November 1, 2026

Micah 3:5-12
Matthew 23:1-12

Sometimes things happen that make life difficult, and sometimes much too difficult, in the places where someone is. Earlier this summer big storms rolled across our island, and some places, especially in Ka’u, got a lot of damage. People had to pick up and leave their homes, at least for a while. Some of them needed better access to grocery stores and work. Some of them needed to stay somewhere else while their home or workplace was repaired.

All around the world, people move about because it gets too difficult to live where they’ve been, and they need someplace to live that they can manage.

It gets hard in the mountain forests, too. The ohi’a have been suffering a lot from a spreading fungus, and that has meant fewer trees for the birds to rest, nest, and find sustenance in. This one i’iwi, however, had found a grove of trees that was doing much better. The trees weren’t getting sick. They were going through their cycle of flowering, seeding, resting, and flowering again.

The i’iwi was quite confident that she’d found a stand of trees that would endure anything.

Illness isn’t the only problem a tree can have, unfortunately, and it had been very dry on the mountainside for some time. The trees need moisture to produce their flowers, and they need moisture to produce their seeds, and without it they can’t do much but rest. In all the dry weather, the i’iwi and the ‘apapane and the ‘amakihi found fewer and fewer blossoms. It was hard. Their stomachs started to pinch.

This one i’iwi wasn’t worried, however. “This grove will be fine,” she told herself, and being a generous bird, any others who would listen. “It’s a strong grove, a healthy grove. It can support itself and us.”

But the rain wasn’t falling and the grove was drying. The flowers were fading and the trees weren’t making many more.

“Look, this isn’t getting better,” said an ‘amakihi. “We’ve got to find somewhere else that’s received more rain. I’m sure these trees will be okay in the end…”

“Of course they will,” the i’iwi interrupted.

“…But for now we’ve got to find trees with more flowers,” finished the ‘amakihi.

“It’s going to be fine,” insisted the i’iwi. “Everything will be fine.”

The other birds tried to take an optimistic view of things alongside her – she was so earnest about it all – but they also had to acknowledge the real hunger inside them. Fewer flowers meant less nectar, less bugs eating nectar, less food for all of them.

“We’ve got to go,” said an ‘apapane gently one day.

“I’m not going anywhere,” said the i’iwi, and sadly watched her friends fly off in search of flowering trees.

She was hungry. It’s true. She was certain her grove would be fine, but it wasn’t fine at that moment, and it wasn’t getting any better.

“It will be fine,” she told herself.

“Will it?” said a voice. Startled, she looked about to see her friend the ‘amakihi back again.

“Of course it will,” she insisted.

The ‘amakihi asked, “Will it be soon enough for you in your hunger?”

She didn’t know, so she didn’t answer.

“You don’t know, do you?” said the ‘amakihi. “But you couldn’t. That’s not something you can predict.

“It’s fine to tell the truth you believe to others – that’s what beliefs are for. Before you do, take a good look at what you’re telling yourself. Is it real? Is it true? Does it help you live? Don’t lie to yourself, i’iwi. All it will get you is hunger and sorrow.”

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Story

I write these stories in full in advance, but I tell them from memory and improvisation. The story as I wrote it and the story as I told it are not identical.

Photo of an i’iwi by Eric Anderson.