Sunday morning surprise

I headed down towards the bay this morning, unsure how long it would take as in would I walk or run, unsure of how my legs would go after a slow jog of 45 minutes yesterday. Of most concern again was my right knee, which was yet again the reason I’d done little enough running recently that a slow jog of that length, never mind a proper, energetic run, had been a real struggle. After a bit of walking, legs feeling OK, I said to myself, “I’m gonna have a run again”, took note of the time and started – though cautiously.

Half an hour later, the beach on one side of me and the busy road on the other, I saw something bright and orange ahead – plastic cones laid out in a line, in the middle of the path. When some fit looking dudes started to appear, coming at me with at least twice my speed, it dawned on me. Since I have a day off, this was the run I should be doing today! I remembered they put it on every year. The one I was going to enter several years ago if I hadn’t had work on the day. But this time I had stumbled on it by accident. Just past the beginning of the cones, the turnaround point for those who had started running from far away in the direction I was going – they came, with their numbered bibs – and past me they hurtled. Yes, I should be with them, I thought. Going at their speed, or at least somewhere near it. Because I should be in their condition. Should have done the half-marathon in May. Should have done the City2Surf in August. I should be going as fast as them because I should look like them, that is about 30-40 kg lighter than I am. But I didn’t, I haven’t and I’m not. My right knee has seen to that for more than 2 years now. It’s true I’ve been going somewhat in the right direction (as far as weight is concerned) using the newly discovered (for me) slow carb diet, but all too slowly. Soon they were past the turnaround point and coming back behind me, and whizzing past – yep, confirmed – at least twice my speed. I tried to “keep left” to stay out of their way.

Now I was getting tired. I made up my mind to get to the water fountain a bit further ahead, have a nice long drink and turn back. I’d already got to the 30 minutes my knee had typically allowed (though not too many days in a row) in recent months, and a bit beyond. Soon the density of athletic looking people powering past in both directions increased. It took a tricky manoeuvre to go across the oncoming traffic to the welcome water source. Then back in the other direction. The people a bit further back in the race were now going past at a little bit more like “my pace”, with emphasis on “a little bit”! It would have been easy to assume, approaching from behind, that I was in the race. After all, the bibs indicating participation are worn on the front. One would have to assume I’d been one of the foolish ones without the training behind me, having gone out too hard and now already spent approaching halfway. For a brief moment I could imagine the times I had been in running events like this, and take in the atmosphere, as if I was a real participant – with all the colour, excitement and sound of all those pounding feet and heaving lungs. But I couldn’t fool myself. I didn’t belong. Not any more. Everyone was still surging past me. I eased back on the effort level, insisting to myself that I was just going at my easy pace on an easy Sunday morning run (even though my lungs were pretty much burning), so I didn’t have to compare myself to them.

Then I saw the turnaround point, saw them all turning around and continued onwards – and boom! silence! I was alone again, on my own “easy-paced” run, like waking up from a dream. That was sobering, I thought. How far I have fallen from the times I was in among all that, all due to that stupid damn knee. But then a pleasant realisation hit me. I’d reached 45 minutes. For the second time in 2 days. And I was still going. I made a determination that I would keep going, for longer. Now the bay was behind me, the journey home ahead. 55 minutes. Something felt a bit niggly, was it just my imagination? Never mind. Enough for today. The rest of the journey home would be a walk. At the end of the walk, no knee soreness, just the vaguely felt muscle fatigue throughout the legs that says “how good is this – I’ve been for a run again!” and this without one Voltarin tablet entering my body during at least a few days before. But I was still feeling the difference between now – running dead slow for less than an hour and being physically spent, and then – running for over 2 hours at a much faster pace, and getting to the end feeling like I could have some more.

I guess there is now an elephant in the room – the question of does this story have a glorious epilogue? After all, it would seem running is not hurting my knee now. Well, for that particular race anyway, it will take about a year to answer that. For now, I await the telltale onset of soreness in that familiar right knee medial meniscus region this evening or tomorrow that tells me “you shouldn’t have done that”. I have been here before during the past year, only for it to hit later. There have been too many false dawns now not to expect it. But it may be different this time, one can only hope.

