I thought I might cry as we drove through Marysville and Kinglake last week, Victorian towns ravaged by the February fires, surveying the damage and the massive clean-up work underway, but, like an intrigued, reluctant gawker at a roadside accident, we were too numb to feel. .. You just stare, shaking your head, grateful it wasn't you, too shocked to register the grief welling inside you. You drive on, in absolute silence. You are changed. Your senses are heightened and dulled in a mixed instance. It's too much to comprehend.
The bush to Kinglake is black, with the thick morning mist and no sunlight, its quite eerie. Though a few determined green shoots struggle through, it is mostly black trunks, brown leaves, devastation and lifelesness. Forest floors are littered with felled trees of 30 and 50 and 100 years of age. The township of Marysville is gone - demountables, tents, caravans and bare muddy ground void of a blade of grass stand where homes, shops, the policestation, the petrol station (which apparently went up like an atomic bomb) and parklands once stood.
On some now-cleared properties there are caravans perched amidst the muddy ground. or nothing but a clothesline to indicate once a family enjoyed residence here. These towns were ravaged during the fires and piles of twisted, burnt, destroyed building material lay at property entrances. It would take a lot of spirit to be able to do it - to rebuild - to start again. these are brave, brave people. One property sums it up simply by flying an Aussie flag on their gate as if to say, "its the Aussie spirit - true battlers!'. another home has a handwritten banner 'we will rebuild' in front of their watertank - the only thing left on their entire property. it is hearbreaking - entire townships wiped out, lives lost, homes gone, the charm and character of the towns impossible to retrieve or recreate.
Further on a sign reads 'caution, wildlife on roadside' - of course! where do the animals go? how many survived? what is their future..... i hadn't considered the animals until i saw that sign.
There is nowhere where trucks and machinery aren't working in mud. roads are filled with logging trucks attempting to make the bush safe again. men in flouro jackets swarm like bees at every property clearing, fencing, digging, sorting.
I am not sure what we expected on our return to Healesville, where we spent February volunteering in the crisis releif centre after the fires, but the place remains as eerie as it did in the wake of the fires. devastation amidst beauty - it leaves an observer in awe. it remains indescribable here.
The day before, as we drove up the mountains' winding roads as the sun filtered through the tall, black trunks, you could sense rebirth and hope. There was a kind of joy in the journey - as if knowing, however long the birthing process takes, there will be fruit. Yet, coming down in the mist and cold and fog, it sent shivers down our spines with the realisation of the magnitude of said journey. We aren't talking months here, we are talking years and years and years!
We visited friends at the relief centre (our second home), and no sooner did we walk in the door to a packed centre of fire victims, than we were commanded, 'don't just stand there - help!' and were thrown into helping a man who had, just that day (four months after losing EVERYTHING) moved into a flat and was beginning to get the basics of life - loo paper, toothpaste, kitchen stuff, some t-shirts. i mean its a time warp here. It is like time has stood still here in Healesville amidst the pain. These people are still living the reality of the fires most of the rest of us have forgotten.
A woman walks past the centre and tut-tuts to her friend, "Fire relief? That was months ago, tell 'em to get on with it." In a sad way it is a reflection of how we think once the shock of a crisis is over and our lives fall back into their comfortable normality with our consciences appeased by our 'donations' at the time - and we don't want to have it continuing to confront us. We're weird creatures at times.
Our days in Healesville were as rewarding as they were shocking. The friends, the volunteers, the bush and the beauty. It will always hold a special place in our hearts.
And we will be back.
We're Cruising Oz
Chrissy and Steve, travelling evangelist hippies, are an ‘untameable’ married couple who responded to Jesus' call to "GO - tell 'em I love 'em" by selling what we owned - except our 1985 LiteAce van affectionately known as Buzz - and hitting the road in February 2009.
We basically cruise this country helping individuals, communities and churches in whatever ways we’re able to tap into the love of God. We do this through helping, giving, clothing, feeding, cleaning, serving, encouraging, imparting, preaching, running seminars and anything else we can think of to creatively demonstrate God's love. We don’t see this so much as a ‘mission from God’ but more a natural expression of who we are!
God loves His kids and chose us to go and show ‘em – it’s that simple.