Same Day. Same Time. Different Lives.

At 12.51pm today I was in the exact same place I was at the same time, this day last year.
Just me and Alice home alone. I sat on my couch in the same spot that I sat down at 12.45 last year with a cup of coffee in my hand and my laptop on my knee.
Unless you have experienced an earthquake of sizeable magnitude, you cannot in any way understand the absolute terror at the moment the shaking hits.

I don't want to forget those moments ever. I heard the boom in the east. I remember looking out the window towards the sea and wondering if this aftershock would be very big. Now, in hindsight, I think that boom must have been the quake hitting the city centre. It always took a few seconds to reach us out at North Canterbury.

For the first time in my life, I was struck with a moment of indecision in an emergency. With the walls shaking, the doors rattling, and the windows buckling, I didn't know what to do. I just stood there in my dining room listening and watching as though suspended in time, as my house was straining, rocking and rolling and I didn't know what to do. I remember unlocking the door and pushing it open. Then I ran to Alice's room and scooped her up out of her cot and ran outside.

Did you know that in a survival crisis, your bladder starts to work overtime. Everyone says this happened to them that day. I remember needing to go to the bathroom, but not wanting to leave the living room in case there was another one. But you no sooner go and your having to go again.

I remember the phone call from Rob. He sounded emotional. He said there were buildings down. I went to get my kids from school. Meredith was crying. The boys were relieved to see me. I remember telling Theodore's teacher, "my husband said there are buildings down." We came home and watched John Campbell for the rest of the day, fielding phone calls from friends and family, texts, and neighbours calling in.

Everytime there was an aftershock, one of my children dived under the bench. In the end, there were so many coming that they just stayed under there.


What has changed for me? How is my life different now to what it was a year ago? Sure, I'm living in a different part of New Zealand now, but it's not the obvious things that make the difference. It's the little things.

I think I am more aware of natural disasters. Something like this heightens your sensitivity to your environment and causes you to reasses every location on a human survival level.
Today has been an emotional day. Remembering the poignant moments of a year ago. Feeling sad. Feeling grateful. Telling those who are important to me that I love them. That's what something like this earthquake does. It makes you scared. It makes you feel vulnerable. It changes your life forever. But it makes your heart bigger too.

Remembering February 22

With the one year memorial approaching of the devastating Christchurch earthquake, I have been thinking of how we as a family can mark it.
No matter where you were, or what you were doing in Christchurch that day, everyone was impacted by the 12.51pm earthquake. It's something that we will remember for the rest of our lives, something that has changed us, and changed our world view, for the rest of our lives.

Now that we are no longer living in Canterbury, I want our family to remember what we went through that day. To remember God's mercy on us that He spared us, not just from death and injury, but from seeing death and injury to others too. Rob was probably the one who came closest to seeing that when he emerged from his building and saw the shattered remains and dust of the PGC Building, just along from his office.
 My children were just stepping off a school bus after returning from a swimming tournament. Meredith who had been quite traumatised by the September earthquake, found that in a crisis; that moment of danger, she had the courage to look after and comfort her friend on the bus who was very traumatised and panic-stricken, as the bus swayed and bounced. As my son described it, he said it felt like the naughty boys in the back were jumping up and down.

How grateful I am that they weren't still at the swimming complex, which was closed for months afterwards due to damage. How grateful I am that the elevator tower next to Robin's office didn't collapse on top of them. How grateful I am that I decided not to go in to the Art's Centre that day to my favourite quilt shop, but instead stayed home to make tomato soup.

I would like, every year, for us all to remember that day, to be thankful, to remember what we went through. I have been thinking about how to do this.

I think we will have a special 'thankfulness' meal at night. Maybe tomato soup should play a role in that as my way of remembering that day. I will be texting my husband and close friends at 12.51pm to mark the moment the earthquake struck, as that is what most of Christchurch tried to do at that time, trying to reach loved ones, not knowing if they had survived or not. I will never forget those horrible moments of uncertainty, just waiting for the phone to ring, or for him to answer.

I have also created online, and ordered 6 of these buttons.
I want us to wear them or display them on February 22.

Merry Christmas Christchurch

My list of things to do yesterday seem pathetic this morning. I only managed to get about 4 things done, because we were yet again plunged into survival mode again at 2pm yesterday afternoon.