Prayer to the God of the Journey

I just came across this, and thought it was gold. Maybe a bit related to my previous post.

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going, I do not see the road ahead of me.

I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you, and I hope I have the desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always… I will not fear, for you are ever with me.

– Thomas Merton

Elijah’s despair, God’s provision

In my daily reading plan (which I’m almost a month behind in) I recently came across the story of 1 Kings 19. A sobering story to put all the various troubles my life has had in perspective. I’ve always wondered whether my faith would receive a boost should God do something visible or audible for me that was unmistakably him, whether the spectacular signs shown to Moses and his followers in the desert or the “gentle whisper” given to Elijah. Then, coincidentally (or not?), a in a book I’ve been reading recently, I came across a suggestion that the real translation of what Elijah heard should in fact be “silence”, which is interesting given that’s what I pretty much hear every time I pray and listen for him too, but there must have been something tremendously encouraging for the faith of the prophet in what happened there. What does this say to me? Maybe that the things I might expect to see God in, are things he is not necessarily in or saying anything to me with – like Elijah’s fire, wind and earthquake. Maybe it’s that God and his plan will really only be found with dedicated and earnest seeking by faith. Also maybe (and this is the part I really don’t like) it is saying that by human nature this kind of seeking mostly tends to come as a result of crisis and despair in life. I’m not really comfortable with this, since it would appear to give some purpose and legitimacy to suffering (certainly I hope to never be in a position like Elijah found himself in!), but maybe it’s at least legitimate to say that seeking God is a far better response to it than running from him and abandoning faith. I’ve been trying to listen hard lately, time will tell where this goes.

 

Last flight of Endeavour

One of the things I’ve enjoyed recently is following the NASA Space Shuttle mission dubbed STS-134, both via live streaming of NASA TV (including a live view of the launch) and the many video highlights packages. It was the second last of the shuttle program and the last for the newest vehicle, Endeavour, which visited the International Space Station. All the daily mission recap videos on the NASA website are worth seeing as they reveal a great deal not only about the experience of space flight, but the real personalities of the people involved for whom it’s definitely not all intense work and no play. But to start with, check out this visually spectacular and awe-inspiring piece here.

If you are at all interested in this stuff, it will be well worth logging on and following Atlantis as it blasts off for the final time. If I can edit slightly (improve even?) the words of STS-134 commander Mark Kelly – “It is in the DNA of our great humanity to reach for the stars and explore. We must not stop”.

Last ditch effort…

…to get my knee right and start running to train for the City 2 Surf.

Before today the last 2 visits to the surgeon resulted firstly in a scan that came up clear with no further damage and seeming improvement, then a script for more anti-inflams with the confident assurance it would come good.

But to cut a long story short, the last week has shown that the way it’s been going post-arthroscopy, the presence or absence of this kind of medication in my body is basically the sole determinant of how it feels. There was a false dawn when I visited Queensland soon after the last checkup, when I was able to walk for 60-90 minutes without it getting too sore.  Then another one as the physio encouraged me to start running a bit. There were 3 days at one stage when I was able to run for 15 minutes, then 20, then 30 – but the 4th day it felt no good. In the end, any apparent improvement was all due to the pills that masked the problem. After swallowing yet another 2 packets of Voltarin over about a month and a half and running out late last week, it has been just as sore, especially after a couple of hours of Ping Pong or even so much as  a 20 minute walk, as it was just before the operation – maybe even worse, I can remember pulling up not too bad after a 5km walk just before going in.

