(Guest posted by Thomas Loving)

I don’t want to tell you the things about my mom that is usually expected at a time like this. I don’t want to tell you her full name was Natalie Noelani Loving or that her maiden name was Higashida. I don’t want to tell you that she was a Social Worker for the state or how she excelled at her work. I don’t want to tell you where or when she was born or what college she attended or what political party she belonged to.

All these things are irrelevant. These things are what my mom was…But I don’t want to tell you what my mom was but rather who she is…and to convey to you who my mom is I can’t tell you what she did for a living or what her education was or what side of the ballot she made her checks and crosses—to give you a glimpse of who she is I need to share some of my memories of her with you.

It isn’t the easiest thing for a boy to grow up with the last name of Loving. There always seems to be kids around who will take that name and make joke after joke at your expense, causing all kinds of embarrassment. The last name of Loving, for a boy, is like wearing a bulls-eye on your back for bullies. So I got into more than my fair share of fights. Which is fine until mom saw some kids picking on me not far from our house one day. She came running out of the house screaming at these kids to leave me alone—this 5’ 2” Hawaiian-Japanese tank was barreling down at these kids and they took off. Of course, what’s worse than a kid named Loving then a kid whose mom fights for you? Nothing! But that’s who she is, my protector and fierce guardian.
She thrives on the Word. She is constantly listening or watching messages by a variety of pastors to grasp insight into the Bible. And she’s a Berean, she scours the Bible for the answers rather than just taking a speaker for the truth.

She quotes scripture to me.

When I was a teenager and my mom was in her mid 40’s, I was trying to figure out the whole relationship thing. I spoke with my mom a lot about how I’m supposed to act and how the whole dating thing worked. And she always seemed to have a rather old-fashioned approach to everything. Guy asks girl out. Guy pays for everything, yada yada yada. And, did I mention, I was an ornery teen, and I liked to prank my mom or embarrass her. So of course one day I start asking her all these sex questions thinking, I’ll make her blush and have a laugh.

“Oh, you know it’s private right?” She said.
“Yeah, but ma, I gotta know something about it sooner or later, don’t I?” I said trying to push her toward embarrassment.
Without skipping a beat she starts to say, “Well your dad and I like—“
“Stop stop stop! I don’t need to know.”

So, laughing she turns my plot around on me and begins to tell me more than I ever wanted to know about the birds and the bees complete with mom and dad illustrations—and I am red as a beet when she’s finished. But that’s who she is, sly as a fox, eager to laugh, always wiling to be frank with her children—not to mention still on fire, passionate about her husband after years and years of marriage.

She sings a lot. In the shower, in the car, browsing in a grocery store, she hums a tune or sings snatches of song to fill the silence. She doesn’t mind the quiet but she prefers music.

I hear her screaming my name from the living room. When I dash into the room I find her standing on chair stamping her feet and pointing frantically at a wall. There on the wall is the largest cane spider I have ever seen in my life. So, big son that I am, I grab a broom from the kitchen and quickly come back to get rid of the menace. As I swing at this thing it leaps from the wall, lands on my broomstick and runs straight down at my face. The only thing going through my head is alien face hugger! Now I’m up on a chair next my mom yelling, stamping my feet and pointing at this crazed spider running around on the floor. Eventually I get down, and, screaming like a little girl, I shush the thing out the door while my mom stands on her chair laughing and yelping every time it lunges at me.

That’s who she is too, vulnerable. She is the first woman I’ve ever felt an overwhelming urge to protect, to shield.

She loves to talk. A lot. She calls me and tells me everything, large and small, that’s going on. Then she calls my wife and repeats and expounds on everything. She loves to talk.

Her favorite phrases included, but are not limited to:
The Lord will provide.
This too shall pass.
Oh, praise the Lord!

Most of the things I’ve shared with you about my mom are silly and possibly a little inappropriate for a celebration of the dead. But I share them with you, and I do it with a smile, because I am confident in Christ and I am confident there’s life after this and I am confident in my mother’s faith in Christ and her renewed life. So, this bit of ash and crushed bone sitting before me is just a token of what she was. Who she is:
loving protector and raging defender,
lover of life and laughter,
gentle spirit of prayer,
soothing voice in the night,
love of my father’s life,
strong supporter,
rock of faith,
sweet song at mid-day,

All these things and more, so much more, are who she is now and forever. I don’t celebrate the dead today—I celebrate the living.

Ivy destroyed it in just under a week. She tore off the doors 1st. Then apparently leaned into the window and tore it. Then came the other window. And in less than an hour she had torn the whole thing apart.

So so so sad. Because I think I loved the whole playhouse more than they did. I bought a vinyl table cloth and replaced the facade with it, but I don’t know how long that is going to last. Not to mention, there was something a little more fun and whimsical about the first one.

Here’s the new one…

I got caught up in the Christmas buying frenzy and thought it would be a good idea to pick up a cap gun (without the caps), badge, and cowboy hat for Kai & Ivy’s dress-up closet. It seemed like all they had were princess dresses and high heels so I thought maybe I should get them something that wasn’t quite so pink and poofy.

Kai loves the gun though when she opened the badge she looked at it, threw it across the room and exclaimed, “I hate that!” Still, the gun and hat were a hit. She has been carrying the gun all over the house with her. And the other day, on the phone I found myself saying something I never would have thought possible. In the middle of talking without even realizing what I was saying, I called out, “Arema Kai Loving put that gun down now! I don’t want to have to ask you again.”

Luckily, it was just Thomas I was talking to, but since I said it without even realizing how it sounded I am starting to wonder now if letting my 3-year-old play with a toy gun might be a bad idea…

Kai has been wanting to discuss Heaven in great detail. She asks lots of questions and is never satisfied that she has learned enough. I think she wants to understand whether or not this place we tell her Tutu went is real.