It was weird because at 1.30 after putting Alice to bed for her sleep I was walking down the hallway when I stopped suddenly because I heard a strange noise. A long, low rumble that wasn't quite the same sound as an airplane flying low overhead. I stopped to wait to see if there was any shaking, but there wasn't, so I just shrugged it off and carried on with my tasks. Then at 2 minutes to 2 o'çlock, as my son was opening the garage door to go outside, and I was about to turn the gas on to make my raspberry cordial, we heard the rumble, then the roar, then the shaking. So what was that rumble at 1.30? A pre-tremor warning of some sort? I don't know. I do know that at 1.30 that sound made me pause and I actually considered phoning my husband at work to tell him to leave his office early, if he could.

It has been several months since I felt a shake. We were all hoping, here in Christchurch, that it was over. As the house rattled and rolled, I could hear Alice crying in her cot down the hallway, and I had to run to get her. In all these emergency situations, as a christian, I am so glad that my instinct is to call out to God. I just do it without thinking. That's a good thing, you know, for my faith. I'm glad that my sub-consciousness turns to God in emergencies.

The quake was strong enough to worry me about my husband in his 6 storied office building in the city. My daughter was also away, playing with her best friend in a suburb that has been very badly hit by the previous quakes. A house that has been thrown up and dropped and sunken. In their dining room, you can walk uphill from one corner and into the kitchen. So I was worried about her. They had been planning to go to the beach for the afternoon and I just hoped that they were already there. It turns out they weren't, but they were ok and spent the rest of the afternoon outside.

I couldn't get hold of my husband for a long time. The phone lines were down, but the worst thing was that his cell phone was ringing, but there was no reply. Finally, I got through and heard that he was out of the building and on his way home.
Then my brother-in-law, my husband's big brother, phoned to see if we were ok, and I struggled to keep the tears back. It was so nice to talk to a family member, I was relieved that Rob was ok, and that first half hour or so after the quakes is the worst, because you're usually on your own for awhile before you start hearing from other people.

Then the texts start coming in from friends and family and the phone calls, and the nicest part was having our neighbours call in for coffee and an earthquake de-briefing as they have done with every other major shake before. It's becoming a tradition with us, you know. 

But it won't ruin our Christmas. We're all safe. We have a good, strong house. I won't be going into the city for my haircut this morning - don't even know if they'll be open and I don't think I have the nerves to be trapped in a chair in a salon I was nervous to be in, even when things were calm. I haven't quite finished my Christmas shopping, but I can always pop down to our local shops, if they're open.

Merry Christmas Christchurch. We are learning to be strong. We are learning to love and appreciate life and each other.

Unkindness

Well, I feel cross enough about this to post about it

Here's a way to kick a man city when it's down.

Mean-spirited and small-minded are the first words that come to mind.

Read about how London's Box Park are threatening to sue crippled Christchurch because we are forced to have our demolished city shops in shipping containers - not like we have any choice there.

And it's not like 27 shops in Christchurch are any threat to a shopping mall in London, for goodness sake!

Ok. Rant over.

One Year

Today is just like it was this same day last year.
Same day. Same place. Same people. Same weather.
Not the same event.

Beautiful, bright, sunny day. Warm. The weekend.

Only this time we weren't jolted awake in the middle of the night.

Although we were two nights ago, and it was an almost dejavu moment.

One year on from the 30 seconds that changed our lives. One year of living with earthquakes.
One year of sending your family out in the world everyday and making sure that cellphones are fully charged.
Being sure that before that door closes behind them, you've told them you love them.
Being sure that before you hang up the phone on them you tell them you love them.

Just in case the worst happens.
It's our new reality.

Earthquakes have taught us . . .

. . .  not to take life, or each other for granted.

You can never appreciate that; never really know what that means until it is threatened.
 

Yesterday

It was quite the day. When the first earthquake hit at 1pm, I was in the laundry, putting another load of washing on. The dryer was going, so I didn't hear the rumble. But I stumbled on my feet as I walked out into the hallway, realising at the same time that the house was rocking. So many things happen in those few seconds that your senses go into overload. Looking back on it moments later you realize that your entire being is viewing the quake using all five of the senses, so you remember it through each one.

 Photo Source Here

I actually didn't think the 5.5 was that bad - partly because I was in the laundry and missed the first part of it. So I phoned Robin at work to check he was ok, and then I just carried on with my ironing and watching Our Mutual Friend while doing it. Alice slept on. The phone rang an hour later and it was Theodore's teacher to tell me that the school had decided to close and the children were being collected.

A quick mental check of the neighbourhood told me that all available friends were either out, at work or collecting their own children from other schools. So I woke Alice (I hate doing that) and drove down to the school. They were all out in the playground. Nobody seemed particularly worried. I had a few words with the teachers (they're all so nice). Meredith had to go back into her classroom to get her backpack with me. We saw the sports cupboard doors had burst open and all the gym equipment lying in a mess on the floor. Hugh said a boy had fallen off the playground equipment during the quake and hurt himself. They were all outside on their lunch break when it happened.