Latest visit to the doc today – first time I’ve heard a doctor say “I’ve got no idea what’s going on”, and say that he’s basically out of ideas as to things he can do to fix it. And not only has he said he can’t really do anything more for me, he also says no-one else can either. There was even the grim hypothesis that I had early stage arthritis. Not something I need at my age. But there was one more thing to try. The cortisone injection I maybe should have got last time but that he said I didn’t need. I got it today. Direct targeted injection of an anti-inflam, right in the knee joint. That reduced the pain within minutes, and more than halved it within an hour. Now, late into the evening, it’s feeling even better, almost normal again though I’ve probably forgotten what that feels like. Wondering what I should do while I’ve got that relief from the drug which is clearly blocking most or all inflammation now. Would be tempting to “make hay while the sun shines” by getting some serious running happening, but he told me not to go crazy with it.

Don’t know how long this relief will last. Best case scenario is my stupid knee will get a break from inflammation, realise its no longer injured and stop blowing up at the slightest sign of any strenuous activity. But I’m not counting on it. Doc says it might end up being a long term thing, best managed by more medication, if this running thing is important to me (which is a bit like asking the question “do you want  a life worth living?”). At the moment I don’t think I’ll be seeking more medical intervention, I’ve thrown enough money at these so-called experts to get nowhere with this. Maybe it will be like my other knee a few years ago, which when no problem could be found with a scan it eventually came good after 6 months of doing not much. I’ll be busy most or all of tomorrow. If it feels OK Sunday morning I might go for a short light run, and see how it goes. Utterly tokenistic from a fitness point of view but would do my mental health some good and worth it just for that.

Again I ask the Lord for a positive outcome, starting tonight, with a gradual return to serious running and no further pain. I’ve got no doubt he can do it, the one who raised Jesus from the dead as I was reminded of again over the wonderful Easter celebrations is able to fix anything. But I’m afraid past experience has shown he often for whatever reason just won’t. Call it lack of faith if you like, but for me faith tends to need to be evidence-based. Most importantly, there is evidence which points most strongly towards the actual, historical fact that Jesus conquered death and so his promise can be relied on to one day do the same for all of us as well, and that will be a great day. Much more on that, another day, I hope. In the imperfect interim, I pray and hope that my current small problem (though it looks big for me with the quality of life factor it utterly determines) is one of the ones he chooses to fix, and I live in hope that his time for doing so is “soon”. For now, following some logical reasoning, I put my relief entirely down to the work of cortisone. Maybe that’s one of the things he’ll choose to use.

Something really worth seeing

 

Happy 50th birthday to Space Travel.

The right knee saga continues

Since my last post on this topic I’m pleased to be able to report some improvement, though it’s not all the way there yet. In the past week I have been able, at various times, to walk up to about an hour without aggravating the slight niggle that still persists in my knee. I have also been able to swim up and down a pool for the same amount of time. In fact recently I did both in one day without it feeling any the worse for wear at the end of the day, several hours after I’d finished both activities. However all that activity must have had a cumulative effect by Tuesday night when there was a bit more of a dull ache. It had deteriorated further by the time I had played Ping Pong for a while, though I was still able to walk to the buses and trains home quite easily. But by the end of yesterday it wasn’t too bad so the recovery from these episodes is now pretty fast. BTW while I’m on the topic of Ping Pong, if you’re looking for a place to play in the centre of Sydney with a friendly social atmosphere and good music as well, I recommend going here.

Yesterday was also the day of my latest consultation with the surgeon after having the prescribed scan of the offending area on Friday night. There is good news out of it, in that I have no stress fracture, stress injury or any other structural damage. The remaining medial meniscal cartilage left from the operation is intact with no further tears. But I now have some tendonitis in the “patella tendon” – the one that holds my kneecap in place. This seemed strange at the time of the consultation given that the site of most pain was still the inside of the joint, though strangely now that I’ve been made aware of it, I am feeling the slight pain in the kneecap area this morning much more than on the original site which is basically non-existent as I type. The Dr says this inner joint pain is probably referred pain. He also says that the tendonitis might be from doing too much activity too soon after the surgery. I think he might have also pointed out some inflammation on the inside of the joint where I’ve been having the trouble. However I’m now out of the “danger time” when activity could have led to more structural damage. I have been given a plan to help the residual issues resolve themselves. More strengthening exercises, stretches, a gradual and cautious increase of activity with time like more walking and eventually a bit of running when it feels ready, and in the meantime more anti-inflammatory medication. I’ve got an eagerly anticipated camping trip with some of the family in Queensland this weekend and the way my knee feels now, I dare say I could walk the 5.5km to the airport tomorrow afternoon to catch the plane there, and save an exhorbidant taxi or total-rip-off train fare. I’ve already taken the script from the surgeon to the pharmacy and got the medicine, and had no hesitation in commencing taking it at lunch time yesterday and again at breakfast time this morning. No doubt this is contributing to the improvement.

