Tag Archives: spirituality

And so we were burglarized

As I posted on facebook last Friday, I have now entered the realm of those who have dialed 9-1-1.

It went like this: on Friday I came home from work early, as usual (yet another of the many perks at my job). I dropped off some books at the library bookmobile, I took a menu from a new restaurant in the neighborhood and I made it back to the apartment by about 3:40. I unlocked the door, kicked off my shoes and slid into my slippers. But before taking my coat off, my senses suddenly went on alert–something wasn’t quite right. Taking a few more steps into the entrance hallway, I noticed there was a light on in the bedroom. “That’s weird,” I thought, “we never forget to turn out the lights!”

I thought my husband might be home, so I called “Hello?” Nobody answered–and his shoes weren’t in the hall, so it was unlikely that he was back.

I took a couple more steps into the apartment, gaining a view into the bedroom. I stopped short: our old laptop was out on the bed, its case tossed aside; my jewelry drawer was on its side, with necklaces, bracelets and earrings dumped out all over the bed; my underwear drawer and my husband’s tie drawer were both open, ties spilling out. The throw rug was twisted on the floor, as if someone had left in a hurry.

It took me a moment to register what I was seeing–in a cartoon, a cloud of question marks would have been floating above my head for a split second.

But then, it hit me fast and it hit me in the gut: someone had broken in. Another rush of adrenaline told me that maybe I wasn’t alone.

Heart pounding, I ran back towards the front door, almost heading out in my slippers. At the last moment I slipped my shoes back on and exited as fast as I could, pounding down the stairs and out into the courtyard.

As the cold air outside hit me again, I felt the blood rushing up and down my body. What had happened? Could there be another explanation other than a break in? I was suddenly doubting my own eyes. Had my husband come home, looked for something in a hurry, and left again? This seemed implausible, but my brain clung to this possibility. And if it was thieves, how had they gotten in, since the front door was intact? What state was the rest of the apartment in?

I called 9-1-1. The operator picked up, and my voice was shaking as I tried to control myself, giving her my name and address. So far so good. But when she asked “Ma’am, what made you think that someone had broken in?” and I started stammering my response, I realized that there was no other explanation. Burglars had been in our home–there was no way around it. The tears started to leak out of my eyes. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

The most agonizing moments of the whole experience were the 45 minutes I spent alone, pacing up and down in front of our apartment building, waiting for the cops to arrive. I had left the apartment so quickly, afraid that the criminals were still in the apartment, so I had no idea what had been taken. Had they taken my grandma’s necklaces that I loved, thinking they might be valuable? My camera? Our external harddrive with all my photography work? My KitchenAid? Our Netflix DVD? How would I explain to Netflix why I couldn’t return “Temple Grandin”? What about our copy of “The Royal Tenenbaums”–or worse, our musical instruments? The painting I had just hung up from my grandparents? Wild scenarios ran through my mind, and my forehead pleated into creases with each new vision of loss that presented itself. Every few minutes tears would come to my eyes. Why weren’t the cops there yet? And all throughout, I prayed and repeated to myself “It’s just stuff . . . it’s just stuff . . . no one is hurt . . . it’s just stuff.” I paced, I prayed, I stepped into the street squinting to see if I could identify the police car coming towards me from the empty distance. I paced some more, prayed some more, finally falling into a state of numbness.

Finally, two policemen came. And things got better. I had concocted such scenarios in my mind during the wait that seeing the actual state of things inside the apartment was a relief. A huge relief. “This isn’t so bad,” I breathed, feeling like a gift had just been handed to me. Almost immediately, I started cataloguing all the things I was thankful for:

-They didn’t take a lot–two rings (my engagement ring being one of them), a pile of cash from my bedside table (my payment from singing in Kevin and Katina’s wedding–ouch); an ipod. An ipod charger. My childhood piggy bank full of pennies (surprise for them!). They could have taken so much more, but didn’t. For example, they opened up our old laptop before deeming it wasn’t worth taking (yes, it’s a dinosaur in computer years). And I’m so glad they didn’t wrestle our KitchenAid away! Or our desktop PC! I could go on and on, but it really could have been much worse.