After discussing how beautiful it is and how wonderful it is she looked me dead in the eye the other night and asked me sweetly, “Mom, in Heaven do they have video games?”

Ah, the important questions in life. I couldn’t find the answer in the Bible. Anyone have a clue?

Okay, so it never was in question really, but I have to say that since he’s been gone I’ve realized how much of a two-person job this is. My hat is off in a big huge way to every single mother out there who raises functional kids and still manages to stay even relatively sane. Heck, if they raise even semi-functional kids and can still pull themselves together enough to go out in public with clean hair and wearing something other than sweatpants I think they deserve a medal.

I haven’t even been able to pull that off this week.

The girls miss their dad so much and I do too. I always have these fantasies of a week where I get the house to myself after the girls go to bed and I don’t have to watch sci-fi movies, put up with War Craft in the living room, or wear my trusty ear plugs to protect my ear drums from the deafening roar of a certain wonderful husband’s snoring. The reality is, I would do anything to be typing this with Thomas playing video games beside me. I wouldn’t even mind if he was snoring in the next room. I miss him and all the ridiculous things that drive me crazy. I know what you’re thinking. He’s only been gone since Wednesday. Give me a break, right? We’ve been married 6 years so having him away for a few days shouldn’t be a big deal. Ordinarily it wouldn’t bother me to be away from him for just a couple of days, but I guess knowing that I’m not going to see him until next Saturday and that we’re going to have to spend New Year’s apart just makes the whole thing seem a bit more sad. Off course, it could also be that I’ve been more than just a little maudlin lately. And it’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it.

Still, the truth is, I love my husband. I miss him. So, Tal, come home soon. I love you…

His music that is. Everyone knows the only man I really totally heart is my favorite Hawaiian in the world, Thomas. Jack Johnson wishes he was as awesome as Thomas. He even said in an interview he didn’t think he should be allowed to share the birthplace of such a dreamy guy as Tal. I mean, who can blame him really?

Come to think of it, I probably love Jack Johnson’s music as much as I do because it reminds me of Tal every time I listen to it…

Okay, back to the music of Jack Johnson. Did you know his new album drops Feb. 5th? Do your ears a big favor and buy it. If you pre-order on iTunes you get a bonus track. Why am I doing a commercial for Jack Johnson, you ask? I’ve loved his music since Brushfire Fairytales and he’s pretty much my number one most favoritest (I know it’s not a word) music artist in the world. And, it’s 3:30 am and it seems even more exciting at this hour.

Anyways, check him out. You’ll love it. I promise.

On a side note, after posting this blog I was reading Jack Johnson’s Bio and saw that he just had a son. He named him Moe which I thought was a pretty cool and unusual name. I thought I’d store it away in my brain as a three letter boy’s name for the future. Until I realized what that name would sound like. Moe Loving. Mo’ Lovin’. Yeah, that had me giggling. It is after all 4:30 am now…

Thomas and I wanted to give the girls a playhouse for Christmas and so we hatched this plan to build one in their playroom. It was a simple thing to do (even though it did take us until about 3:30 am on Christmas morning). But, I am so happy with how it turned out. It’s a bit crooked because someone (me) either measured wrong or Lowes has started cutting their 4′ x 8′ boards a little off. I’m betting on the former rather than the latter. Anyways, I think the crooked look is cool and makes it even more whimsical looking. The rest of it is basically just a drop cloth we painted and cut to have windows and a door. Inside is the kitchen with a little table and chairs and a reading/resting nook for hanging out. For $25 the girls got this cute little house and we can change the facade to fit different seasons, themes or events for only $10. We’re pretty proud of it so I just thought I’d throw the picture up here.

Hard to believe, I know, but this “Chocolate Bread Pudding” was absolutely horrible.

It’s just, lately, I’ve really gotten into baking. It’s therapeutic and it makes me feel better. So, I had a hankering for some chocolate bread pudding and thought I’d just try my hand at making some. This is what happens when I’m alone. And considering how long Thomas is going to be in Hawaii you can probably expect to see a bunch of these posts. Anyways, this particular venture got complicated because I didn’t have all the ingredients. So, I improvised. It tasted even more horrible than it looks and I know that is saying something because it looks really bad.

So, if you ever need a recipe for Chocolate Bread Pudding don’t call me. Unless of course you want to make it for someone you really, really don’t like…

Of course it was a tough Christmas this year. But, it was really important to Thomas that we have a good Christmas for the girls. Natalie would never have wanted us to spend the holiday sitting depressed. It wasn’t easy but we did manage to celebrate with the girls and my family.

The night before Natalie’s passing (Christmas Eve-eve) was one of the best nights we’ve had together as a family in a long time. I’m trying to decide if it was because it genuinely was one of the best or if it just seems that way compared to the sadness of the days immediately following.

Anyways, that night we baked about 5 dozen cookies for no particular reason, ordered pizza and watched “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” while eating in a living room floor picnic. The best part, though, was what you see in the picture above. I was taking care of some last-minute stuff around the house while the girls were drawing at the kitchen table. I left the kitchen for a while and when I came back saw the floor covered in their version of snow. They had torn apart a small composition notebook and thrown the little bits of paper all over the floor. My first instinct was to scold them. But, you know, they were just too darn cute throwing the paper all over the place and yelling, “Snow! Snow! It’s snowing!” So, I grabbed some paper and tore up even more pieces for them to play with. We played in the “snow” for about 30 minutes until Thomas got home with the pizza. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on when he opened the door to our mess, but he quickly joined in the fun adding some of the baking flour to the “snow.” It was fun and a memory I will always cherish just because it was one of the purely spontaneous moments in family life that are so perfect you want to freeze them forever…