After a 2km swim yesterday morning and a walk around a shopping centre to pick up some things, the walk from there to the Dr’s surgery was a bit painful but as I just described, it has again recovered quickly. After a physical examination as well as looking at the scan report and films, he declared that my knee was in excellent shape, all it will take to cure the residual pain is the plan above, and (unfortunately) more time. This is the worst part of it. I don’t have more time. I should be training for the half marathon in May right now. It’s probably past the time I can get fit enough for it. I must emphasise the physical pain associated with this incident is very mild and quite bearable in comparison to the utter mental anguish at all the running and other activity, not to mention physical conditioning, that this injury has robbed me of.  But hopefully in a few weeks I’ll be able to run again and focus on the City to Surf. Fingers crossed for a rapid end to this journey – Destination: injury-free long-distance running…

Time for a carbon tax?

The Australian government announced last week a vague and detail-free plan for a carbon tax as a way to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. It appears to be little more than an “idea” at present. It’s given a massive free kick to the opposition due to Prime Minister Julia Gillard’s unequivocal statement before the last election that there would be no carbon tax under her government. Opposition leader Tony Abbott has made full use of the opportunity with his hysterical “Liar, liar!”-style attacks in parliament, daring to suggest that the idea that a politician might have lied was a truly noteworthy event. Remember John Howard’s “never ever” GST Tony? Or his suggestion that parents had thrown their kids overboard from a refugee boat to gain politically? Or his promise that no-one would be worse off under Work Choices? Of the lies about WMD’s on which was based our participation in the invasion of Iraq? Or (and this one tops them all) the Liberal Party’s promise 2 elections ago to “keep interest rates at record lows”!? Yes there is plenty of form in the misleading and deception department on the Liberal side. But Gillard really doesn’t look very good in all this. She could have been forthright in citing the changed conditions in parliament due to the election that delivered a minority government making negotiation and compromise more necessary than ever before, but probably knew this would lead to a feeding frenzy by those who like to claim that the Greens are really dictating government policy. She could have claimed that she has done some thinking, got more information and more advice and said “before I thought that, now I think this – I’ve changed my mind“. Either of these might have at least mitigated to some extent the fallout from this backflip. Even better would have been to keep the old Carbon Pollution Reduction Scheme as policy through the last election campaign. It might have actually convinced some people that the Labor party stood for something and given them an outright victory.

What is more important than all this political bickering, however, is what is actually the best plan for Australia’s energy future? By putting a price on carbon, you raise the cost of coal-generated electricity which raises power bills, and then there’s the vexed issue of who to compensate for this so the most vulnerable in society are not negatively affected. But if you do compensate too many people, the ones who can afford higher power bills will just use the same amount anyway which defeats one purpose of the price signal – to encourage lower electricity consumption overall. The other purpose of it is to presumably make the price of “dirty” energy higher than, or at least on a par with, “clean” energy. But that assumes there is enough alternative “clean” energy for people to switch to. So now for the real question: Where is the government’s investment in developing renewable energy? Or is it all going to be left to private companies and the market? Investment in the scientists to research viable ways of accessing solar, wind, tidal and geothermal  energy and in the engineers and builders to design and build new kinds of power stations will make us a smarter country, lead to more employment and stimulate the economy. We might even be able to export some new technologies to other countries which are keen on renewable energy, especially if it becomes an advantage under some future international treaty/agreement, and inject a boost into our economy to stop it being a one trick (mining) pony. But we are being left behind in this area.

