We
went to New Zealand. Here is the rest of the story.
17th
of November – Sunday – 2013 – entry 136
"How
in the world can a massive, heavy, metal bird lift above the earth
like this? My first overseas flight since I was two, and I got a good
one. It was rainy and overcast on the ground; the same clouds are now
under me, golden and whipped into frothy puffs of sunkissed glory.
This is wonderfully impossible. This is the stuff of my imagination.
Reality has hit the mark that my imagination made in the ether; now I
will have to dream up new things(...)"
18th
of November – Monday – 2013 – entry 137
"It
is hard to feel anything but awe when you are sitting by the shores
of one of the bluest glacial lakes you have ever seen. I'm here,
cold, in a lovely red jumper that is comfortingly warm, and I have
beside me a cup of plunger coffee. I'm on one of a series of boulders
that blotch the shore in a beautifully untidy splat, and I am alone.
I and God. I always thought that photographers touched up the photos
of these lakes to make them look bluer. Now I know God does the
touching up before they even take the photo. But you look- I look,
and all I see is the arm of God sweeping over this land. Ridged,
white-capped mountains edge, bold and silent, around the edge of the
lake, and the peaks on the far side are all but obscured behind a
heavenly curtain of cloud. How I wish more adjectives had been
invented before I saw all these things that cannot – will not
be described(...)"
19th
of November – Tuesday – 2013 – entry 138
"It
is a quarter past eight. A whole quarter past, and the Sun is still
up in the sky; it is setting, but it will be nine before it has set
completely. The motorhome is much too much too bumpy. I'll finish the
entry later.
...
Today
we walked along the Hooker Valley. This is a four-hour round trip
trail that meanders this way and that towards a silty little lake,
smattered with little icebergs, at the foot of Mt. Cook. The grandeur
is incomprehensible, literally. I stood there and wondered, then
walked for four hours staring up at the mountains (...) The peaks
always looked so close, but I never got closer to them, even with all
my walking (...)"
20th
of November – Wednesday – 2013 – entry 139
"Lord,
help me love. Campervanning is not easy. If ever anything tested my
character, it was campervanning with the whole family. Who you are in
a campervan is who you are. And when I forget you, God, I am the
worst. I love you, and help.
Today,
I opened up the window while we were driving along the top of
Dunedin. I let the icy wind just whip into my face and eyes while I
watched the moving landscape slope and roll all over my vision in the
purest greens and further out, the nostalgic blues. I've been reading
during our drives quite a lot since our first day, but it was lovely
to succumb to the sheer glory of closing my eyes and just knowing
that Heaven on Earth was spread before me."
21st
of November – Thursday – 2013 – entry 140
"BUTTERFLIES!
A beautiful, three-story green-house at the Dunedin Museum; it had a
little pond on the first floor, and then steps and bridges spiralled
about, and everywhere – butterflies. The room held possibly
thousands of them.
I
am now so in love with the greens and the blues and the sky and the
grass, and the beauty, beauty, beauty(...)"
23rd
of November – Saturday – 2013 – entry 141
I
don't know how to explain Milford Sound. I have completely run out of
adjectives to describe it; I'll try. The cruise we went on was a
two-hour ride that went from a dock through Milford Sound to the
Tasman Sea...Looking up, these huge, huge mountains towered over us
in greens and greys, rising out of the water to heights of one and a
half kilometres, and plunging 300 metres more below the surface of
the water. The water was deep and dark; looming rock overhangs
bouldered out metres and metres above us; spray from the dancing,
white waterfalls caught us as the boat went in close. Massive
hyperbolas were carved out of the mountains all around, evidence of
fearsome glaciers of indescribable weight, mass, depth, channelling
towards that great silky mass of water that sombrely and elegantly
moves out to sea. I didn't know places like that existed; I didn't
dare to hope that I would someday see what I saw today."
25th
of November – Monday – 2013 – entry 142
"I
got sick yesterday, and I got worse today; this is bad because the
feeling of having my head tightened into a vice seems to inhibit me
from enjoying and gasping at my surroundings.
This
afternoon, we parked the campervan across the road from the beginning
of a short but beautiful mossy, foresty track. Even in what I felt
was some half-state of delirium, I felt calmed and heart-warmed and
loved in the trees. Green bales of moss clung to and hung from the
soaked trees, rain pitter-patted through the leafy sky onto my muddy
sneakers. My nose was blocked, which is sad because I can imagine
that the smell of rain in a forest is one of the best things ever,
but I'm sure it will be in heaven, so I do not mind so much. I got to
taste it though, when drops spilled off my raincoat onto my
lips(...)"
27th
of November – Wednesday – 2013 – entry 143
"This
morning, we woke up on the side of the road to the almighty noise of
a coal train roaring past our campervan. Dad says I mumbled, "I
thought for a moment that it was the end of the world!" before
rolling over to snore a few times.
We
went to the pancake rocks today and got mistaken for locals by asian
tourists. They started taking photos of us as Dad confusedly stated,
"what...are you...doing?" I played along with peace signs
and exaggerated smiles. What they don't know won't hurt them, and
hey, all us white folk look the same, don't we? (...)"
29th
of November – Friday – 2013 – entry 144
"...We
have come to rest at a place just short of Akaroa called French Farm
Bay, (and speaking of rest, Jesus promises it if I come to him heavy
laden. Where have I been today when I should have been with Jesus for
goodness sake?!) The tide is out, leaving a plain of exposed, grey
rocks. There are so many shells scattered amongst them and there are
crabs underneath that dart back into the ground like shadows if you
turn them over, but it is so lovely just to stand at the grey and
blue centre of this broad funnel of luscious green landscape and
breathe; and then; if I close my eyes gently and be still, I can hear
the sound of a thousand little shell-dwellers moving, breathing,
opening, closing...I hardly know what to compare it to, except
perhaps the sound of rice bubbles when the milk has just been poured
in. This God I serve; he creates beautiful things and these beautiful
things give fleeting respite from the hard parts of life..."
1st
of December – Sunday – 2013 – entry 145
"We
are going home. What has been our house for the last two weeks is
ours no longer and I will sleep in my own bed tonight. Oh joy. I
believe that I will understand now how big and spacious our house is
now that I will have something to compare it to. I will not be living
out of a suitcase anymore and that is wonderful.
I
have loved New Zealand. I will come back one day."