Tenx9

There is much about the night of 10 May 2012 that I have never shared. The night when my next door neighbour's home exploded and I had to run from my home for fear of being killed as my home disintegrated around me.

So what better time to share this than at Greenbelt, in a marquee in front of over 100 strangers? A group from Belfast called Tenx9, were running an evening. The premise is nine people have up to ten minutes to share a true story from their life. The theme for Saturday night was Change. With the encouragement and support from a few friends I decided to share some of my story.

Writing about the event meant remembering, walking through the night and the subsequent weeks. I remembered aspects that I had forgotten. It stirred up incredibly painful memories and emotions. To write around 1400 words took approximately 12-15 hours, around half a packet of tissues and a few more hours digging through some of the few belongings that had been returned to me. It has poked at another layer that I need to bring to Jesus and has encouraged me to write more about some of the emotions and issues I worked through, and am continuing to.

On the Saturday evening I began to feel nervous and anxious around an hour and half before the session. I took myself off and spent time in praise and prayer. This was one of the toughest talks I have undertaken yet. Every time I had practised my story I had wept. A lot! I am so incredibly thankful to Jesus for His peace, presence and words of encouragement. As I worshipped Jesus, He told me to ,'Take Courage, go in the strength you have.' 

I was incredibly nervous as I waited for the evening to begin, and searching for my friends to come and sit with me. As the evening began I realised who I would be speaking after, Ian Mobsy and Nadia Bolz-Webber. Authors and regular speakers at various events. Great, not much to follow. 

Without further ramblings, here is what I shared that Saturday night at Greenbelt. 

I heard a loud bang and looked up to locate its origin. What I saw was the top right hand corner of my lounge wall collapsing and I could see out onto the road. I thought the house was going to fall on top of me. My ‘flight’ response kicked in as I dashed out my front door praying, ‘God just let me get out of the house!’

I ran out onto the street. My next door neighbour’s house had been reduced to rubble. Those pictures you’ve seen from war-torn Countries where homes have been decimated by bombs? That is what I saw before me. I wanted to go back into the house to get some things whilst I could. But a neighbour said no-one should go into either of the houses that were next to the house that was no rubble. There was a girl standing on the rubble. I don’t know how she got there. The joining wall of my neighbour’s house had disappeared and I could see inside. All three floors were exposed. It felt like an intrusion into their privacy. I couldn’t look back at the damage of my home. Something stopped me. Like if I didn’t look at it, it hadn’t happened.

People from the street came out to see what was going on. In a daze I walked past inquisitive neighbours who were trying to find the cause of the loud bang, that shattered the peace at 6:40 on a Thursday evening. I sat on a wall at the end of the road. A stranger asked what happened. ‘My next door neighbour’s house collapsed- it’s just a pile of rubble’

I had run out of the house with nothing but thankfully I was wearing boots and a coat as I had been planning to leave to see some friends. The stranger asked if I wanted to borrow a phone to call for some help. The only phone number I could remember was my parents, who live over 100 miles away and at the time were on holiday overseas! He took me into his home so I could contact friends online.

Through Facebook I explained to my friend Paul what had happened and asked him to come and pick me up. As I waited for him to arrive the emergency services appeared. I spoke with a fireman and asked if he knew if I could get back into the house. He didn’t know, but said he’d ask. He never returned with an answer. Someone offered me a can of beer. I drank a few sips and left the can on the floor and walked away.

I don’t know how long it was until Paul picked me up. A policeman asked if I wanted to talk with the local press. I spouted something out, the Policeman clearly thought I must be in shock. I stated adamantly that God had saved us pointing to the sky recalling a rainbow I’d seen. He probably thought, ‘poor lass’, he told Paul to take me home and give me a sugary tea. ‘I don’t like tea!’ I exclaimed and stormed off.

Paul drove me back to his family home where his wife Nia greeted me with a hug. She fed me then took me shopping. All I had were the clothes on my back. The shock numbed any interest in shopping. My need overtook the luxury of choice. I didn’t care what it looked like. I just needed some clothes, a toothbrush, underwear, pyjamas, deodorant and socks.

The next few days were clouded in shock and denial. I felt numb and couldn’t take it in. Even after seeing photos of the explosion in the local and national press. And there was my dress, hanging in the spare bedroom for all to see as the back wall of the house was no longer there. The authorities reported that it was an explosion from a gas leak. A year later the investigation was closed – they never found the source of the leak. I’d contacted lots of people and explained to them what had happened. I spoke to my parents and they were coming down to see me. I asked them to give me a few days first.

 I spent time imagining where I’d go to collect belongings once I was allowed back into the house. The items that were precious to me. I knew exactly where they were, what I’d collect if they just gave me 5 minutes.  Paul took me back to the house and a structural engineer went in to collect my car keys. But he couldn’t tell me if I could go back in yet. Come back tomorrow. They could tell me more then. The following day when I returned to the house my hopes were destroyed like my neighbours home. It wasn’t safe for me to go in to retrieve anything. The house was standing up on 3 breeze blocks and it could collapse at any time. No, no, no this can’t be happening. The emotions overwhelmed me as I realised it had all gone. I’d lost everything. I walked away and felt pain. Just pain. I had never felt so much pain. I did not know what to do with it. I didn’t know how to show it, I wanted to let it out but did not know how.

I’d been out of work for 6 weeks. Benefits did not cover all my outgoings so at this point I had no contents insurance. I was renting the house but the majority of its contents were mine. I cut outgoings to pay my bills. I didn’t factor in the possibility of my next door neighbour’s house exploding. So what now?

I spent a month living with Paul’s family. They provided me with shelter, food and a safe place to rest. It was a distraction to help deal with some of the practical things. I had time with friends and family. But so many were wondering how to help me. People reflected their own fears back to me. They wanted to fix it. They wanted to help. They wondered how on earth they would deal with it if it happened to them. But I didn’t know how to deal with it. Besides, they didn’t have to deal with it. I did.

There was an occasion where Paul suggested one evening we watch a film, ‘Nanny McPhee and the Big Bang?’ he enquired. I laughed and said why not. I was able to laugh but had not yet really been able to cry.

 After a month living with Paul’s family I moved into a small furnished flat and began to grieve. I had to do this on my own. It was so raw, too raw to share. So much of what we think life should look like was not where I found myself. I knew I shouldn’t compare my life to others, but given the circumstances… I had no job, no family here, no insurance and no partner to comfort me. I didn’t really know where to start. How do you begin to live again after nearly dying and losing everything as well? I had no framework to work with. Where do you begin? Wondering how to rebuild life. Did I even want to rebuild? What was the point in rebuilding, it could all go tomorrow? There were times when the pain was paralysing. Would it ever stop hurting? People said, At least you’re alive’ I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be in the rubble. I imagined being back in the house and not running. Damn my flight response! If this was life I didn’t want it. I was just surviving. Just get through the day. Rebuilding would come later.

The house was demolished a few days after the explosion and workmen sifted through the rubble and collected some items for me to retrieve. Some people wonder about how much God is involved in the details of our lives, but as I picked up some of the cd’s that had been retrieved I laughed and cried as I saw some of the titles. One by Lynden David Hall, entitled, ‘Medicine for my pain’ Another by Blur entitled, ‘Modern Life is rubbish’ And the debut album by Shed Seven called, ‘Change Giver’ The explosion is not all of my story, but I’d forgotten how big an event it was, sharing this here has reminded me that it has changed me. I am not the same. It sometimes it feels like I’m talking about someone else, did that really happen to me? I’ve shared details I have never shared before and it has helped me to own it, this did happen, it is awful and my life changed with a big bang.