The World is ending.
According to Harold Camping it’s pretty much all over on Saturday
At 6pm all God’s followers will ascend into heaven, leaving all non-believers behind to dwell in turmoil before the end of the world. There's going to be earthquakes and volcanoes and even the dead will rise and wander around as long as their legs haven't rotted off completely.
According to 89-year-old Harold Camping, a retired civil engineer and California-based Christian radio broadcaster, Jesus Christ will return to Earth because it's exactly 7000 years since Noah's flood.
It's called "The Rapture".
And so obviously it’s time for MY LAST BLOG EVER. Because I'll either have ascended or else wandering around in an apocalypse with no internet.
So, It’s been a good life. Some regrets.
I regret that my Dad died 16 years ago.
That’s him on the left. That’s me in the middle. That’s me in the spotlight . Sharing my parents. It’s 1965.
My biggest regret about my Dad dying 16 years ago is that my eldest son was born 15 years ago.
He would have been the world’s best Grandpa.
And you know what, that’s it.
Really. That’s my only regret.
I’m regretting the world ending, of course, but putting all my little regrets up against that one, Dad is the only who makes the cut.
So how ‘bout blessings.
I have been blessed with a beautiful homeland.
Faced with the end of the world it’s the unspeakable sadness that the glistening snow and grandeur of the top of Mt Ruapehu will be soon gone.
Gone will be the thundering surf of Whananaki, as a flash of the orange bill of an oystercatcher catches the corner of your eye and you see it’s flying with it’s mate. And a million silica stars twinkle in the sand.
The so very green green of the Waikato. The burnt brown of Hawkes Bay and the Port Hills. I will regret never seeing those blessings again.
I have been blessed with a bunch of boys who have been good mates since childhood. And while we don’t see each other nearly enough, when we do the separation melts away. 11 boys, give or take. No divorces. 1 death. 40 years. Pretty blessed.
I have been blessed with Catherine and Pat. Mums. Nuff said.
But on reflection. With only hours of life left. I need to tell the doomed world this.
My one true blessing is Helen, Jack and Ben.
Isn’t that funny. Billions of people. Millions of miles of life and landscape. The whole Universe that has ever been. Nothing matters but those 3 people. 3 tiny lumps of carbon and water. Oh and Saffi, the labradoodle
And one of them’s only 12 years old. Yet he beats anything you could throw at me.
Frankly he even beats God. Who is obviously a dickhead for choosing to end the world on Saturday.
OK, so probably it's Harold Camping who is the dickhead.
Or maybe he too is a blessing.
Because today I counted my regrets and my blessings and my blessings won. If the world doesn’t end this weekend I’m going to do this every week