Shaky at the Moment

For those who haven't heard, the city of Christchurch was devastated by a 6.3 earthquake yesterday at 12:51 p.m. I'm still processing everything as the events of the last few days race incessantly through my mind.

Monday heralded the first day of classes at the University of Canterbury. I only had my Intermediate Latin Authors class that day (sounds like a good schedule to me) and spent the afternoon exploring the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean at Sumner by myself. As I leaned out over the edges of the rocks, I could see the waves crashing over the rocky projections and admired the beauty of the landscape around me.

Yesterday started like a normal day. I was excited to finally begin my classes (two months off has been too much) and processed through four within the morning. Antarctic Studies, Latin, Roman Art and Architecture, and Conversational Maori all passed swiftly. Being the nerd I am, I was looking forward to buying my books and starting my homework.

The earthquake hit while I was sitting outside the lecture halls waiting for a friend. I cannot describe the experience fully. All of the sudden, I found myself standing as the buildings around me began to move in a way buildings never should. The concrete multi-level edifices swayed and groaned as the ground shook violently and made it difficult to stand. As the shaking continued, my mind was strangely blank except for two thoughts: "This is an earthquake" and "It has to stop soon." Unbelievably, the ground continued to buckle and the screams of fellow students could be heard. Around thirty seconds of chaos passed before an eerie silence and stillness settled over the area.

Students wearing expressions of panic and shock burst from the surrounding buildings. Anxious chatter was soon heard as individuals shared their experiences. I found myself in a group of Classics professors and students (ironic?) who guessed the magnitude as at least a six.

No damage was immediately visible on any of the buildings so we all processed rather calmly from the area to the field nearby, directed by men in orange vests labeled "Earthquake Remediation Team."

On the way, an intense aftershock struck and a small chunk of concrete fell from a building to my left. Fans also edged out of students' open windows and onto the lawn. Everyone began to walk more quickly. When I finally reached the open field, students and faculty were milling around nervously. After a half hour, we were told to head home as campus was being closed down until further notice. I walked back to the flats with some people in my program. It wasn't until we got there that we heard about the devastation downtown.

Reports of collapsed buildings and fatalities reached the University. The Canterbury Cathedral's spire had fallen and the roof collapsed. Two buses were crushed by falling buildings. People were trapped under the rubble of Christchurch's central business district.

In comparison with that news, our issues were minor. We weren't allowed to go into our flats until they had been checked and the power remained out for a few hours. After being let back in, we assessed the damage to our flat. The kitchen revealed fallen food and preparation items. In my own room, all of the things on my desk had been shaken onto the floor and the shelves in my closet had fallen. As a result, my floor was covered with a mix of papers, personal hygiene items, clothes, and pens. While we were inside, a series of strong aftershocks struck and we were forced to find shelter in our doorways.

In an effort allay our anxiety about being crushed by the two floors above us should the building fall, we made our way out. The aftershocks were overwhelming and scary to a few of my flatmates and we ended up sitting outside eating cookies. There's nothing like chocolate as a comfort food.

The rest of the night was spent watching the news once the power came on, discussing the shocking situation, and boiling water to drink. When it came time to go to bed, I will admit I was a bit hesitant. Aftershocks were still occurring frequently. Two of my flatmates opted to sleep in a car instead of inside. Sarah (a New Yorker) and I pulled our mattresses out into the living room and parked ourselves in front of the television.

The night passed fitfully. Four strong aftershocks rattled the apartment and waking up to shivering walls and squeaking cabinets is not conducive to sleep.

Today has been a day of watching the news and attempting to figure out plans. Water is still limited and dirty as the city's waste system was severely damaged by the quake. Liquefaction and flooding have taken over the streets. One study abroad program pulled its students out of the university this afternoon and is having them transfer to other colleges in New Zealand. Many kiwis left campus for relatives' houses or took domestic flights to other cities. Around half of those in my program left for other parts of New Zealand via the bus.

