On Tuesday night, the most powerful typhoon to hit Japan in 25 years came through the Sapporo area. I spent much of Tuesday bringing plants inside and securing things in the garden. Then I put in my earplugs and tried to sleep. The earplugs didn’t block out the house shaking, though.
Wednesday, Keith painted the living room ceiling. This had been on the to-do list for… oh, a year or so. I met a friend for dinner in Sapporo; I made my way home amidst a dramatic lightning storm as the typhoon bid us farewell. I was tired (no sleep the night before), so I went straight to bed.
And… no sleep for Keith and Celia Wednesday night, either. We woke up to the house shaking again—a large earthquake—shortly after 3 a.m. Thursday morning. As my cell phone’s earthquake warning blared, I fumbled around in the dark for the light switch. We stumbled downstairs on shaky legs to have a look around; the extent of the “damage” was that a few lightweight things, such as our rice cooker scoop, fell over. Earthquakes aren’t exactly uncommon around here, but this was big by Hokkaido standards, and the biggest we’ve ever experienced. This one was about 80 kilometers away, magnitude 6.7. (And since I was half-asleep and disoriented, I can’t really remember much about the earthquake itself.)
The power blinked off, then back on again. We went back to bed, but didn’t sleep much, since the aftershocks came one after another. After one large aftershock, the fan switched off, leaving us in stifling heat, so we knew the power had gone out again.
I got out of bed around 6:00, bleary eyed. I went to make coffee… and no water from the tap. I hadn’t bothered to fill up the hot water pot or top off the Brita pitcher the night before, as is my usual bedtime routine. Yikes. I checked the fridge: three jugs of water and iced tea would tide us over until the water came back on. And the gas stove worked. Coffee was back on the menu!
At about 7:00, I walked over to see if I could get us some more drinks at the convenience store. Cars lined both sides of the street, and even with the lights out I could see a line of people winding all the way around the store. I gave up and went home. I took quick look around the outside of the house, and I noticed we had lost a few more bits of mortar off our chimney, but I wasn’t sure if that had been caused by the earthquake or the typhoon.
Keith came downstairs into the empty living room. All the furniture had been moved into the dining room except for a tall bookshelf, earthquake supports removed for painting (the only time since we moved in). Keith looked up at the bookshelf. “That could have been bad,” he observed. But the bookshelf, and all the books, were exactly where we had left them. Seeing pictures of overturned furniture and broken roads from others on Facebook, we realized we had been extremely fortunate.
I had fleeting thoughts of getting work done, except that my laptop was where I left it the night before, in my bag, unplugged. With near-dead batteries on my laptop, not to mention dead tired, I wasn’t going to be getting much work done. Traffic lights weren’t working, so going anywhere would be a pain, gas was scarce, and we heard of roads messed up by the quake in some parts of Sapporo. So I responded to messages from concerned people, checked in with some friends, and then gave up on the thought of work.
It seems that most of our neighborhood came to the same conclusion I did. Plenty of people had been dispatched to help those in need closer to the epicenter, so the best thing for those of us in Ishikari to do was to help each other out and stay out of the way. Can’t work, can’t go anywhere, power’s off, nothing to do, and the weather’s great; SEIZE THE DAY. People milled around on the streets, while animated voices and laughter wafted out of open windows. Families and friends shared stories and pooled resources for meals. (It’s harvest season in Ishikari; it’s not like anyone was going to go hungry.) Children played outside, delighted at an unforeseen holiday from school. Eventually after we recovered a trickle of water, (after I filled up every jug in the house) I did some gardening, and saw others on our block doing the same. In a nearby park, amidst trees uprooted by the typhoon, Keith spotted a father and son together catching bugs. The atmosphere was altogether like a holiday, but with no TV to distract anyone from uninterrupted family time. I almost felt guilty for thoroughly enjoying the day. Almost.
Keith and I ate hotdogs on the patio as we watched the sunset. One by one the stars appeared in the cloudless, moonless sky, brilliant above the dark city. Neighbors stood in the street, looking up, giving expression to their awe in hushed voices. I fiddled with my camera, trying (and failing) to get a good shot. Keith, who has been memorizing various Psalms, recited:
O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. Out of the mouth of babies and infants, you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger. When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him? Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You have made him ruler over the works of your hands; you have put all things under his feet, all flocks and herds, and animals of the wild, the birds of the sky, and the fish of the sea, and all that swim the paths of the seas. O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
In the midst of a disaster, we had been spared—more than spared, we were completely unscathed. Joy at this undeserved grace and the glory of God revealed in his creation welled up in my soul—but it was a joy made complicated by grief, since 80 kilometers away, people and houses were lost in landslides. Does this mean we shouldn’t rejoice and give thanks? I think not. There is so much to be thankful for.
(A week on, things are mostly back to normal in Ishikari, except that milk is scarce, and the grocery store is less stocked than usual. We still have frequent aftershocks. Recovery efforts continue closer to the epicenter. Please pray for those who lost loved ones, homes, possessions, and a sense of safety. And we could all do with some uninterrupted sleep.)
No comments:
Post a Comment