As I have kept up with the news coverage about the hurricane force winds and immense amounts of rain currently buffeting the islands of Hawaii, I think often about the many times I have been in the islands to lead expeditions to the 13,400 foot summit of Mauna Loa volcano on the "big" island, called Hawaii.  When we arrive at the airport in Hilo after flying nine hours from the wintry depths of the Midwest, stepping off the airplane is of course magical:  warmth and sunshine, continually.  Almost like a paradise (whatever "paradise" really is!).
     (Sidebar:  our English word "paradise" is actually based on a Persian word, "paradise," (Persian and English sharing common Indo-European roots) which means "garden.")
     Although we spend most of our time well above the verdancy of the valleys and plantations that spread across most of the island, hiking through miles and miles of emptiness and red and black lava to reach the top of the volcano, we nonetheless sense its presence.  Hawaii is a marvelous place.
     Yet just as the recent eruptions of Kilauea volcano underscored the island's fragility, so did this hurricane:  sometimes even paradise is not so marvelous.  The golden aura has lost some of its luster.
     When paradise is lost, where will we go?  Eden and Arjuna's fields are long gone; only a fractured planet remains.
     Fortunately, it remains a world of point, a world created by God, a highly purposeful planet.
     Amidst the turmoil, vision and calling prevail.