Things have been...rough. I wish I could say that I'm coming through the other side of the tunnel now, but the truth is I'm still flailing about in the dark trying to figure out which direction I should be going.
Last week my hometown Christchurch experienced a magnitude 7.1 earthquake. I am grateful to God that no one died as a result, as some of the stories, pictures and video footage coming out of Christchurch has been shocking.
As I look at my beautiful, broken home city, I feel so sad knowing that this quake has changed the city forever. Holes in the earth, houses and buildings falling down, some damaged beyond repair and having to be torn down by demolition crews. My home, like a symbol of my whole life, destroyed beyond recognition.
My world came crashing down around me long before the earthquake. Someone took everything I knew and loved and shook it all up to such a degree that nothing will ever quite be the same again. Now I'm standing in the ruins, trying to gauge what can be restored out of this mess. I'm so afraid there might be nothing left.
As Christchurch rebuilds, I will be too. But before I can rebuild I, like the city, need to clear out the rubble left behind by the big shake, need to assess what is still strong enough to hold on to, and what parts need to be let go of.
It all looks like rubble right now, it all looks damaged. It's so hard to see anything but the cracks. They were not there before, now they're a part of what I've spent so long building, and they're weakening the whole structure. Every aftershock that comes is causing a little more damage. What if the next one, however small, brings the whole thing down?
I'll survive. We all will.
It's just tough picking up the pieces of a life so carefully put together.