Make it Megan

Akanesi A. Kulī I don’t even know where to start.

When I first started thinking about having LaVetta participate in this competition, I was honestly intimidated. I really wanted to do it, but I wasn’t completely sure it could be pulled off or even knew where to begin.

You were the one who encouraged me to do it. You answered my questions, helped me figure things out along the way, and somehow made this whole thing feel possible.

And then there’s LaVetta. 🤣 She is absolutely the kind of student who will test every last ounce of patience you have. But you never stopped working with her, encouraging her, and finding ways to bring out the best in her.

You have such a gift for tauʻolunga and for creating beautiful movement. The choreography you gave her was so graceful and carried so much reverence for the art. Watching you teach her the little details, her hands, her expressions, her timing, her movement, made me appreciate even more how much talent and love you have for tauʻolunga.

And it wasn’t only the dancing. You took the time to thoughtfully construct meaningful, poetic introductions for both her teunga and her tauʻolunga, making sure the words carried the meaning, culture, and story behind what she was presenting.

There were many hours sacrificed and miles driven. You gave us so much of your time while raising five kids and caring for a tiny little newborn. There were so many practices, messages, adjustments, and little things you did behind the scenes that most people will never see.

I’m also so grateful for your sister, Leni and sister-in-law. They spent countless hours sewing heilala, helping construct and finish the costume, working through all the little details, and then showing up when it mattered to help support LaVetta, get her dressed, and make sure everything came together.

It feels like there is no way for me to repay everything you’ve done for LaVetta and for me. But luckily, I know you’re as crazy as I am. 😂 So I have a feeling there will eventually be some event, costume, project, or wild idea that gives me the chance to return at least a small part of everything you’ve given us.

We love you and are so grateful for you. 🌺🤍 Thank you for giving LaVetta confidence in her Tongan culture, and for giving me more confidence in mine too. You gave us more than a dance or a competition experience. You helped us feel more connected to something we get to carry with us long after the stage is gone. 🥹🇹🇴🌺❤️

Compete. Connect. Community. 🌺

One of my favorite parts of this experience was watching these girls show that competition and community can exist in the same space.

When LaVetta was scared to go on stage, these two girls were right there encouraging her, comforting her, and cheering her on.

I’m a competitive person, and achievement matters to me. I want my girls to push themselves, work hard, and keep becoming better versions of themselves. But I also want them to know there’s room for both — you can strive to be your best while still being genuinely happy for, encouraging, and supporting the people around you.

I’m so grateful for these girls — and for the moms raising them to understand that.

Especially in our Polynesian community, this is something I hope our girls continue to carry forward.

Community over competition. 🤍🌺

Do it scared. 🤍

Right before it was her turn to go on stage, LaVetta got scared. Really scared. She cried and told me she didn’t know if she could do it.

We talked. Her teacher encouraged her. The girls around her loved on her. And eventually, she walked onto that stage scared and did it anyway.

Then, in the middle of her performance, her music stopped. There were several seconds of silence, and then it started again from the beginning.

A seasoned dancer might know how to handle a moment like that. But she’s seven, on stage competing for the first time. She had to realize what was happening, figure out where she was in her dance, and keep going.

And she did.

Watching her reminded me that courage doesn’t always look like being fearless.

Sometimes you cry. Sometimes you need people around you to remind you that you can do it. Sometimes things don’t go the way you expected once you finally get there.

You can still keep going.

She did it scared and finished strong.

And I couldn’t ask for anything more. 🌺🤍

One flower doesn’t look like much. 🌺

Condition the clay.
Cut each flower.
Make the hole.
Shape every petal by hand.
Bake.
Sew.
Add the beaded center.

Then do it again.

And again.

Until thousands of tiny flowers become the teunga I imagined for my daughter.

I could have chosen a simpler design. One that didn’t require covering nearly every inch in thousands of tiny, handmade heilala. But once I imagined it this way, I knew it was worth the work.

Because this was about creating something for her with my own hands. Something that told a story. Something she could wear knowing that her mom and Aunties spent countless hours making every tiny piece just for her.

Motherhood is funny that way. So much of our love lives in the work no one sees — the late nights, the tiny details, the repetition, the fixing and starting over.

The finished teunga is beautiful to me.

But the thousands of little acts of love that made it? That’s my favorite part. 🌺

Farewell kahoa for my nephew heading to Papua New Guinea 🇵🇬

Nothing says “welcome home” quite like a handmade lei. 🌺❤️

Made this one this morning for my sister-in-law’s brother as he returned home from his mission. There’s something special about creating something with your hands for such a meaningful moment.

Welcome home, Elder!

Dance practice, vacation, waiting rooms… I always have a project in my purse. 🌺😂

Anyone else can’t sit still? 🤦🏽‍♀️

Braved the 104° heat today, and I can’t wait to see how the girls’ baptism photos turned out! ☀️

A huge thank you to my talented friend, , who came prepared with everything from bug spray to cold drinks.

I also made the twins’ kiekie out of yarn. 🧶 Who wants a tutorial?