Preface
Today it is exactly three years since Erin’s accident and a loss as profound as the loss of a child gives pause to reflect on all aspects of life. Time does not heal. Nothing can heal the terror of a young life wrenched from us. Time simply puts distance between the present and the past and numbs the pain that, despite outward appearances, simmers just below the surface, an open festering wound.
The reflections that follow are not an end-point, but are a milepost in a long journey – the road very much less travelled, for which there is no map or guide book. To all who have accompanied us on this journey, we are grateful beyond words for your empathy, listening ears, cups of tea, nods and tears, times of sitting together silently, engaging with our rants and ramblings, repetition and remembrances. These reflections are an invitation to continue the conversation and, hence, the journey. For life goes on and so too must we.
Excerpts below in italics were written by my Dad as part of a book he began to write following Erin’s accident.
----------------ooo-----------------
Midnight St Francis Bay: South Africa, GrandpaMidnight two days before Christmas. I was suddenly awake. The bedroom light was on. A figure was standing in the doorway. My grandson, James? Was he sleep walking? My pal Bill at boarding school used to walk in his sleep, and I would gently lead him back to bed. Now James was speaking, but his racing teenage-speak didn’t make sense. He slowed down, he calmed his obvious anxiety, and I heard: “Mom has had an SMS from Michael, from Vancouver. He says Erin has had an accident. Please pray.” Having delivered his message James switched off my light and went back to his bed. In the dark I pictured the plump, athletic, seven-year- old girl’s body bouncing head first off a trampoline, or crashing dangerously from the monkey bars. She lived adventurously. I did the sums - midnight in South Africa, eleven hours behind us in Vancouver - 11.00 a.m. And I prayed.
Growing up
Where do we turn to in times of trouble? Having grown up the son of a Presbyterian minister, a product of South African “Christian National Education”, strongly influenced by my mother’s Calvinistic work ethic, faith played a key part of my upbringing. It was not overbearingly evangelical or intolerant, but formed a firm, secure backdrop to who we are, and how we are to live; who I was and how I aspired to live. My faith steered my career and life decisions, the ‘purpose’ or ‘will’ of God always part of the decision-making process. It was only natural, then, to turn immediately to God when I heard of Erin’s accident. Please pray… I called my church, I texted my family, I prayed. I had absolutely no doubt that Erin would be fine and that she would come through this.
1am St Francis Bay: South Africa GrandpaThe next message from Mike came an hour later. “Paramedics on the scene. She is marginal.” Then within minutes: “Helicopter arrived. A huge team effort to help Erin. I am overwhelmed at what people are doing to help her. Paramedics on the scene. More paramedics being air lifted in. No news on her condition yet.” So the news filtered through to our South African family - my two daughters, my son- in-law, four grandchildren, and myself, all on a sea-side holiday together at St. Francis Bay. Finally Mike spoke to his sister on the phone and managed to stammer out that Erin had died in a landslide of rocks on the mountain side above Lion’s Bay.
She was the only one in her hiking group touched.
The journey from certaintyMy faith was very important to me and formed many of the qualities I hold dear. I identified myself as a Christian and, as a teenager, was involved in Youth Work. I played in, and led, worship music groups and as a young adult became an elder in our church. My faith was steadfast and firm. Growing up I developed an understanding of Christianity from the various readings, sermons, Bible studies and discussions that I experienced. Fundamental to this understanding were some key tenants about the nature of God including: God is a loving God (our Father); He is in control; God has a plan and purpose for my life; God cares for me as an individual and is intimately involved in my life; I draw strength from my union (close relationship) with God. In addition, I came to understand that prayer is a vehicle to get close to God in order to understand His will, to get a sense of the purpose He has for me, and to understand His will as it applies to my life.
Consequently, during my adult life, I would prayerfully consider life’s decisions in the light of these points, and daily I would pray for my children, for their safety and life’s purpose, for their futures. One of my keystone bible verses was Psalm 121 “I lift up my eyes to the mountains; where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” (NIV). There seems to be a vindictive irony in this, that the mountains took my girl and have shaken my faith to the core.
Since Erin’s accident, I have been grappling with some key questions: “What is the nature of God?”; “What is the purpose of faith?”; “What is the purpose of prayer?”; “How does prayer work?”; “What is truth?” I used to be fairly certain of the answer to these questions; now I am less sure, maybe not sure at all or even very unsure. What was once black and white to me has become very grey indeed. Erin’s accident is the catalyst for this change, because, from my faith perspective, either God made Erin’s accident happen, God allowed it to happen, or God had nothing to do with it at all. Each of these alternatives challenge my faith with consequences I find incongruent with the aforementioned key tenants.
I fully accept that having a faith is not an insurance policy against hardship and that, for random events, statistically the believer and the atheist have an equal chance of good and bad things happening.