We need two things to make ourselves a low-carbon-emissions country and so make a positive contribution to what will need to be a global effort to avert or at least mitigate catastrophic climate change. Firstly, massive investment in renewable energy, and secondly, a price on carbon to make the new renewable energy industry economically viable in competition with the cheap(er) coal-generated power we currently have. It seems to me we can’t really have one without the other – it won’t work and will be an exercise in futility. Whether this price on carbon comes from a simple tax or an emissions trading scheme, or some other economic mechanism, I don’t really care. I’m not an economist. Just find something that works and do it. But who will take any leadership on this? So far I haven’t seen much. There is so much FUD about the place about how this will wreck our economy and make us uncompetitive in trade with other countries unless there is a global agreement which forces countries to cut emissions. But what about the positives above, about stimulating the economy with new research, development and construction, and about exporting valuable new technology? Someone please tell me if I’m wrong about these positives – I plead ignorance on some economic aspects but aren’t we smart enough to find a way that works? Surely we are! Some of the negativity I just mentioned is no doubt political ideology, but am I the only one who thinks it’s also because of the cosy (financial and other) relationships between political parties and the mega-rich coal and oil industries with their media power? We’ve already seen the mega-rich mining execs, indignant that they might have to start paying their fair share of tax on the wealth in the ground that doesn’t even belong to them but to all Australians, put on a media blitz, intimidate the government into a pathetic backdown and to a large extent get rid of a Prime Minister. Just who is running this country really? It will take real political leadership to stand up to the wealthy vested interests and make some decisions that are in the best interests of all of us, not just the ones who donate to political parties and call their tune, like established energy industries which might be disadvantaged by a switch to a low-carbon economy. I would hope that the people will respect someone who has the courage to stand up for something despite the difficulties. The drop in the polls for Labor when Kevin Rudd squibbed this issue seems to strongly indicate truth at least on the other side of this coin. Who will provide that leadership? We have had Rudd commit to a positive low-emissions future then lose courage when the going got tough and pay a heavy price for it. We have had Gillard swing this way and that in the wind of opinion polls and finally seem to say she will do something that she said before the election she wouldn’t – with a long time before the next election to try to work out the details and get it through – I can imagine that being a mammoth task. Largely because – then we have Abbott and his cronies carping and whinging from the other side, vehemently opposing any positive moves at all – with the exception of a few like Malcolm Turnbull who might one day make a reasonable Prime Minister. To the extent that the Liberal party has any policy on this at all, it all revolves around paying the big polluters to reduce their emissions, presumably out of the taxes the rest of us pay. A truly ludicrous idea and putting the cart before the horse if Ive ever seen it, and in the long term it doesn’t help the growth in renewable energy at all. But I suppose it would at least keep the mega-rich who pull their puppet strings happy. What has happened since Australia was once a smart, optimistic and courageous country, and who will get us back there?

The right knee saga

This is probably not of much interest to anyone except people who know me in real life, but here it is for anyone who is interested – it’s just a more convenient way of getting information out than sending numerous duplicate emails.

In July last year my knee felt sore after a run. Gave it a couple of days rest and it seemed OK. On the next run, the pain came back – this time it didn’t go away with rest. Off to a physio for treatment. It improved somewhat. It was close enough to 100% by City to Surf day to think it might get through the run, and it looked like doing so for a while. At the bottom of the big hill I was on track for a PB. At the top of the hill though the knee was no good. I was a walking (limping) spectator for most of the 2nd half of the race, the ultimate frustration. While officially I “finished” (a long time after I’d hoped), I didn’t “run” the event really. After another couple of months of only ever partial recovery, it was time to see a GP, who sent me to a “sports physician” who ordered a MRI scan then sent me to a surgeon. All of this took a maddening amount of time.