-We have insurance! Granted there’s a $200 cash limit, a $1000 jewelry limit, and a $500 deductible, but hopefully State Farm will be fair and generous with us and we’ll get a check to cover a solid portion of it.

-No one was in the apartment when they broke in–nobody’s safety was compromised. With our holiday guests over the past month–Steve and Steph, Tyler and Liz, Heidi, Mike and James–there could have been someone present, and they could have been in danger. Praise God that our guests didn’t have to suffer through anything traumatic!

-It didn’t happen while we were on vacation, when it might have taken days for us to find out–days during which the apartment would have been totally unsecured.

-The thieves didn’t ransack the place–they dumped some stuff out, but there was no unnecessary damage done to our apartment or possessions.

-Our papers, checkbook and identity info was unaccessed and untouched.

-We live in a country that sends cops to help you in a time of need. I’m so thankful for 9-1-1! That our police force doesn’t demand bribes before they help you! The officers were so kind and so calm, and I thank God for them.

-We’ve had the opportunity to get to know one of our neighbors (who was also burglarized that day), which may not have happened without this small disaster to throw us together. We’ve invited him over for dinner.

The cops left around 5:30pm, promising that someone would return later on to take fingerprints. Again, I was left alone. The fear that was foremost in my mind was now my poor husband: with his cellphone off and in transit on the train, he had no idea what had happened and wouldn’t find out until he walked in the door. I hated the idea of breaking the bad news to him, especially since he’d been looking forward to a peaceful evening at home playing bananagrams and maybe watching a movie. The thought of bursting his bubble just broke my heart. And how would he take the news? I had no idea. Would he be furious? Beating himself up for failing to keep us safe even though there was nothing he could have done to prevent this? So until my husband came home, once again I just paced and prayed. “Give him strength, give him grace,” I prayed over and over. “Spirit, come and fill this apartment with your presence. We always need you, and we need you now. Calm my husband’s heart; give him supernatural peace.”

And God said “yes.”

Some people say that after a robbery they feel estranged in their own house, like their home has been violated. We did not experience that, by God’s grace. After the cops had finished and we’d called our insurance company and put our things back in order, things normalized quickly. We drank a little wine and played a few rounds of bananagrams. I watched a movie while my husband played his electric guitar. We felt strangely calm. As various friends called us to check in–Eve, Alex, Vessie–we wondered at the fact that we felt fine. This couldn’t be normal or natural–but there it was. Our hearts were filled with a sense of well-being and peace.

When it came time to go to bed, we prayed again against anxiety. “Lord,” we prayed, “you’ve already done a miracle in our hearts by making us peaceful and thankful at a time when we normally would be anything but that. Complete your good work in us today by granting us a good sleep, as a testimony to your power. We don’t want to give way to our own anxiety–we’re in your hands, and there is no safer place.” And guess what: we slept like babes. I didn’t even wake up to pee like I normally do.

Praise God–he is good!

If that isn’t a testimony to the fact that he is real, working in our lives, and powerful to work in any situation, I don’t know what is.

This experience has been such a reminder to my husband and me that our treasure is in heaven. The most valuable things that we have cannot be stolen. They could take our ring, but not our marriage. They could take my gig money, but not my music or the friends I made it with. And even if–worst case!–one of us was killed, that would just be a temporary goodbye until our eternal hello in heaven.

Invest in good deeds, in other people, in giving, in generosity, in the fruits of the Spirit–none of those things can be taken, my friends! Those things are secure–they are our treasure in heaven which the thief can’t steal and rust can’t corrode.

The burglary has been a blessing to us. We’ve been praying for the criminals, we’ve been praying that our sense of safety won’t be in locks or doors or insurance, but in God’s sovereignty. The other morning I read an amazing Psalm that speaks exactly to all this:

“Good will come to him who is generous and lends freely, who conducts his affairs with justice. Surely he will never be shaken; a righteous man will be remembered forever. He will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord. His heart is secure, he will have no fear.” (Psalm 112:5-9)

God delights in giving us a peace that is not natural to our human hearts, that is in fact supernatural. Unexplainable. The truth that he is strong when we are weak isn’t just a children’s song or memory verse–it’s a reality in my life, and it’s been a reality in this situation.

