The Day Pukerau Church Chose Us

Every restoration project has a starting point, but ours didn't begin with a shovel, a blueprint, or a cleared patch of land. It began on a raw, freezing day in the middle of winter, standing before an old church that had seen better decades.

It all started back in Dunedin when I looked at my husband, who was facing a terminal cancer diagnosis, and asked him a simple question: Did he want to go on one last adventure?

Our adventure turned out to be Pukerau.

The moment we arrived to view the property and looked out across the landscape, something shifted. Beneath the biting winter chill and the overgrown neglect, there was an overwhelming, absolute sense of peace. It was the kind of quiet that wraps around you and whispers that you’ve somehow found where you’re supposed to be.

Of course, reality quickly grounded that romantic vision.

The First time we viewed Pukerau Church, standing on top of the slippery slope that christened me on the way down.

Walking the property to take it all in, the winter slope had other plans. In a matter of seconds, my grand inspection down that paddock hill ended with me taking an unplanned, muddy slide all the way down. By the time I managed to stand up, I was completely covered in it. We had to line the car seats with old newspaper just to make the long drive back to Dunedin, completely coated in rural Southland soil.

Driving away, covered in grime and laughing at the absurdity of it all, I realized something: I had already taken a piece of Pukerau home with me. I had been officially christened by its mud, and right then and there, I knew we had to buy the church.

He was right there with me through that muddy first inspection, sharing the laugh and the vision for what this place could be. We only had one year together here after we made the move, but in that time, this property gave us a profound gift. Long before we pulled out the first weed or planted the first native tree, this land offered us an absolute, unshakeable peace when we needed it most.

Now, every time I step out onto the grounds, I’m not just restoring an old church and clearing overgrown land; I’m tending to the final chapter of our adventure, and a place that held us both during a deeply tender time.