Lowell and I recently spent 10 days on Maui. We hadn't been there before, though Lowell grew up on Oahu.

We stayed in Kihei, a coastal sweep of big hotels, condos, souvenir shops, restaurants, and, further along, expensive homes. If you venture inland off Kihei Road where we malihini (newcomers) hang out, you can also see poverty amidst the affluence.

The best overall part of the trip for me was our time with our son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren, William and Sophie. We often had meals together, and the kids mostly beached it.

They bodysurfed, snorkled and played in the sand. When their parents dragged them off the beach, they went to the swimming pool. Ah, paradise.

Each morning I woke up beside an open lanai door, luxuriating as the lovely, moist Maui air wafted over me, listening to the raucous early morning calls of the birds.

Doves cooed, mynahs shrieked and we lay there speculating, "Now, what bird is that?" Lowell knew some of the birds and found a bird book to figure out the ones he didn't.

One evening we went on a dinner cruise. It was a pontoon boat, not a catamaran, and the first exciting moment happened when the pilot backed the boat into the wharf. Everybody laughed -- nervously.

No damage.

We saw mama and baby whales leaping into the air and, rocked by small, powerful waves, enjoyed the sunset over Maalaea Bay.

I am still trying to figure out why what came next was for me the ultimate high moment of the trip.

The meal was so-so -- "No poi," said Lowell -- with music only from Tony, an older guy with wild white hair and a guitar.

This was one month from our 45th wedding anniversary, so when Tony asked for requests, I suggested a lovely lullaby by Iva Kinimaka called "He Aloha Mele." It's old and my tape of it died long ago.

I didn't figure Tony would know it, but hey, why not ask?

Tony remembered every word and sang it beautifully.

It evoked the Hawaii of four decades ago, our own youth, the beginnings of our marriage, and our four young children. I listened with tears streaming from my eyes.

The tears were that breath-taking combination of gratitude for being in Hawaii again, the sound and smell of the sea, my sweet memories, my few regrets and a world of pure joy.

I am simply overwhelmed with the abundance of God's gifts in the sheer beauty of this world. Our trip was an overflowing of grace. And then we came home to the cold glory of an old-fashioned Montana winter. How perfect.

After arriving home, I ordered a CD with "He Aloha Mele." I play it over and over, mostly on a CD player with headphones to avoid driving my dear husband crazy.

"He aloha mele, pretty hoku ... with the sun and the moon talking story, telling tales about a new day, it's gonna be a nice day...."

Joan Uda is a retired United Methodist minister who lives in Lewis and Clark County. Her email address is joan uda@yahoo.com