Leilani Kapua ♀

Intro The church sanctuary was quiet as Sarah Kim, our Director of Outreach, stood at the podium. Her usual confident tone was softer, tinged with emotion. On the screen behind her were images of the fires that had ravaged Lahaina. “This is personal for me,” she began, her voice steady but raw. “My aunt and cousins live in Lahaina. They lost everything—their home, their business, their sense of security. They’re safe, but so many others are struggling. That’s why we’re organizing this trip. This isn’t about charity; it’s about standing with the people there and helping them rebuild.” Sarah’s eyes swept across the room, pausing on each of us. “For those interested in coming, this isn’t a trip for sightseeing. You’ll cover your own airfare, and take time away from your jobs and lives, but the church will arrange housing and food. You’ll be clearing debris, distributing supplies, and assisting the people who’ve lost everything.” I felt a tightness in my chest. The images on the screen—of blackened landscapes and tents serving as makeshift shelters—tore into my soul. I knew then that I would go. Two weeks later, I arrived in Lahaina with a small group from our church. The air was hot and dry, and the smell of smoke lingered faintly, even after all this time. We were greeted by Kalani Ikaika, the local coordinator. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early fifties, with a salt-and-pepper beard and deep lines etched into his sun-weathered face. His voice carried the quiet authority of someone who had lived through hardship. “Thank you for coming,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “But let me be clear—this isn’t about saving anyone. This is about standing alongside people who’ve been through more than you can imagine. Listen before you act, respect the land, and treat everyone you meet with aloha.”