Internet service returned early this afternoon and I was able to Skype with my family and boyfriend. Seeing them was wonderful and comforting.

Our program contacted us and picked those of us remaining up in a bus. After an hour long drive and subsequent arrival at a welcoming hostel in Springfield, we have eaten an awesome dinner and have internet access.

It is difficult to accept the comforts afforded to me now when I know that there are many within the city struggling to find clean water, dry shelter, and most devastatingly, family members and friends. I feel so ineffectual. I do not know what I can do to help. I do not know if I even can stay in Christchurch this semester and help. The University is closed indefinitely and estimates place its reopening for a couple weeks out.

As I consider the timing of the quake, I am constantly reminded that I was on a bus in the city's center at 12:51 p.m. on Monday. I am lucky. There are 75 confirmed deaths and hundreds of people still missing. Only class saved me from being downtown.

Right now, I can only request prayer for those in Christchurch, all of their family and friends, and the workers laboring to free those trapped. I am fine and currently blessed with a safe place to stay, clean water, and the ability to contact those I love. I believe God is in charge, but it's difficult to see the destruction in Christchurch at the moment.

Fur Seals, Paua Shells, and Antarctic Studies

As it has been an entire week since my last post, I must preface this by saying I will certainly not be able to describe all that has happened this week. It has been difficult at times, tiring often, and fantastically fun.

The beginning of the week found me a bit melancholy. I woke up Monday missing home and those I love. The reality of the distance was settling in and while Skype is a blessing, it is not quite the same as face-to-face contact. After a relaxing run and journaling session, I put myself back together and have been much more collected since.

I realized that I often pray for God to change me. Whether that is to "grow" me as a person or simply give me more patience, I am constantly lodging requests. The issue is that when God gives me an opportunity to gain the qualities I had asked for, I want to squirm out of them. In this case, I prayed for God to grow me into the person He desires me to be. When confronted with a situation that could potentially do just that, I become scared, anxious, and uncomfortable. Goal of the week: Appreciate the blessings resident in difficulty. Relish in the ability to change and grow. Recognize that loneliness, frustration and discomfort are steps on the journey to maturation.

Valentine's Day, while never my favorite holiday, was certainly memorable. Two surprises met me: a present from my mother stowed away in secret within my suitcase and the arrival of beautiful flowers from an unbelievable boyfriend. I am blessed.

The beginning of this week was also laden with beach time. Separate visits to both the Sumner and New Brighton beaches resulted in the finding of a neat shell, fun times splashing in tidal caves, and a lovely red nose.

As a brutal reminder that I remain a student, enrollment for classes occurred Thursday. Going in, I planned on taking three classes of medium difficulty: Intermediate Latin Authors, Roman Art and Architecture, and Marine Biology. In the unpredictable way of class time offerings, conflicts arose and I ended up with an interesting schedule. Replacing Marine Biology are Conversational Maori for Absolute Beginners and Antarctic Studies: The Cold Continent. Interesting, huh?

Friday morning met us early (5:30 am) as we embarked to catch the train booked the night before (college-aged students plan ahead). I, along with six friends, was headed to Kaikoura: home to whales, dolphins, seals, and many different species of bird. The train ride brought us through mountains and to the Pacific. As we reached the ocean, the views were unbelievable. Mountains rose up from near the shore and everything seemed painted in a bright shade of blue.

Friday was spent exploring the area. A two hour voyage in sea kayaks (of which Laura and I were the slowest and constantly told to "paddle harder") resulted in sunburn, fatigue, and most importantly, the sighting of dozens of New Zealand fur seals and a few Blue Belly penguins. Fresh seafood was on the menu for dinner and I decided to take a hint from my eldest brother and order the strangest thing on the menu: Paua fritters. They are a fried mixture of egg and a mussel-like food that comes from large and colorful shells. The animal is found in abundance around the Kaikoura area. I cannot describe the taste...It was unique? Our hunger was finally sated after a trip into town to buy Hokey Pokey ice cream along with Tim Tams. We felt incredibly kiwi-ish.

