This was an Easter with a difference. I was freshly back from a tour of Israel. My fifth such trip actually, but who is counting? Each time I go my heart is cracked open a little wider.
My office was hailing me on Easter Saturday: I needed to tidy up and write a few hundred letters. My Toyota was being used for a group tramp, but my son Zak’s girlfriend’s zippy little Mini Cooper was available for my use.
Inwardly serene, I drove down to town, enjoying the mild autumn weather and thinking about Jesus and the "day in between". Poised and in control, I thought, that’s what I am. I’ll restore order at the office this afternoon and celebrate the Resurrection tomorrow with an easy conscience.
Do you find (as indeed I do) that sometimes when you’re at your most composed and self-assured, the ground is whipped from beneath your feet? And you find yourself broken and vulnerable.
I work at Bracken Court in Moray Pl. Pulling in at the top of the alleyway down to the car park, I hopped out to open the electronic gates; I’ve done it so often over the past nearly 16 years that it warrants no thought. Back in my seat I put my foot down hard on the brake to secure the vehicle while I closed my door and clicked on my seatbelt as per usual.
Except. This car was unfamiliar. My foot mistakenly found the accelerator. The car shot forward, thrusting aside the slow-opening gates. Through a streak of panic I realised I was going to hit the corner of the building on the right hand side. Then I was in a washing machine, all blackness, twirling, shoving and exploding glass.
The car rolled, coming to rest upside down over the lower part of the split alleyway. I found myself lying on my back downwards, deep under the car.
Mangled metal, shards of glass, bits everywhere, but immediately it came to me: God, you’ve spared my life. Thank you, thank you. (Admittedly my second thought was not so lofty: now I’ve got to get my will sorted out)
People came running alerted by the car alarm, and were visibly relieved to see my head pop up and my hands reach out for help.
Two fire engines blocked off Moray Pl and I was loaded into an ambulance. You. Were. Very. Lucky. the officials kept saying.
At ED they found cuts, bruises and a spinal fracture. Necessitating welcome pain medication. And extensive rest, not my favourite (non-)activity.
Coming home I felt shocked and unmoored. Rendered utterly vulnerable in a moment, I felt frightened of what might lie in wait for me; how could the future be known and faced with confidence?
It is this that I want to tell you about. God was not a stranger to me; God is a friend. He has sat alongside me in my distress and fear and is leading me back to courage and good cheer.
Also, the goodness of folk has been impressed upon me again and again.
All those people who rushed to help, the medical professionals, my family, staff and friends I’ve seen God’s grace and kindness through all of them.
On Resurrection Sunday I remembered my favourite Easter charge. Pope John Paul II, quoting St Augustine of Hippo, said: "Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and Hallelujah is our song."
Amen from me. When the wheels fall off and the world seems like a scary, unfamiliar place, God, not a stranger, is comfortingly and ineffably there.
■Jenny Beck is a Dunedin lawyer.