The next big one - the 6.0 happened as we reached the gates of the school. It was my first time experiencing a quake outside of my own home. We were walking towards the gates, Theodore lagging behind. I remember turning to check he was following me and not getting distracted with his friends (he was begging me to take home half the children in his class - it took some explaining to tell him if I did that their mothers would worry), when I remember hearing a rushing sound, like a train in the distance, or like a freak gust of wind blowing. Only there was no wind. It was a still, sunny, warm winter's day. It's amazing how long it takes the mind to click in to what is going on. Hearing that noise, turning quickly to see children running, screaming into the grassy field away from the buildings and trees. Seeing Theodore run towards the field, crouching with his arms over the back of his head. Meredith told me later I gripped her shoulder so hard it hurt. And I remember Hugh saying, "it's another one."

Then I was transfixed - in those few seconds - on the 100 year old oak trees waving above my head. You might think it looked like wind blowing through their branches but it wasn't like that at all. The trees were moving from the ground upwards, and the way they moved was so completely unnatural that I couldn't focus on anything else.

I remember my feet feeling unsure on the ground. And the pavement moving underneath my heeled boots, and having to take a few steps to steady myself and Alice, whom I was carrying.

I think I said, "it's ok, it's ok. Just stay here with me," to the kids over and over.

Then it stopped. We walked to the car and I suddenly remembered my husband in his four-storied office building in the city. I found my cellphone, dialed and got no dialtone on the other end. Try again. Again. Pulled out to drive home. We have a new law here that you can't phone while driving, so I gave the phone to Hugh and got him to call. Nothing. Halfway home I took the phone off him and dialed myself.

Extenuating circumstances.

Robin finally answered - three words. "I'm on my way home."
"Now? Right now?"
"Yes."

Only then could I relax. Everyone in my immediate family was accounted for and safe.
The children are home from school today. Robin had to go back to work, but went in late. I'm still not happy about him having to go back there. I want him to find a job out here.

Inside The Forbidden City

Yesterday my husband's office was allowed access to their red-stickered building in the heart of Christchurch city.

He volunteered to go in and help retrieve important items, like the Father's Day gift the children gave him last year (a cup with disappearing photos), his umbrella and his new glasses case, as well as a long list of items from his colleagues. It read a bit like this.... "in the second drawer down, in the back on the right is....." They were given 3 hours to get what they needed out of there, as well as files and computers and other work-related items. They are not sure what is going to happen to their building. It has no visible damage, but the building next to it has a very precarious lift tower which could collapse on top of their office building. And the ground under the buildings is pretty torn up. It's situated very close to the Avon River which pretty much undermined all the ground around it during the Quake. You see, our ancestors built the city on marshy, reclaimed ground back in the early 1800's. I guess they didn't know about the faultlines then.

The event of going into the forbidden parts of the city was a highly orchestrated event, according to Robin. Security checks, photo identification and an escorted drive through the area to their building where they were accompanied by Recovery Staff into their office. The first thing that struck Robin was the silence.

Absolute quiet as they stepped out of the cars. No people, no cars, no noise.

He described going into the office like visiting a ghost town, and it had a musty, mouldy, dank smell inside. In the staffroom books were open on the table, a newspaper lay like someone had just left it just for a moment. A lunchbag, biscuits open in the middle of the table. Coffee grounds in the coffee machine had gone mouldy. Food from the fridge had spilled out onto the floor. A loaf of bread, newly bought on the day lay perfectly intact, except for the mould growing inside it.

 Here is my husband's desk. See all those rows of files in the back - that's where he sat, and those filing cabinets are what he had to climb over to get to the door after the earthquake stopped.

 This was the filing room. All those large cabinets were bolted to the floor and had bracing. They had aisles between them for the clerical staff to stand and file - as you can see the quake has thrown them off their bracings and they have fallen into each other. It is a miracle that no-one was in there at the time.

The office floor . . .

And this is the reason why it is dangerous to go back into their building . . . the precarious lift tower next to their office . . .

 

Every day I am grateful to God that the tower didn't fall onto my husband's office in the big quake, and that they all got out ok. His desk was right under it on that side.

Quiet Morning

In these days of uncertainty - tragedy, unrest, chaos, concern for what the future holds, I find myself thinking of comforting things - old familiar things, beloved people, music that brings back good memories, food that warms my body, God's greatness and mercy reflected in the morning sky.

This is what I've been thinking of this morning.

Loved old friends from my youth who love me and who I love, and who I am privileged to share this life with. We went through a lot together in foreign parts.

