Condolences

2 Corinthians 5:
New Bodies
1 For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands.2 We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing.3 For we will put on heavenly bodies; we will not be spirits without bodies.*
4.While we live in these earthly bodies, we groan and sigh, but it’s not that we want to die and get rid of these bodies that clothe us. Rather, we want to put on our new bodies so that these dying bodies will be swallowed up by life.5 God himself has prepared us for this, and as a guarantee he has given us his Holy Spirit. 6 So we are always confident, even though we know that as long as we live in these bodies we are not at home with the Lord.7 For we live by believing and not by seeing.8 Yes, we are fully confident, and we would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord.9 So whether we are here in this body or away from this body, our goal is to please him.10 For we must all stand before Christ to be judged. We will each receive whatever we deserve for the good or evil we have done in this earthly body.

Condolences to the Kekaula Ohana and close friends.

“When you die, it does not mean that you lose to cancer. You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live.”

-Stuart Scott

I went to college with Robert Kekaula and had him in a few of my classes. Great guy. Sorry for his loss.

Always hard to lose a loved one.

Condolences to Robert Kekaula and his ohana !! R.I.P. pops kekaula. prayer for all the ohana

Prayers and thoughts to the Kekaula Ohana:

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.