Yes.
On May 12, 2015 I felt the mountains tremble, and it is an experience that I am quite sure I will never forget. Like any traumatic event in a person’s life, the details of that day are simultaneously seared with laser-like precision into the deepest alcoves of my mind’s eye and also strangely dreamlike in my most focused efforts at recalling the memory. Sometimes I can picture the whole scene so clearly that it feels as though I must be back on that mountaintop all over again. And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever be able to look back on that day without reliving in fierce vividness all of the mind-numbing confusion and gut-wrenching emotion that I experienced.
May 12, 2015. Sindhupalchowk, Nepal – 20 KM from the epicentre of the 7.3 earthquake.
The earthquake.
Today, we were cleaning our lunch dishes…and the earth literally began to shake beneath us.
The earthquake.
Not the one that happened in the next country over, crushing people we didn’t know and toppling buildings we hadn’t walked into…but the one that we were in.
I was here, Lord. I was standing on the side of a mountain in the middle of Nepal when the very ground beneath my feet began to move…and I was scared.
I watched clouds of dust pop up all over the surrounding mountainsides and the valley below as walls crumbled and buildings collapsed all around us.
I heard them.
Not just the groanings of giant rocks as their foundations trembled and unshakeable mountains began to quake…
I heard them.
I heard the people, YOUR people.
Your precious, beloved children, Your treasured creation.
I heard them screaming. I heard the roar of families and villages shouting to one another in alarm and fear.
They were screaming, shouting, crying for You. And for seconds that felt like hours,
I listened.
I watched and I felt and I listened, and found that I could do little else.
I cried, and I prayed.
I prayed and prayed and prayed and screamed wordless prayers to the God whose unfailing love will not be shaken, even when everything else is.
How do I reconcile this, Lord? That all of a sudden nothing really seems as sure and stable as I once believed it to be – not even the ground beneath my feet?
On Christ the Solid Rock I stand.
We arrived in the small village on May 11th, trekking down the mountain with our packs full of supplies for 3-4 days and our hearts full of eager anticipation to serve the Nepali people who welcomed us with open and hopeful arms. That first night we set up camp around the rubbled remains of the church that we would be rebuilding during our visit and soaked in the awe of the Lord’s beautiful creation. The evening eventually ended with a small group of night owls worshipping and watching a storm from the small space between the crumbled bricks and tin roof of the church.
The next morning we ate a quick breakfast and got right to work forming assembly lines of rubble-clearing crews…and it all just seemed so normal. That is exactly how I would describe the morning of May 12th – normal. Our squad worked together like a well-oiled machine, we were joined by the Nepali pastor whose church we were going to rebuild, and the fresh mountain air whispered of a new beginning for these people, these mountains, and this beautiful country. A little before noon we took a break to enjoy a delicious lunch that the locals in this tiny mountain village had insisted on preparing for us. We ate, we hydrated, and we enjoyed the incredible view that was perhaps only surpassed in beauty by the company. Normal. Then, in a matter of seconds, any trace of normalcy was erased from that day and May 12, 2015 became a date that I will never forget.
I was off a little ways from the majority of our group, having gotten up to wash mine and Stacie’s lunch dishes. I don’t know how long it took me to realize that the ground was shaking. I might have fallen down or instinctively crouched down low to the ground, but I’m pretty sure that I just stood there in complete shock. There were a few other people on the little stretch of ridge that had become a pathway connecting our jerry-rigged tarp-tent to the ‘kitchen’ area and nearby tents. I know this, but no matter how many times I try to picture it, I only ever remember Mason. He was standing next to me, and I think that maybe we were mid-sentence in a passing conversation when the mountain started to move. I simply can’t describe in words what it feels like when all that is supposed to be sure and stable starts to shake beneath your feet, but many of us re-lived the experience countless times in the days and weeks that followed. You learn to keep a bottle of water on you at all times so that when it feels like the earth is shaking you can set the bottle on the ground, see that the water isn’t moving, and remind yourself that the world is still a relatively safe place.
But it was the sound that will haunt me for the rest of my life. The cries of panic and roar of screams echoed up from the valley below us for much longer than the actual earthquake lasted. It was that roar that I will never forget. It was that sound that triggered the mind-numbing realization that spilled out of my quivering lips over and over and over again – those are people. I know that I started to cry. There are people down there. People.
All Mason could say in reply was, ‘I know. I know. I know.’
Usually in stressful situations, I am the strong one. The leader. The one who holds it together in front of the group and comforts everyone else before breaking down myself. But this time was different. The Lord had been reminding me of a valuable principle that came to mind as I grabbed my Bible, sat down on the side of the mountain that had finally stopped shaking, and sobbed.
2 Chronicles 20:12 says,
“We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on You.”
So I turned my eyes to Him.
My teammates graciously packed up my things for me as I cried and prayed for the people down in that valley, for the country of Nepal, and for my squad – a family that had already been entrusted with more pain and trauma than we ever expected to encounter. I had no idea what to do, but my eyes were – and ever will be – on Jesus.
Through it all, through it all,
my eyes are on You.
And through it all, through it all,
it is well.
It is well with me.
And this is still my prayer for the people of Nepal as they continue to recover and rebuild after the disasters that rocked this beautiful nation to its core – that they would turn their eyes to the one true God. I am confident that when they do, He will meet their wavering, frightened gaze with His strong and steady one. I pray for restoration, for revival in Nepal. I left a part of my heart in that country, captivated by the ways that Jesus is moving in the streets of Kathmandu and the villages of Sindhupalchowk. I ask you to join in me in continuing to pray for this country.
“You have shaken the land and torn it open;
mend its fractures, for it is quaking.”
(Psalm 60:2)
I know this was a long one, but thanks for hanging in there, friends. Stay tuned for another blog about the bravery and courage I saw in my squad during our time in Nepal, both before and after the earthquake. I am so grateful to be a part of this amazing group of people!
With love and wanderlust,
Cassady
One of the hardest parts of Nepal was leaving the people and realizing that this is their life. They can’t pack up their belongings and leave – this is their home. I am in awe of the bravery and courage that the Nepali people exemplified for us during our time with them.