On November 22, by which time I’d intended to have had it fully cured, I finally went to to a nearby hospital and had an arthroscopy to repair a tear in my right medial meniscus (the bit of cartilage on the inside of the knee joint between the 2 leg bones). The surgeon declared it a success (a raging success in fact, a complete repair with minimal loss of the all-important cushioning cartilage) but warned there would be some recovery time, that I should not walk long distances at first and should not run for 2 months. A big thanks must go to my Dad who came to visit and assisted me in the first stage of recovery so I didn’t have to do much.

A few more physio treatments, as recommended by the surgeon. The post-surgical stiffness and soreness in other parts of my knee joint slowly fades away. But the pain in the original spot on the inside of the joint returns, or remains – perhaps masked at first by a lack of activity and by anti-inflammatory medicine. Hello, the 2 months are up, I should be running, what are you still doing there, knee pain? Physio suspects some persistent inflammation from the operation or original injury. Voltarin helps it, and enables me to walk further, as well as work a bit on a cross-trainer I have at home – like a stationary bike but with no seat, lower impact to the joint than walking or running. But the Voltarin doesn’t cure it. A visit to a GP for something stronger to smash it on the head. He gives me Mobic. That helps too, but no more really than the Voltarin. Meanwhile the physio throws all manner of strength tests at my knee and declares it pretty robust, completely recovered from surgery. He says I can start jogging a bit. I start doing slow 100 metre jogs with rests in between. It seems not to aggravate it too much but the cause of the pain is clearly still not cured. Then the Mobic runs out. Over a few days the pain becomes worse than before the operation. Now even walking half a km aggravates it. Next visit to the physio, he recommends contacting the surgeon, and obviously discontinuing any running. I have an appointment for March 2nd, but bring it forward to last week. Surgeon is surprised I still have pain considering the awesome job he allegedly did. I need another scan. More maddening time to wait to see what’s going on. The scan will be next Friday. Then another appointment with the surgeon the week after that. If I have a stress injury, like possibly a stress fracture, it will eventually come good but will just take a lot more time. Not good. The half marathon in May is already all but abandoned. Now even this year’s City to Surf (August) might be under threat. Unthinkable. The amount of time not running has seriously done my head in. If you don’t get the kind of buzz I do from these events and don’t have the motivation for them that I do, you won’t understand, but never mind. If there is no stress injury, I’ll get an injection of cortisone. That, unlike a tablet which is diluted throughout the entire body, really should smash any remaining inflammation on the head.

In the week since I saw the surgeon, I’ve stayed off not just the running, but the cross trainer and walking any further than necessary as well. The pain has reduced dramatically (which I have no doubt is due to my reduced activity), but there is a residual “something’s not quite right” feeling that has been there for more than 6 months now. And this reduced activity is doing absolutely nothing for my general fitness which I need to be as good as possible when I do eventually start running again. Nothing worse than starting from a “total unfitness” base.

There is another aspect to this whole thing. On occasions I have received prayer for healing of this problem. It has been just as effective as all the medical treatment I’ve been getting, as in not very. An example of the kind of thing mentioned in my previous post in that so far the God I pray to has chosen not to answer in the affirmative, either by providing the kind of treatment that works, or by otherwise intervening in ways that some parts of recorded history indicate that he can. Another prompt to ponder the age old conundrum of an all-good, all-loving and all-powerful God in the world in which some things are not as they should be. As I’ve said – more coming on this topic later. The topics of this post and the previous are just 2 things, by no means the worst, that have caused me to ponder it. My problem of course pales into insignificance compared to those of many others, it just happens to be my current personal experience of the world/universe/life being utterly not as it should be.

I hope that I will soon get a complete cure. In the meantime I still can’t run. Therefore I can’t maintain anywhere near the level of fitness I would like, nor put in the training required to run well in future races. I also can’t continue learning hang gliding, which requires running (see some earlier posts). I can’t even take off significant weight to enable me to run faster when I can run and to make learning hang gliding easier (this is despite regularly starving myself lately and depriving myself of many good things – I have a remarkably efficient, metabolism-slowing, energy-conserving body). Therefore, I am not happy (about this part of my life). I hope I can report something better soon, but it is anything but a “sure and certain hope”. I do have something like that kind of hope about other things though, which is good.