Thinking of old beloved songs and singers, and drinking hot milo with marshmellows.

For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.

Isaiah 41:13

In Any Language

Because we are all getting to know all about earthquakes - just in the last few days we've heard of them not only here in New Zealand but in Japan, Papua New Guinea, China, Indonesia, Chile. So because we don't know where the next one will be, and they seem to be all over the show at the moment, I thought it might be appropriate to learn how to say earthquake in a few languages.

地震 - Japanese

Terremoto - Spanish

Землетрясение - Russian

Tremblement de terre - French

Aardbeving - Dutch

Erdbeben - German



σεισμό - Greek

Deprem - Turkish

Jordbävning - Swedish

地震 - Chinese

My City of Ruins

These are the worst of times . . . and the worst of times.

The other night - a beautiful night, I stood out in our garden and looked towards the city. Towards the Port Hills. There was a low cloud of white hanging over the city, and it glowed a soft orangey/red. It wasn't the normal glow of lights we usually see at night. It was an ominous, thick light - of dimmed lights and linguring smoke.

My city of ruins. The city of my great, great-grandparents. Those courageous people who walked over the Bridle Path with all their worldly goods, their faith, their strength, their fortitude, their hopes of a better future for their descendants.
Martha, Henry, Sarah-Anne, Robert.

There's something rather special about living in the same place where your forefather's settled as pioneers. It's a connection with the land, a sense of belonging in the history of the place, the pride in the buildings they built, the churches they worshipped in, the roads they travelled down. The cemetaries where their bones are buried.

We feel that connection right now as our city suffers. I can't watch the news for very long now. The stories are too heart-breaking, too sad. My husband is off work. His building has been red-stickered ( too dangerous to enter). We're not sure if that's because of the high-rise next to it being rather precarious and has the potential to fall over, or if there is structural damage. Whatever the reason, his work will be looking for alternative office space, I am sure. We grieve and pray for one his colleagues who lost her fiancee in the CTV building.

We are being battered by extraordinary winds today - any extreme weather now has the potential to set your heart racing, and the lines on our foreheads to wrinkle. I am too scared to go shopping. Online shopping has become my best friend. Our house has little damage - just superficial cracks in the plaster outside, so I just want to stay home and not leave the area.

We did do some baking for the amazing people organizing the Rangiora Earthquake Express. I felt it was a good exercise for the children, and they enjoyed taking it down to the racecourse and seeing the helicopters. I wonder who ate our pies and bread that night? The NZ Gardener free labels came in very handy for quick labelling of the food.
Robin took the photos - I think the camera must have accidentally got knocked to another setting, so the light is a bit bright.

It's hard to think of anything else right now, except the earthquake. I keep wondering about the girl I sat next to on the plane when we flew up to Auckland. She was so nervous about flying, twisting some paper around and around in her fingers for the entire flight. I was nervous too (I am not a good flyer), and it helped me to talk to her and distract her and talk of funny things. I don't know what her name is. All I know is that she worked in the Glassons store in Cashel Mall - the place where most of the buildings collapsed and alot of people were killed. I hope she is ok. Another friend wonders about a little Japanese man who owned a restaurant in Chancery Lane. She used to say hello to him everyday. Is he ok?

Events like this change you. I think I said that after the last earthquake. But they do. Like it or not, our outlook on life has altered dramatically. Someone mentioned this on talkback radio yesterday too, and Robin and I were discussing together how this will impact on our children and their world view. I think that the children who survived these earthquakes, saw these earthquakes and the aftermath will grow up with a greater sense of what is important in this life. That worldy possessions and financial gain are as nothing compared to life and people you love and who love you.

That is the one positive thing that I think all Cantabrians will take from this trauma.

Now with these hands
I pray Lord
for the strength Lord
for the faith Lord

(My City of Ruins - Bruce Springsteen)

Headlines Around The World

This morning I thought it would be kind of interesting to see what newspapers around the world are saying about our earthquake. We've seen some interesting tv coverage from other parts of the world. Mostly England, Australia and the USA. I find it fascinating to hear what the rest of the world says about your own country, and it also gives quite big clues as to the cultural differences and perspective that, even in another western country, can be quite different from your own.

It has been wonderful to see how the world has rallied and sent help. We have rescue workers in the city from Australia, Japan, Taiwan, Singapore, USA, England, and so many other places. It really is nice to know that in a crisis other countries are thinking of you and wanting to do all they can to help.

Here are some of the world headlines three days after the event . . .


