Lei Hulu

Lei Hulu o Hoʻokena

The Why Behind the Print

Justin and I went to Hoʻokena School because we wanted to do something fun with the kids.

Father’s Day was coming up, and we thought it would be special to spend time and help them make a small makana to take home for their makuakāne or whoever fills that place in their life.

That was the plan.

Go to the school.
Love on the keiki.
Help them make something.
Send them home with a gift.

But, that day, we left with more than we gave.

After we came home, we kept talking about how it felt, the people who serve there and how it doesn't just feel like just a school.

It feels like a place where our keiki are known. Where the kumu and staff notice them. Where the adults are not only teaching, but holding, guiding, correcting, feeding, comforting, and loving them throughout the day.

And as parents, when you see people care for your children like that, you can’t feel anything but immense gratitude.

For me, Hoʻokena is part of the life I once wanted to run from.

Small town life. Farm life. Picking mac nuts. Picking coffee. Learning early that nothing was handed to you.

Down South, You figure it out. You keep going.

As my dad likes to say - Work is life, and life is work.

And as a kid, I didn’t understand what that life was giving me. I only knew what I wanted to get away from. I wanted bigger. I wanted different.

But now I know better.

The very things I used to despise about it became the things that made me strong.

The grit. The instinct. The way I can feel when something is real and when something isn’t. The way I can read people. The way I know how to work, how to survive, how to keep going.

That was my inheritance before I even had the words for it.

And now, watching our own keiki walk through those same Hoʻokena School doors, I see it differently.

I see the blessing.

I see what it means for them to be raised in a place where people know their name, know their ‘ohana, know when they are hurting, know when they need correcting, and know when they need love.

I see what it means for them to grow up where community is not something people talk about to sound good.

It's something people live.

That day, at the school, stayed with us. So, when we got home, we started reading more about its history, its Aliʻi name, and Wai Wai O’Lina which speaks of a rich inheritance, and, then, everything about this print started to make sense.

Because that is what Hoʻokena is.

Rich, not like money.

Rich like ʻāina.
Rich like kūpuna.
Rich like ocean and fertile soil.
Rich like family names, hard work and stories that still live in a place.
Rich like knowing you belong somewhere.

For a long time, Justin had this lei hulu design sitting with him.

It kept coming back. He would work on it, put it away, bring it back out, and still we never released it.

We loved it, but something was missing.

Now we know what it was.

The story had not found us yet.

Lei hulu is beautiful because it's made with care. Feather by feather. Piece by piece. Slow. Intentional. Each small part placed together, until it becomes something full of honor.

That feels like Hoʻokena to us.

All gathered, together, making something stronger than any one piece could be alone.

And when we think of Aliʻi,

We think of kuleana.

We think of caring for your people.

We think of walking in a way that honors those who came before you.

We think of carrying what was handed to you with pride, and one day passing it forward with love.

That is what we see in the keiki of Hoʻokena.

They may not fully understand it yet. We didn’t either when we were young. But one day, when life brings them back to the places that shaped them, they will know.

And they will remember.

And now we know.

Maybe this design was never waiting for us to finish it.

Maybe it was waiting for the right story to find us.

This month, Lele Hawaiʻi will release Lei Hulu 'o Hoʻokena with a portion of proceeds going back to the School.

This print is our mahalo

Mahalo to Principal Gray, the kumu, the staff, and every person who shows up for these children with patience, love, and heart.

Mahalo for caring for our keiki. Mahalo for caring for all the keiki of Hoʻokena.

Mahalo for reminding me that the place I once wanted to leave, was the place that gave me everything I needed.

And mahalo for helping this story find its way home.