Christmas time in Hawaii is spectacular.

It was Christmas 1993, and whatever we might have missed in snowmen and snow angels and snow-clad pines was made up in the striking red and green floral skirts and leis of the hula ho'iki -- teams of gorgeous, brown men and women and keikis performing the graceful dance of aloha.

It was the first Christmas after the hurricane, just 3 months before. Our island, Kauai, was united; the purpose of the season and the purpose of the hurricane were the same -- joining, appreciation, gratitude, humility -- all different names for love. Some of us had survived the storm with our things -- our homes, our cars, our treasures -- though not many. Some of us survived with our health. As for Brooke and me, it was also the first Christmas since our home was lost in a propane explosion, just 2 weeks before.

Was it the Christmas season this year or the storm that brought the spirit I'd never known as this before? Everything worked remarkably well. I'd barely have a thought or a desire, and the thing desired would turn up immediately. One of two things was happening, I reasoned. Either I had tapped into a remarkable inner power, or someone was with us, looking out for us. If the latter was true, this being could read our minds as though it was his own. Many things happened that were otherwise inexplicable. We were miraculously given a home -- a large room/suite in a hotel for an indefinite period of time. No matter how large or small the need, each and every one was met. Some of the miracles, as we'd begun calling them, were so remarkable that they literally knocked us over. Some of them were very small and yet made a huge difference in our lives.

Tonight, in my mountain cabin in Santa Cruz, California I pulled out our old Christmas ornaments to decorate my tree. I fondly held a box of home-made styrofoam balls, decorated with bits of Hawaiian pastels from that year and was reminded of the smallest miracle of that Christmas, and yet one that made an enormous difference to us.

We hadn't the money for sufficient food that year, never mind a Christmas tree. I had received a rather annoying call from the guard of a warehouse who had stored our few belongings that remained after the hurricane and fire. He demanded that we come to the warehouse within a couple of days and rearrange our things so that other peoples' belongings could be stored there as well. I had no car to drive there, and no money to pay someone to take me. One miracle led to another miracle and so on. A ride was provided each direction by different people at exactly the right time. I knew by the timing of it all that our angel was at hand. At the warehouse, we compressed our things into a corner of the room, as directed, when I spied what appeared to be a small artificial Christmas tree tucked away under a cot piled high with boxes. I asked the guard if we could use the tree. His usual grumpy attitude turned to one of helpful delight. He went to work to un-bury it for us. Maybe we didn't have gifts, but at least we had a tree to remind us that better times were possible. The guard told us to stop by a particular office in town, and see if they could assist us. On our way back to our hotel, we did so. We arrived at this charitable organization just in time for their board of directors to include us in their meeting to select families for their holiday project. While we waited, they met. We were given $500 cash for Christmas. Our ride dropped us off at the mall. We bought some lights and some styrofoam balls and pastel bits of fabric. That night we would make Christmas ornaments for our little borrowed tree, and wrap the gifts we'd purchased in secrecy for each other and have an abundant supper. But for now, we sat in the center of the open-air mall with our little tree by our side. When most mothers and teenage daughters in our society argued and slammed doors at each other, Brooke and I were given the most precious of gifts. Through natural disasters, we were given aloha, bringing holiness to our relationship. As we held hands, we were swept away with joy and well-being with the most beautiful Christmas hula.

---© Glenna Heller