'A Brick by Brick Search' Sydney Morning Herald

'Outlook is Grim in Hunt for Survivors of New Zealand Quake' New York Times

'Two Britons Among 98 Killed in Christchurch Quake' The Times (London)

'Frantic Hunt as NZ Quake Leaves 400 Dead, Missing' Mail & Guardian Online (South Africa) This was a really well-written article.

'Rescuers Brave Aftershocks to Find Survivors' The Scotsman (Scotland)

'New Zealanders Dazed and Exhausted By Second Big Quake' Chicago Tribune
I found this same article in the LA Times as well. I have to admit I did do a bit of a chuckle at the style of writing. It's the sort of style my Fifth Form English teacher would have marked, "too over-descriptive, and too many similies".  Here's a sample:

"Look at that place," said Straight, wearing a sweat-stained bush hat, his white beard in the shape of a locomotive cowcatcher."
The writer said that a house was 'cocked to one side like it was throwing a hip check'.

Interesting stuff. And while some articles were headlines, and some were buried way into the depths of the paper, it's great to see that the world knows of our plight and is thinking of us.

Guilt

Lying in bed at night - eyes wide open - lying on your back so you can hear with both ears . . . waiting for it.

Watching tv . . . then having to mute the sound . . . is it a plane going over . . . or is it another one?

Putting off having a shower . . . in case one happens while you're in there.

Climbing over mattresses to open the windows in the morning . . . because the kids are all sleeping together.


When we arrived in Auckland back in January, my brother-in-law had parked in a multi-storied car park. I remember saying at the time, "it's ok - I can walk under here and not worry about it. I'm in Auckland. Not Christchurch." I have avoided multi-leveled car parks since the first earthquake. I once drove around an outside carpark for 10 minutes waiting for a park just so I didn't have to go into the 4-storied one.

Actually, we are feeling guilty here in North Canterbury. My husband had a close shave in his office, and who knows when he'll be back at work. There is now danger of the building next to his falling down on top. Everyday I am thankful that he made it out. I look at him and think that it could be him trapped in those buildings. When the kids are fighting over little pieces of Lego I remind them how blessed they are.

But other than our close shave we are carrying on as much as we ever did, except the tv is on all day, and we can't stay away from the internet. We have power. We have fresh, clean water. We're lucky that we have a bed to sleep in at night, a shower that works, a tv, and a family who are all together without the worry of someone missing.

We have a spare room, but our friends and family prefer to stay in their homes because of the danger of looters. Can you believe there are people in this city who are doing that! Unbelievable! I am always astonished at the depravity of a small minority of people in circumstances like this.

You suddenly realise that you've survived a terribly traumatic event. When it happened on Tuesday I had just sat down for a cup of coffee after spending the morning making tomato soup. I heard a distant rumble and thought it must be just another little aftershock happening - until the noise of the house rattling violently made me realise in that split second that it was a big one. I was home alone with Alice asleep at the other end of the house. I was actually confused as to what to do - the windows sounded like they were about to pop, and I remember looking up at the ceiling, and I didn't know if I had time to go and get her. I thought to open the outside door first so I had a means of escape if the worst occured and then I ran down the hallway to get Alice. By the time I got back it was subsiding. Then I realised that my heart was racing, I was breathing heavily like I'd just run a marathon and my whole body was shaking. Alice clung to my neck.

The worst thing was not knowing what was happening in the city. It was a big shake out here, so I knew it had to be catastrophic in there. I was terribly worried about Robin. His office on the first floor was already a big dodgy after the last quake and the quickest way out of there was two flights of stairs.

Then I began worrying about a good friend who works in the square. I was texting all over the place "R U OK?" I was pretty sure that it wouldn't take long for the phone lines to get blocked up. Then my phone rang. It was Robin. He was ok. He was very shaken and actually couldn't talk much except to say he was ok and that buildings around him had collapsed. He said he had to go back in for the car keys.

Then I began to worry about the kids. I knew they were ok - at school on their lunch break, so they would be outside, but Hugh and Meredith had been at swimming sports in Kaiapoi for the morning. Kaiapoi was one of the areas massively affected by the last quake and the pool had only been opened again for a little while. What if they had been delayed in getting back?

Alice and I raced down to the school. Amazingly everything looked just the same. After an event like that it's always funny, and kind of reassuring to find normal things going on still. I remember seeing a farm sprinkler working, and some builders backing a truck into their work site. People were out driving. Everything looked just the same. Even at the school. Except as I pulled up so did some other mums. Running to the playground. Some mothers were crying. Some kids were crying. Some of the teachers had upset children in their laps, arms around them, comforting them. Hugh's pregnant teacher was crying. Composed, but upset.