Today (Saturday) brought more expeditions and adventures. We awoke early and headed out on a day hike around the Peninsula. The beginning section went along the shore (it was low tide at the time). After a somewhat terrifying run-in with a large seal, we backtracked a bit and dragged ourselves up to the top of the hills. The views were excellent and the company sustained by games of 20 questions. After a quick lunch and layout on the rocky beach, we boarded the train back into Christchurch.

It was two of the most enjoyable days I have had in a long while. The scenery was unbelievable. I can scarcely believe anything that beautiful truly exists. Kaikoura will hopefully be a place of travel for me in the future.

As I prepare for school on Monday, I am a little anxious about the amount of work, expectations, differences between school systems, etc. Nevertheless, God's tiny voice seems to constantly whisper in my ear His comfort and a gentle reminder of my prayer for growth. It seems that God does indeed listen to prayers. Who would have thought?

Being Present.

I have arrived.

Whew.

I will admit that throughout the journey to New Zealand, I did not have the most positive of self-talk. My therapist would be horrified. Let's just say that the thirteen hour plane ride over (one of three flights within 24 hours) provided me with ample time to think over my decision to leave everything familiar behind. Every few hours, I would find myself having moments of panic. My breathing would quicken, my mind would begin to race, and I would doubt my decision to study abroad. Instead of being filled with excitement, I felt bogged down by concerns related to housing, banking, cell phones, customs, friendships, and independent travel. I missed my loved ones back home and was daunted by the knowledge that soon I would be out of easy contact.

When I consider the differences between in my thinking at the moment and that on the plane, I am struck by God's faithfulness. I heard at church a few days before leaving the States a question which has stuck with me. My pastor said, "Look back on your life and ask yourself: 'When has God not been faithful?'" As I look back even on the last four days, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for God's never-ending care.

The last four days have been wonderful, exhausting, stretching, and exhilarating. I have moved into an on-campus apartment, cooked my first meal on my own (scrambled eggs and barbecue sauce with a side of yogurt and muesli), and finally purchased a full-size towel. I have also met dozens of people from all over the world (including my flatmates from Australia and Germany), toured the lovely town of Christchurch, gone jet boating on a glacier-fed river, helped shear a sheep, climbed towering rocks at Castle Hill in gale-like winds, forded into a limestone cave at Cave Stream, visited the quaint town of Springfield, watched a sunset over the mountains, eaten too much, gazed on sites for scenes in Lord of the Rings and Narnia, learned how to use public transportation (thanks to my handy dandy bus card), and seen more sheep than I have in my entire life.

Through it all, I have never felt completely alone. God's presence is never far away in a land where mountains claw the sky and rivers rush with waters so blue you can scarcely believe they're real. While difficult times are certain to arrive at some point, I can only help but marvel at the vast scope of God's abilities. The same God who has always been faithful to guiding me created the wondrous country around me.

To Him be the glory.

Snow, Snow, Snow.

In an effort to see my best friend/cousin and older brother before I set out next week, I have come to Chicago. Yes, I speak of the city that recently received around 20 inches of snow.

While the snow is accompanied by certain inconveniences (namely the inability to go anywhere), I cannot help but be struck by the strength of the natural forces around us. The weather is something too often I dismiss as predictable, manageable, and ordinary. On a day when almost two feet of snow have fallen and shut down a thriving metropolis, I can only stand in awe.

As I peek out the frosty windows at the submerged cars, single-file sidewalk paths of packed snow, and blowing flakes, all I can see is beauty in the snow as well as its effects. The pace of living has slowed on account of the billions of unique crystals that have fallen. Friends trudge through to visit and express astonishment over the snowfall. Conversation is made over mugs of hot chocolate while fresh cookies are prepared and consumed in large quantities. Homework is pushed off and adventures into the winter wonderland are instead the assignments of the night.

