A couple of years ago, Melinda (my teammate) and I attended the European Women’s Conference put together by some of our missionaries in Western Europe. The conference was held in a little town near Malaga, Spain. Any of the women from our mission agency working in Western or Eastern Europe were invited to attend. When we had all arrived and started introducing ourselves to each other, it was wonderful to meet not only American women but a several European women who are with our agency as well. We were a wonderful mix of young and not so young, married and single, those who were new to the field and those who had served for many years. Because of my husbands’ position as team leader in our city in Ukraine, he and I had traveled together to a few other meetings where I had met several of the women before. It was great to catch up a little with them and then to meet new friends as well.
Our hotel was located right across the street from the shore of the Mediterranean Sea. Melinda and I shared a room and were fortunate to be assigned one on the sixth floor, facing kind of to the east with a view of the city, a portion of the beach and in the distance the tall coastal mountains. The weather did not live up to the name of the coast – the Sun Coast –we had rain and purplish gray clouds almost every day. But our view was beautiful none-the-less. We spent most of our three days in meetings of one sort or another, in talking with others in the lobby or a café, or in site seeing in the city or a nearby village not far away on the mountain.
One afternoon during our free time, I decided to go far a walk along the beach. I’ve tried to walk between 30 and 50 miles every month for the past three or four years. So far, if I’m NOT in the States, I almost always make my goal. During the conference I’d been sitting so much I just need to get out and walk alone for a while. I wanted to walk along the sea, listen to the seagulls crying overhead and the waves lapping (they don’t crash on the beach there like they do on the Pacific beaches!) I had walked a little more than a mile down the beach on the sand or sidewalk when it began to sprinkle again. I left the beach and crossed over the main highway through town. I thought I’d take a quieter route than just walking back up the main highway with all its noisy cars, trucks and tourists walking around. I went one block farther inland and turned back toward the hotel. Not three minutes later, the sky opened up and the heavens poured out buckets and buckets of rain. Cold rain. Rain so intense that walking through the narrow streets paved with cobblestones, the water began to rise and in many places soon covered the tops of my shoes. I was soaked from head to toe. I loved it. I made it back to the hotel, changed into dry clothes and arrived at the next meeting just in time.
Most people probably associate Spain with lots of sunshine but I associate it with rain.
Melinda and I had a typical European room, meaning we each had our own bed and bedding, but they were side by side, up against each other and looked at first like a double bed, not two twins. We have all grown accustomed to this, living in Ukraine and traveling in Europe on occasion. One of the best things about our room was that we could leave our balcony door open a few inches every night. As the traffic grew quiet in the late evening, we went to sleep with the sound of the waves, higher and stronger in the storms, washing up on shore every night.
Our last night there, I suddenly woke up. It is a rare occurrence when I am not fully aware of exactly where I am when I awake. This night was no different. I immediately opened my eyes, and thought, “Who could be knocking at our door?” Then I realized it was the bathroom door I was hearing, rattling just slightly, but enough to wake me up. I thought sleepily to myself, “I should go shut the balcony door, the wind must be blowing really hard and making the bathroom – and now – the door into the hall rattle.” The bed began to shake, just a little. I was wide-awake then. I’d lived in Alaska long enough to know very well what was happening. Earthquake. I figured that if it got any stronger I would run to the bathroom and stand in the doorway. And wake up Melinda, of course, if she was still asleep!
It did get a little stronger, but I’d been in bigger ones. I just lay there and enjoyed the ride. I’m one of those strange people who happen to think that if nothing bad seems to be happening, earthquakes are actually a lot of fun. Just think of what is happening! The earth itself is moving – our stable, usually never changing earth is moving, groaning, creeping itself into a new position. Maybe the mountains to the north of us were growing a millimeter, or maybe this part of the coast was inching itself a teeny bit farther away from Africa to the south. I wondered what was happening deep inside the earth. If I were God, I would be able to see the rocks splitting, and shifting and moving away from each other. But as a human, I could only imagine it. And I did. I also wondered sleepily if this was a local tremor that was precursor to a big quake, or if there was a big quake far away and we were just feeling some of the waves from it. The earthquake was soon over and I drifted quickly back to sleep, praying there would not be a bigger one.
The next morning I was awake before Melinda, which is very unusual. But I was excited. I knew that there was a computer with internet access in the lobby and that after paying for a few minutes of time, I could look it up and find out how big the quake had been. I check the USGS Earthquake page several times a week and am signed up to receive email notification of quakes over 4.0 around the world (see link at right). I have been interested in this part of geology for years. Downstairs I soon discovered that the quake had been a 6.0, centered in Morocco a short distance across the Mediterranean Sea to the south and a little west of us. I quickly went back upstairs to finish packing – we were leaving in just a few hours.
Melinda was up and packing. I asked her, “Melinda, did you feel the earthquake last night?” And she responded:
“Earthquake?!? I thought you were just wiggling around in your bed!”
We have both laughed over that several times since then. The pictures it brings to my mind … wiggle, wiggle. Oh dear!
I was saddened to learn, after arriving back home in Ukraine and checking the internet news, that more than 600 people were killed in Morocco during that earthquake.
It is always amazing to me that when something happens, something like an earthquake or a big storm or something equally as impacting, it all depends on your perspective as to what really happened - whether it was good or bad, fun or horrible.
photo from: www.usaid.gov/.../ alhoceimaearthquake.html
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