I got the children home and we were glued to the tv, and replying to texts and emails all afternoon letting people know we were ok, checking on friends and family who we hadn't heard from. Neighbours calling in. My friend who works in the square finally text me. She was ok. She'd been out on her lunchbreak. She hadn't wanted to text me, because she'd walked past Robin's street and had seen the devastation and didn't want to worry me if I hadn't heard from him.

We are so very blessed. So very thankful for our safety when so many are not.

We feel a little of the survivor's guilt. The kids are playing, taking naps. I'm baking for my brother-in-law and his family who are coming out this afternoon for showers, food and water. I've got washing hanging on the line. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, a soft breeze is blowing in my open, undamaged door and I can see the cows in the paddock flicking their tales idly in the afternoon heat. I have a spare bathroom and an empty spare room. I feel guilty about that.

It's incredible to think that just across the river so much chaos and heartbreak and sorrow is happening.

Here We Go Again

Just wanted to let you all know that we are ok. The earthquake has been devastating, but we are very blessed to be living in North Canterbury on clay soil. I will never ever complain about clay soil again!

My husband Robin had a close shave in his city office. He dived under his desk and expected the building to collapse. He managed to clear a path of filing cabinets and tables and debris to get him and his coworkers out of the building. The stairwell was pitch black, he said, in spite of it being in the middle of the day. And then he had to go back in to fetch his car keys!

I was mostly worried about him, as I knew the children were on their lunch break and this part of Christchurch where we live does seem to fare well in the quakes. I was so thankful when he managed to get through on the phone to say he was ok, though traumatised.

Our thoughts and prayers tonight are with those people trapped and their families. It is cold and raining here tonight. God speed the rescuers.

Life Changing Events

It's a month since the Earthquake and we are still dealing with one of our children who is more than a little traumatized. My husband Robin and I were talking about this yesterday and how we are going to best help this child through it.  There are many different approaches to this.

At first I took the approach of, well - we now know what it feels like to be in a large earthquake. If it ever happens again in your lifetime, kids - you'll now exactly what to do, won't you? Then taking them through the whole escape plan thing - trying to down-play the fear - putting the power back into their hands.
This approach worked well for two of my children.

The other approach was to read the children from The Listener how one geologist said that it all depends what type of soil your house is built on, as to how your house will cope in an earth-shattering event. He suggested digging a hole a metre deep next to your house to have a look. If it's sandy, or loamy, or silty - then you could be in trouble. If it's rock, or stone or clay, then you should be ok. That little lessen resulted in three of my children digging a very large hole in the back yard - and proving to us all that we have a difficult time growing a garden because we have very stony, clay soil. But that's good in an earthquake, right!

But still, one of my children has a hard time at night. I think it's because the main earthquake came as such a surprise when we were all tucked up in a place which you connect with security and safety, but also a place where you are at your most vulnerable. Bed. And because we often seem to get the largest aftershocks late at night or early in the morning - or so it seems. Perhaps it's just because we're not moving around, busy doing this and that, and you notice them more, because you're resting.

So . . . what to do? I don't know. We're just giving lots of reassurance, lots of walking around the house checking things, pointing out that the roof is strong, that the house is strong, lots of sleeping on the floor in our room or with other siblings.

Robin and I talked about the 'worst case scenario' thing and whether that would be a good approach with this child. But I don't think so. It doesn't work for me - in fact it makes things worse for me, because sometimes the worst case can happen. It's not impossible. And I don't think this child would find it helpful. In the middle of last night this child's Dad said, "the roof is not going to fall down." And the child answered, "but how do you know that for sure?" No. I don't think the worst-case scenario would be a good idea.

It's funny how these dramatic, once-in-a-lifetime events can change your whole entire outlook on the world, on your world, on how you approach things. Unless you have been through a life-threatening event, it's difficult for anyone to understand it. The fear with the earthquake is that it will happen again. The worst-case scenario with that is that the roof will collapse on top of you. So you start thinking about that and wondering if it happened again, will the roof hold? Will I be somewhere safe?

This is the first real, life-threatening event that my husband has been through in his lifetime. Sure, he's been through some traumatic times, losing his mother and father while reasonably young, having a child in medical danger, and other events, but nothing in which his life was threatened or his well-being. He and I have often laughed at my pessimistic view on some things, but I have always said to him that my worst-case scenario/overactive imagination might one day save his life. I've been telling him that if another big earthquake comes when he is at the office - on the second story of a 3 story building, to get outside, not under his desk. It would be better to risk falling into a land fissure than having the third story come tumbling down on you while curled up under a flimsy office desk. It has got him thinking, and talking with some of his colleagues. What do you think? If outside access is easy, and quick, what would you do?