Though it would be unfortunate to have a delayed flight home tomorrow morning, I cannot find it in me to be angry. The snow that would limit my return to Minnesota has blessed me over the last few days. It has allowed me time with people I care about and a slowing of the hectic daily pace. Therefore, I come out of the Chicago blizzard with this thought: Snow, thank you. It has been wonderful.

On the Verge

Imagine a flat plain as far as the eye can see. It has slight dips and rises, but the land flows in a relatively consistent stream. As you approach a small rise seemingly no different from all others you have strolled up, you spot a difference. Off in the distance, there is a dark area. An unknown patch. Not menacing, but different from any other area you have seen.

When you gradually make your way closer, a gray wall of fog materializes in front of you. Somehow, you know that you must step in. You must take the risk. You must trust that the path for your life runs through that unknown patch, that unseeable future.

I am facing a towering column of gray fog. As I spent tonight packing up my room and preparing to leave Gustavus in the morning, I was visited by wonderful friends who came to wish me luck and say goodbye. They constantly expressed their excitement for the opportunity soon to arrive in my life. While my excitement about studying abroad in New Zealand is real, I can sense the uncertainty facing me.

I love to plan out my career path, my college courses, the steps in my relationships, and my days. A problem arises with this futuristic strength when one is confronted with a future that is simply unknown. I cannot see through the fog to predict the friendships that will be formed, the lessons learned, and the experiences had. I cannot even rely on the comfort found in a known academic situation.

As I sit here on my bed and gaze down at St. Peter from my window, I am struck by the beauty of the small bed of fog resting over the town. It blankets the orange lights and all the buildings seem to nestle sweetly down in it for the night.

The fog is beautiful. It is filled with new surprises and twists. An unexpected friend or helpful stranger may pop out from the mist and bring joy to your life. In the same way, a difficult experience or stressful issue may leap up at any moment. Through all, I find comfort in this: God has promised to guide me through New Zealand and beyond. As I began preparing for this trip during the summer, God laid a verse on my heart that has brought me peace. In Psalm 139, it is written:

"If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

your right hand will hold me fast."

I will be on the far side of the sea in eleven days. While the things to come seem enshrouded in fog, I know whose hands I am in. They are strong, caring, and dependable hands.

Same-Sex Areas?

I recently filled out a form for my housing in New Zealand. One checkbox read, "Same-sex area required?" Thinking this was referencing the presence of a singular gender per floor, I checked "No."

Upon reflection, I have no idea what "Same-sex area" means. Will I have a flatmate of the opposite gender? Will I share a room with a guy? Where will I change? Will I have to fall asleep to snoring? What if he doesn't bathe regularly? What if he enjoys listening to death metal or never leaves the room due to a video game addiction?

Unfortunately, all of these thoughts hit me a few seconds after I had clicked the "Submit Form" button. The concerns were exacerbated after hearing a few hours later that a friend's brother had a female roommate during his study abroad in Australia.

Interesting, huh?

After some prayer, I realized an important thing: this is the beginning of the adventure.

It may be one filled with smelly socks, rugby games, and whatever else boys in New Zealand enjoy, but it will be my adventure.

Blessings aplenty.

I am blessed.

Too often I overlook the undeserved gifts around me. I have wonderfully supportive people in my life who care about me and enjoy (or at least pretend to enjoy) my quirky sense of humor. I attend a challenging college where I am involved in a strong community. I have the financial means to travel across the world for an extended period of time. Most importantly, I am loved inexplicably and intimately by a God in a way beyond my comprehension. To forget these blessings is to give into my natural tendency: to focus on what I see as insufficiencies instead of being grateful for the plenty.

With a long trip looming less than three weeks away, a new goal has arisen in my mind: to live each day in gratitude.

Whether I am facing difficulties certain to arise or passing through experiences easily, I intend to live each day cognizant of the blessings in my life. A wise person told me this morning that adventures are simply inconveniences viewed in a different light. I desire to attune my mind's lenses to that light. I desire to appreciate the small blessings. I desire to see God everyday in the little things of life.

New Zealand, here I come. I am a young traveler prepared to be challenged, confused, and grown.

I am blessed.