Shaken up in Christchurch – and Sydney

Have you ever seen something really bad happening at a distance – I mean something world’s-attention-grabbing-bad – and known that you have close family or friends right there in it? I can say now that you probably don’t know what that’s like until it’s happened.

Last Tuesday at work an alert pops up on the computer screen. Almost instant information about a seismic event somewhere, direct from the computers at the various geological analysis centres around the world. We need this because earthquakes cause tsunamis, and part of the service we provide is tsunami warnings. We all spring into action, though probably 99% of these are either test messages or statements that there is no threat to Australia and turn out to be just an annoying interruption to the flow of work we’ve already got. In the rare cases that it could be a real threat, priorities are immediately rearranged to deal with it. Nevertheless depending on the format of the message, often we have to send a message back to the source regardless, acknowledging we’ve received it. The basic information is there. Magnitude 6.3. Latitude and longitude coordinates. For ease of interpretation, the general area is added: “South Island New Zealand”. I’m a bit new to the job I’m doing so I quickly but nonchalantly look up the written procedures for what to do about it. Already it’s been assessed as a “No threat to Australia”, probably because of the land location as well as the magnitude and distance from us. Just while I’m looking around, my mobile phone shakes. After a few minutes establishing what action is needed, I look at the message from my brother. “Just had call from Mum. Has been earthquake in Christchurch where they are but they are ok. Hotel is damaged so not sure what will happen with accommodation.” It’s the first time it’s crossed my mind in those few minutes that Mum and Dad are indeed touring New Zealand. I knew it, but I admit I didn’t have the itinerary memorised in my head. I am suddenly a lot more interested in this event.

Acknowledgment of technical message happens in a timely manner, and then soon it’s lunch time. The TV is on in the lunch room. All the TV stations have gone to Christchurch. Dust. Debris. Chaos. Piles of bricks and concrete where buildings were. Serious looking and sounding live reporters – some, as it turns out, from the very Canterbury TV organisation which now has a collapsed main office building with numerous employees inside. Dazed and confused people wandering about, some covered in dust, some with blood as well. They are there, somewhere. “Just where?” I start wondering. Nice to know they are “OK” – for the moment. But I hope they get out of there reasonably soon. All sorts of thoughts come to mind. Aftershocks. They might bring down buildings on the edge of collapse from the first shake. Sharp debris. Burst water pipes. Flash floods. Broken gas pipes. Fires and explosions. No fresh water. No sewerage. And, as the message said, presumably no accommodation. I see someone about the age, size, shape and hair colour of my mother, between 2 strong sturdy guys in fluro yellow jackets, using their strong shoulders for support, and being assisted away from a collapsed building (I haven’t told her that yet). Behind the dark glasses, and with the brief nature of the shot, I can’t tell either way. After a considerable time watching the drama unfold, it’s back to work time. I’m now in a different world from the rest of those around me. Certainly from one of the managers who wants to talk to me later and is disproportionately concerned about relatively trivial matters like my knowledge of obscure new procedures to do with monitoring of rainfall rates from automatic rain gauges, which apparently didn’t go quite as planned over the weekend when I was on duty. It occurs to me no-one actually knows what sort of a day I’m having, because they are not where I am, even though most of them now know about this situation. I’m pretty distracted for the rest of the day but manage to get through the rest of the work.

At the end of the day, just before leaving, I get through to Mum. They were in separate places doing different things when it happened, but the phones still worked and they found each other. They are still safe. They’ve been to an evacuation centre, but have now found a very nice guy who offers to give them a bed and a roof for the night. I’d like to know how well built his house is, but for the moment I have to live with some uncertainty about that. They sound confident though, so I’m happy about that. Their phone battery is almost dead but they have time to tell me I probably know a lot more about it than they do, with my access to TV, internet etc. It doesn’t occur to me to quickly tell them what I do know. Death toll 65 and counting. Prime Minister says “New Zealand’s darkest day”. Maybe they don’t need to know that yet.