If God is in control and makes all things happen, then I have to believe that He made the accident happen. This idea is congruent with God being in control and having a plan and purpose for my life, and for Erin’s. But, how does this correlate with a loving and caring God who is our Father? And why would a caring God do something like this? To Erin? To us? The very notion seems to contradict the concept of a loving and caring God, intimately involved in our lives. If God allowed the accident to happen, this implies a passive bystander God who is powerless to intervene and simply observes. This contradicts the belief I held that God is in control. It also questions the idea of a loving God with a purpose for our lives. I cannot believe that Erin’s purpose on earth was to experience her life cut short like this. One book sent to me as a ‘comfort’ implied that God either causes or allows bad things to happen as a punishment or as a warning so that we are drawn closer to Him. If this is the case, I am not clear who was being punished – Erin? Me? Elizabeth? Cameron? Our families? - and certainly it has not worked at drawing us closer to God. The third option is that God had nothing to do with Erin’s accident. However, we then cannot take the view that God is in control, or that He has a plan and purpose for our lives. This then extends to the ‘intimately involved in our lives’ assumption.
Overall, this final point of view seems to me to be the most acceptable and palatable option. This would allow me to believe that there is a creator who has set the universe in motion, that the universe obeys the laws of nature and that there is nothing that the creator can do to change these laws, or to intervene when they are set in motion. If this is the case, then I need to re-visit the key tenants of my faith and re-work my understanding of the purpose of faith and prayer.
In Physics, the subject I teach, we have a number of ‘laws’ that explain how things work: Newton’s laws of motion, the Ideal Gas Laws, the law of conservation are a few. Each of these laws is based on a set of assumptions that define their limitations. As long as we work within the confines of these assumptions, the limitations have little overall effect. In determining the application of a theory, scientists apply the principle: “When is good enough, good enough?” For example, Newton’s laws of motion work well enough as long as we ignore air resistance and do not move too fast. Close to the speed of light, we need a different set of laws or equations and so relativistic physics takes over. Similarly, the Ideal Gas Laws are based on a set of assumptions, each of which is flawed: the Ideal Gas Laws work well enough as long as we do not work at the extremes of pressure and temperature as they break down under those conditions.
In Science we search for a ‘theory of everything’, a single theory that explains it all and works under all conditions. Until then we have to make do with a number of different, and often contradictory, theories each based on the question “When is good enough, good enough?”
And so it is with my faith – under extreme conditions it has been found wanting. The assumptions or ‘truths’ on which it was based have not worked – my faith has not sustained me through this, the most traumatic of events. And if it can’t sustain me now, I ask myself, what is the point? If I am to have a faith it cannot be the simplistic faith of BE (Before Erin) that works because it works most of the time. I have to have a faith that can withstand extremes, that takes high temperatures and pressure and does not falter. I need the equivalent of a theory of everything. Until then, I have moved beyond being black and white, and am OK with the grey.
Today it is exactly three years since Erin’s accident and a loss as profound as the loss of a child gives pause to reflect on all aspects of life. Time does not heal. Nothing can heal the terror of a young life wrenched from us. Time simply puts distance between the present and the past and numbs the pain that, despite outward appearances, simmers just below the surface, an open festering wound.
The reflections that follow are not an end-point, but are a milepost in a long journey – the road very much less travelled, for which there is no map or guide book. To all who have accompanied us on this journey, we are grateful beyond words for your empathy, listening ears, cups of tea, nods and tears, times of sitting together silently, engaging with our rants and ramblings, repetition and remembrances. These reflections are an invitation to continue the conversation and, hence, the journey. For life goes on and so too must we.
Excerpts below in italics were written by my Dad as part of a book he began to write following Erin’s accident.
----------------ooo-----------------
Midnight St Francis Bay: South Africa, GrandpaMidnight two days before Christmas. I was suddenly awake. The bedroom light was on. A figure was standing in the doorway. My grandson, James? Was he sleep walking? My pal Bill at boarding school used to walk in his sleep, and I would gently lead him back to bed. Now James was speaking, but his racing teenage-speak didn’t make sense. He slowed down, he calmed his obvious anxiety, and I heard: “Mom has had an SMS from Michael, from Vancouver. He says Erin has had an accident. Please pray.” Having delivered his message James switched off my light and went back to his bed. In the dark I pictured the plump, athletic, seven-year- old girl’s body bouncing head first off a trampoline, or crashing dangerously from the monkey bars. She lived adventurously. I did the sums - midnight in South Africa, eleven hours behind us in Vancouver - 11.00 a.m. And I prayed.
Growing up
Where do we turn to in times of trouble? Having grown up the son of a Presbyterian minister, a product of South African “Christian National Education”, strongly influenced by my mother’s Calvinistic work ethic, faith played a key part of my upbringing. It was not overbearingly evangelical or intolerant, but formed a firm, secure backdrop to who we are, and how we are to live; who I was and how I aspired to live. My faith steered my career and life decisions, the ‘purpose’ or ‘will’ of God always part of the decision-making process. It was only natural, then, to turn immediately to God when I heard of Erin’s accident. Please pray… I called my church, I texted my family, I prayed. I had absolutely no doubt that Erin would be fine and that she would come through this.
