So it was with delight and some trepidation that I accepted an invitation to sing along with the choir at a Sunday service, directed by “Auntie Nola.” I joined the soprano choristers, who wore formal mu’mu’u dresses in a pattern of green, black and white brightened with sprays of delicate orchid blossoms. It was an opportunity to sing the last queen of Hawai’i’s songs in her own church with people who’d grown up with her music. And the experience profoundly moving — joining together with these beautiful voices to perform the queen’s own songs. It touched me in a way that no amount of reading or writing ever could.