This is my third life-altering experience, and suddenly I start to recognize the same symptoms in my husband and children. And it is like a light has gone on in my husband as to why I react the way I do in certain circumstances. Why I am afraid of flying. Why I am paranoid about losing my baby in the first 3-4 months of pregnancy. Why I always think worst-case scenario. It's probably a case of post-traumatic stress syndrome, but then so many other people go through so many worse experiences. I can deal with the trauma, recognize it for what it is and learn to live with it as part of my life experience, and lessons God has seen fit to bring along my way. It's recognizing a vulnerability in yourself. An awareness of your mortality and the mortality of everything around you. Nothing lasts forever - and learning to embrace the joy and pleasures and security, and life of today and taking no thought (seriously) of tomorrow or what might come.

For me, the three life changing events I have experienced have taught me that every day is precious.
Every human encounter is interesting.
Every person on this earth has struggles.
Every life is is beautiful.
Every moment of life is priceless.
Joy can be found everyday.
Make the most of all experiences.
Pleasure is even in the midst of the mundane.
Learning to live without regret.

Venturing Outside The Gate

It has been nearly 2 weeks since the Big E. And it has been nearly 2 weeks since I ventured into the city. I just really would rather not. That's all.

But today I had to, and my husband also invited me to meet him in a city cafe for a coffee. It's not often I get to do that without four kids in tow. But I told him I wasn't going to walk up the two flights of stairs to visit his colleagues in the office. No way. Especially not after he told me that the floor now creaks when someone walks over it.

But guess what?
I did. I swallowed my fear - sort of.
And there wasn't an earthquake, and I enjoyed chatting to some of Robin's colleagues in the office.
Hi Stephanie!

But I did take my camera with me, and I tried not to look like a 'rubber-necker' or an earthquake tourist.

Poor Christchurch. Poor battered Christchurch. That is what was going through my mind.

The Oxford Street Baptist Church. Across the corner from where Robin works. We've been here for a wedding. And look at the date on the facade. My ancestors probably went here for weddings too.

It looks like they're trying to do some work on it already.

And here is the Repertory Theatre. I'm particularly sad about this. I don't know how many times I've been in this building to do ballet rehearsals and performances with Meredith. It's such a beautiful theatre and quaint and old fashioned with its red vinyl seats and pink-painted ornate plaster 'boxes' inside. I think they're going to restore it though, which is happy news. See that second story? That's where we applied makeup, changed into costumes and did Angelina Ballerina colouring in while the little girls waited for their stage entrance.

It's a bit chaotic on the roads in the city - lots of diversions and areas cordoned off that are off limits. Also, I lost count on how many tradesmen vans I spotted. Business is booming for the tradesmen, I can tell you that! Lots of scaffolding.

Lots of houses with the chimneys missing.

I liked this sign.

This is for my American friends - it's right in the city - can you guess what it is?

All the way from New York - a memorial of the Twin Towers and the September 11 tragedy.

I also liked this. Blossom in the City.

Daffys.

I also really liked coming home again.

Some Things I've Learned from the Earthquake

Sometimes an overactive imagination can make you focus on the negative.
Years ago someone I knew tried to teach me to think of the positive things when you were in a bad situation. It never really took off, but I do try.
Here's what I've learned from the last week of the earth moving under my feet.

1. In an earthquake with a magnitude of 7.1 it's better to get under a table or something solid, or get outside, rather than stand in a doorway. A friend of ours admitted to running outside in his underwear on the night of the earthquake and meeting all the neighbours. That made me laugh.

2. In an earthquake with a magnitude of 7.1, I guess it doesn't matter if your neighbours see you in your nightwear.

3. The human need for sleep can sometimes overwhelm your fear of earthquakes.

4. In spite of large, horrible random earthquakes, New Zealand is a great place to live. Way better than, say.... Haiti.

5. I think it's marvelous that the city has worked night and day to get the waterworks going again without contamination, in less than a week since the Big One.

6. Before the earthquake I felt indifferent towards the city mayor, Bob Parker. Now I think he's marvelous. He made me feel calm many times when I didn't want to feel calm.

6. I'm grateful that I live in the countryside, and that we chose to build on old river bed stones, and not sandy beaches.

7. Sometimes an overactive imagination can save your life. I will not build on hills, because I'm afraid of landslides. I will not build near large rivers because I'm afraid of floods. I will not build on the ocean, because I'm afraid of tsunamis. Now I will not build near the beach because I'm afraid of earthquakes tearing my house in two.

