Where Were You When the Earth Shook?

Tuesday, June 22.: It was an ordinary day. I woke early, ate, and started working on putting together a website for my latest venture, Caedmon Tutorials. I got so wrapped up in what I was doing that I completely forgot to stop at lunch time. Then, at 1:43 p.m., my stomach started protesting, so I pushed off from my desk and made my way downstairs, my tastebuds already geared for a piece of toast with cheese and a big, steaming cup of tea.

I wandered around the kitchen in that aimless way people have who have performed a chore a zillion times before and could probably do it their sleep. 1:45 p.m. I was stirring honey into my tea when the ground shook. In some obscure part of my brain, I regisered the possibility that a large truck must have just driven by on the road. Our rather flimsily-built house seems to absorb any and all movements from the main road not far away. But then, the whole house started to shake as if someone had taken it in their hands and jostled it about.

All of a sudden, objects started dropping from shelves and desks upstairs. I could hear them smashing to the floor. I went into panic mode. For the life of me, I could not remember what you're supposed to do in an earthquake. I'd only experienced one other quake before this one. It was in 2006 and then I had been with my mother and it was not as dramatic as this one. Was I supposed to retreat to the basement? Hmm...That didn't seem right....Wasn't that for hurricanes and bombs? Common sense kicked in: the thought of being below ground level, and therefore closer to the shaking, shifting centre of things was not an option! The doorframe! That was it. Now I remembered. You had to brace yourself in a doorway. I'm not sure why. Something about the angles, maybe, and their ability to hold up the weight of things above you? Whatever the reason, I braced. The shaking became more violent and primal screams started to erupt from my throat.

I remember thinking: "So, this is how I'm going to die," except, I didn't feel blase about it at all. I was screaming the name of Jesus and begging Him to make it stop. Even as I screamed, a part of me felt very self-conscious---as if someone might be right outside listening to me and I felt ashamed for being so afraid, so unprepared. I always thought that when my time came to die, I'd be ready. But, all I could think about was how painful it was going to be: a whole house falling in on me. Or, worse yet, a sink-hole swallowing me up. And I was all alone. If my family survived, they'd come back to the ruins and they'd never find my body. My mind conjured pictures of sink-holes in Quebec, in South America, in Asia....And I thought of Haiti...And I felt all the fear and all the sorrow of those poor people as the earth took them, one by one....And I realized, I am not ready to die. But the second realization was more startling than the first: whether I was ready or not, it really wasn't up to me. I guess it was the feeling of utter and complete helplessness that made me shake---and the shaking had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the earth was heaving underneath me.

"I have to get out of here!" I thought. If I was going to die, I didn't want to die like that---buried under rubble. And there was always the chance that someone else was outside on the path. Just to see another human face would be a consolation. I half-crawled, half-ran for my shoes (yes! I had the presence of mind to consider shoes!) and pryed the door open. The rumbling was subsiding. The path was clear. Was I the only one feeling this? I looked around. Then, I saw my very pregnant neighbour emerge on her front steps with a telephone in hand. Further down the way, a group of old ladies who'd been lounging about in one of their gardens were standing on the path looking around. They were all rattled, of course, but I was the only one who seemed to think death was imminent. I tried to put on a brave face as I went for my pregnant neighbour. She was kind enough to ask me how I was doing when I should have been the one to ask her; to suggest she sit down; to consider boiling water for her....Something....One of the nice old ladies down the path started walking towards me. I went towards her, again with the thought to comfort, and she ended up enfolding me in a huge hug and asking if I was o.k.  "Oh, you poor thing, you're shaking!" she said. "If you need anything, come to us. We're just out in the garden."

The shaking had stopped. All in all, the thing lasted 20 seconds. It felt like 20 minutes, at least. I sheepishly thanked all my neighbours and hobbled back home to make some phone calls and ensure all my loved one's were o.k. Satisfied, I sat down on the couch and stared blankly around for a long time. Even now, as I think about it, I'm amazed at how life can be blithely going in one direction and then, all of a sudden, completely change course. Ever since I turned 30, I've been thinking a lot about mortality. My mortality. Morbid, I know, but the thoughts will come. On an up-note, the earthquake really got me thinking about the need to make the most of every moment. And so I've been trying to do just that. One of my favourite quotes is from Pope John Paul II's fountain of wisdom and I think they adequately apply to now: "This is no time for sitting idly by in fearful mediocrity."