If I always had my own way—and it’s a good thing I don’t—it would always be sunny. There is nothing like the sunshine during a Nelson winter; enjoying cool, crisp days as I look out at the snow-dusted mountain ranges in the distance.
One summer day, though, on February 5, 2019, I held onto my seat as the water taxi bumped over the Tasman Sea back from one of my favorite places in the world, Abel Tasman Park. As I looked up at the sky, I saw the most enormous cloud of smoke I had ever seen rolling out to the sea. It was the beginning of a fire that took around a month to control. Forests were closed, and the authorities evacuated 3,000 people from the small town of Wakefield and the surrounding areas. As I walked around our farm, only about twenty kilometers from the fires, the grass under my feet was brown and almost non-existent, and it was eerily silent as all logging work had stopped with the extreme fire risk.
How I longed for rain then!
This week has been the opposite. It has been the wettest winter in years that I can remember. Mud has invaded dwellings and made them uninhabitable. Water has decimated roads, land has slipped, and houses have washed away. Many in Nelson are now homeless, including some of my friends. On my farm now we have a river where once there was a road. Although water brings life and grass for our animals, too much of it is not a good thing.
As much as I long to be in a permanent home rather than in our temporary container house, which I have been for years, I am reminded that nothing is guaranteed. I am reminded to be thankful that I am warm and dry.
For many ousted from their homes, this will not be so easy.
My heart goes out to them.
Philippians 4:8 “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent praiseworthy–think about such things.”
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