1am St Francis Bay: South Africa GrandpaThe next message from Mike came an hour later. “Paramedics on the scene. She is marginal.” Then within minutes: “Helicopter arrived. A huge team effort to help Erin. I am overwhelmed at what people are doing to help her. Paramedics on the scene. More paramedics being air lifted in. No news on her condition yet.” So the news filtered through to our South African family - my two daughters, my son- in-law, four grandchildren, and myself, all on a sea-side holiday together at St. Francis Bay. Finally Mike spoke to his sister on the phone and managed to stammer out that Erin had died in a landslide of rocks on the mountain side above Lion’s Bay.
She was the only one in her hiking group touched.
The journey from certaintyMy faith was very important to me and formed many of the qualities I hold dear. I identified myself as a Christian and, as a teenager, was involved in Youth Work. I played in, and led, worship music groups and as a young adult became an elder in our church. My faith was steadfast and firm. Growing up I developed an understanding of Christianity from the various readings, sermons, Bible studies and discussions that I experienced. Fundamental to this understanding were some key tenants about the nature of God including: God is a loving God (our Father); He is in control; God has a plan and purpose for my life; God cares for me as an individual and is intimately involved in my life; I draw strength from my union (close relationship) with God. In addition, I came to understand that prayer is a vehicle to get close to God in order to understand His will, to get a sense of the purpose He has for me, and to understand His will as it applies to my life.
Consequently, during my adult life, I would prayerfully consider life’s decisions in the light of these points, and daily I would pray for my children, for their safety and life’s purpose, for their futures. One of my keystone bible verses was Psalm 121 “I lift up my eyes to the mountains; where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” (NIV). There seems to be a vindictive irony in this, that the mountains took my girl and have shaken my faith to the core.
Since Erin’s accident, I have been grappling with some key questions: “What is the nature of God?”; “What is the purpose of faith?”; “What is the purpose of prayer?”; “How does prayer work?”; “What is truth?” I used to be fairly certain of the answer to these questions; now I am less sure, maybe not sure at all or even very unsure. What was once black and white to me has become very grey indeed. Erin’s accident is the catalyst for this change, because, from my faith perspective, either God made Erin’s accident happen, God allowed it to happen, or God had nothing to do with it at all. Each of these alternatives challenge my faith with consequences I find incongruent with the aforementioned key tenants.
I fully accept that having a faith is not an insurance policy against hardship and that, for random events, statistically the believer and the atheist have an equal chance of good and bad things happening.
If God is in control and makes all things happen, then I have to believe that He made the accident happen. This idea is congruent with God being in control and having a plan and purpose for my life, and for Erin’s. But, how does this correlate with a loving and caring God who is our Father? And why would a caring God do something like this? To Erin? To us? The very notion seems to contradict the concept of a loving and caring God, intimately involved in our lives. If God allowed the accident to happen, this implies a passive bystander God who is powerless to intervene and simply observes. This contradicts the belief I held that God is in control. It also questions the idea of a loving God with a purpose for our lives. I cannot believe that Erin’s purpose on earth was to experience her life cut short like this. One book sent to me as a ‘comfort’ implied that God either causes or allows bad things to happen as a punishment or as a warning so that we are drawn closer to Him. If this is the case, I am not clear who was being punished – Erin? Me? Elizabeth? Cameron? Our families? - and certainly it has not worked at drawing us closer to God. The third option is that God had nothing to do with Erin’s accident. However, we then cannot take the view that God is in control, or that He has a plan and purpose for our lives. This then extends to the ‘intimately involved in our lives’ assumption.
Overall, this final point of view seems to me to be the most acceptable and palatable option. This would allow me to believe that there is a creator who has set the universe in motion, that the universe obeys the laws of nature and that there is nothing that the creator can do to change these laws, or to intervene when they are set in motion. If this is the case, then I need to re-visit the key tenants of my faith and re-work my understanding of the purpose of faith and prayer.
In Physics, the subject I teach, we have a number of ‘laws’ that explain how things work: Newton’s laws of motion, the Ideal Gas Laws, the law of conservation are a few. Each of these laws is based on a set of assumptions that define their limitations. As long as we work within the confines of these assumptions, the limitations have little overall effect. In determining the application of a theory, scientists apply the principle: “When is good enough, good enough?” For example, Newton’s laws of motion work well enough as long as we ignore air resistance and do not move too fast. Close to the speed of light, we need a different set of laws or equations and so relativistic physics takes over. Similarly, the Ideal Gas Laws are based on a set of assumptions, each of which is flawed: the Ideal Gas Laws work well enough as long as we do not work at the extremes of pressure and temperature as they break down under those conditions.
In Science we search for a ‘theory of everything’, a single theory that explains it all and works under all conditions. Until then we have to make do with a number of different, and often contradictory, theories each based on the question “When is good enough, good enough?”
And so it is with my faith – under extreme conditions it has been found wanting. The assumptions or ‘truths’ on which it was based have not worked – my faith has not sustained me through this, the most traumatic of events. And if it can’t sustain me now, I ask myself, what is the point? If I am to have a faith it cannot be the simplistic faith of BE (Before Erin) that works because it works most of the time. I have to have a faith that can withstand extremes, that takes high temperatures and pressure and does not falter. I need the equivalent of a theory of everything. Until then, I have moved beyond being black and white, and am OK with the grey.