you know God loves you? What if you think He can’t love you? What then?”

  Smith stopped and looked around the auditorium. His gaze was not penetrating or challenging. Instead, his expression carried the certainty that he already knew every fear, every worry, every struggle, in every heart, because he had experienced them himself.

  “I was born a gypsy,” he admitted. “No fixed abode. Not welcomed in any town. Name a crime, and I could be convicted of it before ever setting foot in a place. Once, when I was young, I went into a church meeting. As I walked into the gathering, I overheard someone say, ‘Oh, it’s only a gypsy boy. What’s he doing here?’

  “Can you imagine? Friend, have you been rejected by men? Do you feel unwanted? Let me tell you about a ‘friend that sticketh closer than a brother.’ 19 His name is Jesus!”

  That was the moment Kaiulani spotted someone she recognized. Across the hall from her, heading near the stage with intense determination—and joy beaming from ear-to-ear—was Andrew Adams. His notebook was in one hand, a pencil in the other. It was clear, however, that he was no longer there as a journalist. The message had captured his heart.

  Annie was also moved. She took a handkerchief out of her sleeve. She was alternately twisting it and using it to dab her eyes. Leaning close to Kaiulani, she whispered, “Auwe. I have forgotten what it means. Forgotten. If only the haole sons of the missionaries in Honolulu who despise our people could hear. This is the message their grandparents came to Hawaii to tell us! The sons of the missionaries…so lost!”

  “ ‘But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us,’ ” Smith quoted from Romans, chapter 5. Lifting his chin so that his voice carried to the topmost gallery, Smith posed this question: “Do you love anyone enough to die for them? Perhaps you do. But God says here’s how much He loves you: while you are still a sinner, God’s enemy, without you changing one thing about your life—without even fixing the things you know need to be mended—right now, tonight, God loves you enough that He sent His only Son to die for you!”

  Kaiulani felt as though Smith were speaking directly to her. What had been missing in her spirit? Was this it? To know that God loved her, just as she was—an imperfect individual?

  “Let me tell you a story about the way God loves you,” Smith continued. “When I was a boy, I found an egg that had been kicked out of a nest but was not broken. I took it home and when the old speckled hen was up off the straw, I snuck it into her clutch. Now she sat on that extra egg, and soon enough, it hatched. Do you know, it was a wild bird! A partridge! But that mother hen loved that chick and cared for it and nurtured it and protected it with exactly the same measure she gave her own.”

  Once more Smith looked around the auditorium. His smile beamed at Kaiulani. He was unhurried. He made Kaiulani feel that if he had to remain all night long to make a connection with each and every person present, he was willing to do so.

  Now Andrew stood beneath the pulpit. His countenance was changed. His eyes shone as he looked up at the preacher. Andrew, like a wild bird, had been gathered in. Kaiulani knew she was witnessing a miracle.

  “That’s the way God loves you,” Smith said, looking directly at Andrew. “You feel like you’ve been kicked out of the nest, with nowhere to turn and no one to care for you or about you. But I stand before you tonight and promise you: God loves you…and so do I!

  “Sisters and brothers,” Smith proclaimed, “here’s the Good News: you can be a new creation in Christ Jesus, now, tonight, and none of us—not one!—will think you’re crazy! What do you say? Will you come up here and let me pray with you? Will you give your heart to Jesus, tonight? Come up here while we’re singing. If you’re here with friends, they’ll wait for you. After all, God’s been waiting for you for your whole life.”

  The hearts of hundreds hung on every word. When Kaiulani saw tears streaming down Andrew’s cheek, she put her gloved hand to her cheek. It came away moist.

  Once more Gipsy Smith began to sing:

  “The dying thief rejoiced to see

  That fountain in his day;

  And there may I, though vile as he,

  Wash all my sins away.” 20

  Kaiulani, Hannah, and Annie sang with him, their sweet soprano voices mingling with the multitude. Kaiulani saw Andrew Adams lift his hands and drop to his knees, as the preacher put his hand on his head.

  “Do you want to go forward? I’ll go with you,” Hannah offered, linking her arms with Kaiulani and Annie. “Come on! I went last night! We three will go to the altar together.”

  Kaiulani felt a tug at her heart. A life-changing power had been unleashed tonight—an eternal love bigger and more powerful than she had ever felt.

  “Yes!” Kaiulani cried. “I’ll go!” The sisters joined the human current moving forward down the aisle to the front.

  The preacher proclaimed, “From the throne of God to your heart! From your heart to England! From England to all the world!”

  * * * *

  The throng of people on the eastbound platform at the Westminster tube station had almost all come from hearing Gipsy Smith. Kaiulani and her companions were among those waiting for the train. When they had emerged from the service there were so many people waving for cabs that the Hawaiians merely allowed themselves to be swept along toward the Underground.

  The mood of the crowd was jubilant, elated. Total strangers parted from each other, shouting, “God loves you, and so do I!”

  Kaiulani tried to remember when she had seen such a mingling of joy and tears. She failed to produce a memory to compare with this night. Hannah talked excitedly of how what she had experienced the night before had been confirmed on this evening. She bubbled with enthusiasm to hear that Kaiulani felt the same way.

  Annie cried softly into her handkerchief, bobbing her head when Kaiulani asked if she were all right. “You know,” Annie said, “I felt as though he were speaking to me…just to me!”

  The princess agreed she felt the same way.

  Clouds of steam rose from the densely packed mob of umbrellas and soaked woolen overcoats. No one seemed to mind, nor did they complain when the first train to arrive was instantly filled to capacity and departed with twice that number still remaining on the platform.

 
Kaiulani, Hannah, and Annie advanced to the edge of the platform.

  “There may be no seats on the train,” Hannah observed.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Kaiulani said. “It’s just one stop to Charing Cross and our hotel.”

  The rattle of an arriving train could be heard far off down the tunnel. Instinctively Kaiulani turned toward the sound, though she could not see through the forest of tall hats.

  What she did see was Andrew Adams’ beaming countenance. Looking back into her eyes from down the length of the platform, she saw more than just his familiar features. She saw a changed soul. Andrew was radiant. There was no trace of the familiar cynicism that usually constricted his brow; no mocking sarcasm lurking in his smile.

  He waved both arms—a broad gesture that brought wider smiles to those around him.