8. When the shops sell out of bread, it's good to know how to make your own. Thank you Rhonda!

9. In a time of crisis, it's interesting to note who of your friends and family check up on you, and who does not.

10. If you're standing on a tile floor when an aftershock happens, you hear it but you don't feel it.

11. You learn alot about yourself and how you react in emergencies.

12. The rumble of an earthquake sounds almost exactly like an airplane flying low overhead.

13. We live under the flight path. I guess it's going to take awhile for my stomach to stop lurching everytime a plane takes off.

14. My old Nana was sensible. She blue-tacked all her breakable ornaments to her shelves. Guess what I'll be doing from now on?

15. Natural disasters put people on an equal footing. Status, money, breeding - doesn't matter. You're all in the same boat. Vulnerable. Needing each other. Truly realizing that old adage that material things don't matter.

16. Life is precious. Life is precarious. Life is beautiful.

Aftermath

When we were kids we used to sing a little song like this. . . I wonder if anyone else remembers it.

Don't build your house on the sandy land,

don't build it too near the shore.

For it might look kind of nice,

but you'll have to build it twice,

oh you'll have to build your house once more.

(I think it was a Sunday School song).

Oh dear, how true those words ring now. It's like people who build on the clifftops of Auckland. (Weren't they listening in Fifth Form Geography class)?

Reading through the news accounts of the devastation of so many homes and the shock in the faces of so many people in Christchurch I was nearly bought to tears today. I saw one of my favourite shops get demolished. Such a familiar sight as I drove past it four or five times a week. I have ornaments in my home that I love that I found in that shop. Just on Thursday I drove past and admired a beautiful white chair and an ornate birdcage in the window. I guess it's all gone now. One of my close friends' house in uninhabitable. Another friend lost her chimneys. One friend has a huge gap in her floor. Most everyone I know has had trouble with hot water cylinders. And every single person wants to forget that one very long minute so early in the morning.

It's a feeling of being so very thankful that we have been largely untouched - except for the trauma and a few breakages. I still wake up with a jolt at night randomly. Everytime a plane flies overhead I think it is the rumble starting again and my whole body tenses, ready to spring out of bed.

But there's also the feeling of helplessness - unable to help, unable to do anything practical when we live so far out. We have good, uncontaminated water out here, and our power never went out. Some people still have nothing. I felt slightly better today when a friend asked if he could stay over tomorrow night to get hot food and a warm shower and restock his water bottles. (He helped build our house, so he ought to know it's strong, right)? And some other friends are on evacuation notice down by the Waimakariri River and will be coming here with their four children if they have to leave.

Just a little thing that I can do in the vastness of such need.

Earthquake!

I was woken by the roar at 4.30am. I think I was the first to wake and I know from a previous experience when we were in a hotel fire that I just jump into automatic mode.  My first thought was my baby asleep in her cot - so as I ran to her room I yelled at my husband and the kids to wake up as I went, although a couple of them were already coming out of their rooms, crying with fright.

Alice was sound asleep, but I scooped her up and we all ran down to the living rooms where we took shelter under the table and under the bench. And then it was over.

The shaking and rumbling was terrifying. I didn't realise how scared I was until it was over. My heart was racing and I was breathing like I had been running. It was pitch black outside, which didn't help, and cold.

The aftershocks were plentiful and loud. The children, and me too, were all edgy and jumpy for at least 2 hours afterwards. I started shaking when it was all over, and so we all rugged up in blankets and jerseys, just in case we had to run outside.

Then we walked through the house to survey the damage. We were very fortunate in that we only lost a few ornaments. A couple of pictures fell down. And I lost my beautiful Lladro girls that my sister gave me for my 21st birthday. I'm quite heartbroken about it really, and I hope that I'll be able to find a replacement.

All morning we've had phone calls and texts and emails from family and friends - which is so nice and appreciated. We've even heard from friends in England, North Carolina and Illinois, USA. Amazing to think it has made the news over there.
We've also had the neighbours calling in for coffee - which has been lots of fun.

We're still getting aftershocks. One of my children is quite scared and runs to huddle under the bench with pillows at every shake. In the warm sunshine and bright light of day, and chatting with the neighbours, it's hard to believe it happened, until I look at my broken things and we get the odd shake. When the aftershocks come, it feels a bit like a boat shuddering.

We are in the Waimak area which is in a state of emergency (if you're watching tv), but we are nowhere near the coast, so there is no power outage or water shortage in our rural area.

In our homeschooling we've had fire and earthquake drills before, and I've always tried to teach the kids not to be afraid, blah, blah, blah. But now I've had enough excitement. It's not really much fun, and I was afraid. But I'm awfully glad for our government rules on house building - they seem so flimsy when they're being built with the concrete slab and the miles and miles of planks of wood, but now I know why and I'm glad.