the wonder of Whatipu and a prayerful husband

Yesterday Tim and I drove a few K’s out of the Big Smoke to one of these glorious coastal destinations available only by a gnarly gravel road. It was the most magnificent day, not a cloud in sight, and Whatipu welcomed us with the song of the summers last Cicada’s.
Whatipu is a strange and beautiful place- huge caves burrow into its cliffs, miles of wetlands stretch out then quickly turn into sand dunes, which sharply duck into the heavy breaking waves. We hardly saw anyone all day- a massive contrast to a hundred years or so ago when it was a hub of activity as the Europeans raped the landscape of all its mighty Kauri trees- they did that a lot. After a hard day logging the Europeans would party in the caves- they sold Whatipu’s soul while dancing in it’s heart.

So much uniquity- all along the sand, where the sea had just rolled were these mounds of sand, which when we stepped on them they would pop like huge air bubbles! And in some places we would step and for half a foot around our foot’s landing would appear burst bubbles. And all across the wetlands you could see the sun catching these sparkles- they were these little spiders who create a web kite and then the wind caches it and they emigrate! The few people we did see were decidedly mad… a guy playing soulfully on his saxophone, a girl marching purposefully out to the sand dunes with a huge piece of rolled up fabric (you have to understand this is the middle of the wilderness!)…

It was a day filled with such awe at Gods creation- so much so that for the first time since being in Auckland I was truly inspired towards an artistic gesture! Hehe.

Some of you will be pleased to hear confirmation that my husband is really rather spiritual- last night I woke up to him mumbling away, and thought “Oh here we go again, Mr SleepTalker strikes once more” but then I heard him say “And Lord Jesus I just ask…” and I thought “Argh! Oh no! I fell asleep during our Good Night prayers” and started feeling really bad, until his prayer drifted off into nowhere, and it dawned on me that it was 3 o clock in the morning and we couldn’t possibly have been praying that long, and that Tim was indeed sleep praying! I asked him about it this morning and he didn’t remember a dash of the nights happenings. But maybe the cool thing about that is that God remembered, and heard, and might even answer them! (or does that present a theological dilemma?) (and I guess its either a good or bad thing depending on what Tim was praying… “and, Lord, please can we wake up in a bed of chocolate sauce..” that would be a bit messy.)
We are off to Te Aroha tomorrow for a couple of days break.For some pictures of Whatipu check out: www.charlotte.net.nz/ album/whatipu/


Anonymous said...

cool site, i especially love the header- self-abandonment is where its at for sure.

Anonymous said...

he may have been praying that he wouldn't get killed in his rugby game- or even worse, be attacked by the indian mafia- they have that effect on people you know.