As planned I go to a work function at a restaurant to farewell a very good work colleague who is leaving us. Conversation is buzzing. I tell people about Mum and Dad in Christchurch, then many other topics inevitably come along. I get into a stimulating and motivating conversation with some co-workers and one of the managers about ideas going around about how to improve the way we work and provide our services. For a while it’s a normal day again. Then the dinner ends and I say goodbye to everyone and start heading home. Now I’m in my own thoughts again, and they return across the Tasman Sea and to hoping and praying that Mum and Dad have a good, safe night. They plan to pick up a hire car the next day and get out of the town. I’ll be happy when they are out of there. I’ve been shaken up too. The dominant thought is my being a long way away and not able to see or hear what’s going on or do anything to help. From this point on, I have a bit more of an understanding of what it was like to know someone close who was booked on Pan Am flight 103, or to know someone who worked at the World Trade Center in  New York in September 2001 while watching live pictures of two of the world’s most impressive buildings self-demolish from the top down in a matter of seconds, or to know someone who was in Mumbai running from men with guns shooting at everyone they saw, or to have family in the direct path of Cyclone Yasi (like someone at work did), or in Cairo at any time in the last few weeks. This wasn’t as dramatic as some of those things but I suspect the associated helplessness is the same. Despite the apparent danger I wanted to be there, to know what was happening, to talk to Mum and Dad, and to see what I could do to help.

Now a few days have passed, and so has the danger. They are well away from Christchurch and looking at other parts of the country. A sobering thought has stayed with me. In such events, the destruction is random and unpredictable. If you are in it, whether you survive or not is a pure lottery. It depends on exactly where you are – inside or out, in a building that survived or one that collapsed. I find myself thanking God that my mother and father are still safe and well. I especially thank him that Mum decided to have lunch later instead of earlier and went inside a building just before the shaking stated, given that on exiting the building, which didn’t collapse, the smashed remains of the fallen facade could be seen all over the outdoor chairs and tables at the nearby coffee shop where lunch was to be had. On such random decisions major consequences can hang. It is a good thing that they are alive and I try to make a habit of thanking the God from whom all good things come, for every good thing he gives. But this time I have an unease about this thanks in light of that obvious lottery nature of people’s fortunes on that day, which is of course the question of what the family and friends of the dead will be thinking. For what will they be thankful? At this moment there are people I know who know people in the earthquake zone they have not heard from. For those who are confirmed dead, what was God doing for them, especially the ones who trust him? A trite answer would be “taking them to heaven/a better life/a better place” but from my earthly perspective death is still not in any sense good, so that answer’s a fail for me I’m afraid. Were they less “deserving” of being safely preserved? Luke 13:1-4, it would seem, says an emphatic “no”. What was the God who has plans to prosper people and who works  for the good of those who love him doing when they lost their friends and family members? For me, at present, the evidence before me in events like those in Christchurch speaks against these verses. If you are already typing a comment about death and destruction being inevitable in the world anyway, no doubt with well-worn cliches about a “fallen world”, or even about there being people even worse off still, then you have already missed the point.  Yes these are obvious facts – the point I make can be summed up as “why are some things the way they are, if God is all-good, all-loving and all-powerful?” This is an old, old question, and one which I find myself thinking about often. Maybe I’ve missed the point of what is “for the good of those who love him”. But “good” and “suffering” are words I am not in the habit of calling synonyms. Do I just have a difference of opinion with God on this matter? There is more to say about this, and I’ve been thinking of writing more about it here at a not-too-distant-future time. So for the time being I thank God for every good thing, but the evidence all around me in the real world convinces me I should not have any confidence that things which are as they should be, will remain so at any given time in the future, even if I ask God to arrange for it to be so. He seems to want us to ask for good things, but when I do, in my experience he often just says “no”. So why should I continue to trust him, as I actually do? Well, the good news is I actually think there are, paradoxically, good reasons to do so despite all the above. But that is for another time. Here ends this rambling post.