This has been a hard post to write. To be honest, even now, it seems a near-impossible task to choose the right words for all that has happened. But I'm going to try, knowing that it won't be perfect, and that's OK. And that how we feel about our experiences, and what they teach us, continues to grow and evolve with the passing of time.
As my last post indicated, our time in Nepal as a team had been wonderful. Filled with old and new relationships, being greatly encouraged and challenged by the faith of our Nepali brothers and sisters in Christ, as well as the missionaries over there, and absolutely overwhelmed by their open arms in sharing their lives with us, both the joys and the struggles. We had our eyes opened to life in a culture significantly different from our own, and were able to see even a glimpse into the amazing things God has been, and is, doing in Nepal - particularly over the last 60 years.
We also grew very close as a team. We shared jokes (so many!), songs, sickness, tiredness, stories, food, games, thoughts, encouragements, fun... we shared life. Trips like this can be such a joyful, intense experience of closeness and shared experiences. This was certainly what we found! I found myself growing so sad to leave Nepal once again. Sad to stop living with the people in our little short-term team that I'd so grown to love.
We'd had a week in Surkhet and a week in Pokhara. On January 13th, the five of us hopped onto a mini-van for our trip back to Kathmandu, where we'd spend a few days, and then back to Australia. It had been a good trip! Everyone was feeling well, and we were taking photos, laughing, singing songs and having little naps. But at around 3pm in the afternoon, our mini-van was hit by a bus coming in the opposite direction. It hit the right side of our vehicle, just behind the driver's seat. Two of my friends on the team were seriously injured, and one of my friends died.
The few brief moments after the impact are still so clear to me. A huge smash of glass, followed by a confused and almost eerie silence. The engine had stopped, so suddenly. No one was crying out. It was only when I spun around to my right, to try to even work out what had just happened, that I started to realise. From that moment, there was a lot more noise and chaos, and by God's grace alone, surrounded by his provision and his arms of comfort, we were somehow able to get through the strange, grief-filled, unreality of the next five days.
It's hard to put words to the events, thoughts and emotions of the last five months. Deep sorrow at the loss of our beautiful, sweet, dearly-loved friend. Yet knowing comfort, peace and a deep, rich joy in the certain knowledge of where she is. Sharing what would have been her 24th birthday with her family, really struggling with the fact that I was there and she wasn't. Sadness in watching my other friends on the team come to terms with their injuries - physical and emotional... yet such thankfulness and encouragement at their strong faith in their Saviour. Weird feelings of sadness and guilt that my life has somehow returned to being mostly "normal" after all that's happened. Knowing that her beautiful family still deeply feel the absence of their treasured daughter and sister every single day. Feeling like every day I now live is on borrowed time... then realising I've been living on borrowed time all along. I just know it now. Knowing in a much more visceral way that God is in control. All things are in his hands... and he loves us. I've seen anew the power of prayer. God hears, and answers. We've felt God's arms around us, comforting us, and reminding us of who he is. And he is good.
Unspeakably, unceasingly good.
But I think the biggest thing I've learnt is the gospel. All over again, and so much deeper. This is a sad world, broken by sin... and none of us knows the number of our days. My friend was beautiful, smart, kind and full of promise. We all feel deep down that death is wrong. Horribly wrong. But that is why Jesus Christ came, lived, died for us, and rose again. And because he is risen, my friend who trusted in his name alone, is with him right now. She's with Jesus, free of sorrow, pain and suffering, and will be forever and ever. This is why we tell people about Jesus! This is the beauty and hope of the gospel.
We sang Brooke Fraser's "Desert Song" a lot on our trip. Not everyone on the team even
knew it at the start, but it seemed to become a really special song for us. I'll always remember my friend's sweet voice singing it. We were singing it together in a hospital room a couple of days before heading back to Australia... It was emotional, but we were reminded that, as children of the living God, "this is our prayer in the fire; through weakness or trial or pain - there is a faith proved of more worth than gold. So refine me Lord, through the flame."
It's exactly five months today since the accident.
Sending
you our love, my precious friend, and sister in Christ. We all miss you
so much, and will always remember you. I'm so thankful to God for you, and all he did in and through you. I am so looking forward to the day when I see you again.
All of our lives, in every season, he is still God, and we have a reason to sing...
we have a reason to worship.
We really do.
