Shaken and stirred

It's unavoidable. We might wish to ignore it but we only fool ourselves. We might think we are better than someone else, but eventually we all end up in the same place. Dead. This really is the only assurance we have in our life; one day we will die. Death is not biased, it doesn't pick favorites, and it doesn't play games. Death is stranger to none of us...yet we detest his familiarity. And before we lose our own lives, we will experience the loss of a loved one. I lost my father 10 years ago and even now there are days when my heart aches for him. For those of us that remain, death leaves an indelible hole.

This week the earth trembled, buildings crumbled and death came. In times of great destruction and mass sorrow, it's hard to make sense of life. The past few months have been endured with a quiet terror that last Septembers earthquake was a harbinger of things to come. On Wednesday, the unvoiced fears of many became reality. We all think we are somehow indestructible. We are not. We are made of flesh and bone and blood and tears. We break, we bruise, we live, we die. When tragedy strikes it is often with such a viciousness that we can scare comprehend. And life for those tarnished with the brush of death will never be the same again.

I don't know the victims who did not survive the earthquake. I have spent little time in Christchurch. To be honest, I have spent little thought on Christchurch since the first major quake. For those of us at a safe arm's length away, it's all too easy to become complacent, even jaded. It's that 'out of sight, out of mind' mentality. Or perhaps, more to the point, it's simply because it's not happening to me. I watch what unfolds from the safe comfort of my living room. I am moved by the images that flash up on my screen, by the stories of heroism and courage. I am outraged by the weakness of man and those who can even conceive to prey upon others at such a time. I am broken for those who have lost loved ones, friends, colleagues. And I am absolutely terrified that I will squander away this precious gift of life. Life is short. In one moment you are here, and the next you are not. We have no idea when or how or where we will breathe our last, only that at some point it will occur. None of us imagine dying in tragic circumstances. We all hope to die curled up in our beds, blissfully unaware and pain-free as we slip from this world to the next. But that is not a promise or guarantee. It is through tragedy and in the arms of grief that we are faced with our fragility. When circumstances such as these fall to us, we question the meaning of it all. Life is short and easily broken. Sometimes it takes devastation to remind you of this. It's going to be a long hard road to overcome the horror of the past few days. I can't even begin to imagine the harrowing struggle the city of Christchurch and her people have already endured and what they must continue to endure in the months and years ahead. I can't do much to help Christchurch and its people. I can give money and donate things. I can pray and I can weep and I can hope.

When facing death, the pain can feel insurmountable. It can be unyielding, intolerable, unending. It can shut you down or push you to embrace the time that remains. For me, this earthquake has shaken off my complacency. It has stirred in me a desire to live and be and do all that I wish for myself. I want to make each moment count. I want to chase my dreams with a renewed fervor. I want to be kinder and more generous. I want to let my friends and family know how much I treasure them and how much their life is a gift to my own. I want to live fully until my moment arrives to depart this earth. Perhaps in me living my life and pursuing my dreams I can honor those no longer with us.

Christchurch, you are in my thoughts and prayers.