And as for the power of God, which through prayer has truly been with us during this experience, I can only say that I hope all of you have and will experience its wonders. Another line from a Psalm that’s been close to my heart is 109:4. King David is talking about wicked men being after him, lying about him, attacking him, betraying his friendship. He seems to have every cause for anger and despair, but in that wonderful verse, after enumerating all his troubles, he says: “but I am a man of prayer.”

I love that. I could write my own little Psalm: I was the victim of criminals and have every reason to be distressed–but I am a woman of prayer. Our safety in this world is never guaranteed, because locks are always penetrable and doors can always be broken down–but I am a woman of prayer. The money I earn may disappear in an instant–but I am a woman of prayer.

I think I’ll make that my mantra this year.

My spiritual Christmas list

I was recently thinking of what I want for Christmas, and the first thing that popped into my mind was this quote from Oswald Chambers in “My Utmost for His Highest” that’s been running through my head ever since I read it back in September:

“When once we get intimate with Jesus we are never lonely, we never need sympathy, we can pour out all the time without being pathetic. The saint who is intimate with Jesus will never leave impressions of himself, but only the impression that Jesus is having unhindered way, because the last abyss of his nature has been satisfied by Jesus. The only impression left by such a life is that of the strong calm sanity that Our Lord gives to those who are intimate with Him.”

While I may not agree that loneliness on earth is fully excluded if you’re spiritually “right” with God (I think there’s still plenty of room for loneliness), I want that ‘strong calm sanity.’ I want it so badly.

A story comes to mind: my sister Heidi was driving us to the airport after our vacation in Alaska. Little 9-month-old James was safely strapped into his car seat, my husband next to him, and Heidi and I were in the front. Five minutes away from the airport, driving down the highway at 55 miles per hour, a woman suddenly pulled out a few yards in front of us, crossing the highway, nearly causing a collision. Heidi slammed on the brakes, our car skidded, and the women sped past us.

My heart was beating out of my chest.

And my first reaction was: “F***”!

I was shocked, and that was my visceral response.

My husband’s first reaction, a very natural one, was anger at this woman who had endangered all of our lives.

But Heidi, seconds after our car came to a halt, immediately breathed “Thank you Jesus!”

In that moment, I was so fiercely convicted. Obviously, my little sister was a woman of strong, calm sanity. The moment after a crazy driver had threatened the life of her little son, she wasn’t angry or swearing, but thanking God for keeping us safe.

Ever since then, I’ve been wanting to grow in that area. So I decided to make a spiritual Christmas list of 7 gifts that I want to ask for unabashedly and pray for energetically. Because after all, even though we like to say that giving is better than receiving and that Christmas is the season of giving (and it is), ultimately it’s the season of receiving. Of getting. And I’m not talking about the most recent gizmo from Apple or a full set of Le Creuset cookware. I’m talking about the Gift with a capital-G–a God who came down and walked among us. Who served us, and wooed us, and saved us.

So here’s my list!

1) Strong calm sanity. For me, this means being centered. Standing on the rock. You know that hymn that goes “On Christ the solid rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand”? That’s getting at the same thing. If I’m rooted in Christ and the gospel, the craziness of the world, my schedule, other people, circumstances, etc. won’t make me feel unbalanced and unhinged. I want to be at the eye of the storm of life. That way, the next time I’m in a near collision and kept safe by the grace of God, my first response will be a calm, sane “Thank you God” instead of . . . well, other choice words. Yup.

2) Grace. And in particular, I mean the opposite of judgment. I struggle with judgment sometimes–when I hear the neighbors thumping their bass downstairs so that the floor of our apartment shudders, I judge them. I start imagining they’re deadbeat, calloused, losers. When I see people being what I deem ‘obnoxious’ on public transit–eating a mess of chicken on the train at 8am, or yelling into their cellphones, or yelling at their kid–I judge them. I tread dangerously close to that Pharisee who prayed “Thank you God that I’m not like him“–which is not at all the attitude Jesus wants me to have. And how to stop judging? Well, one thing I do sometimes is quote John 3:16 to myself with that person as the object of Jesus’ love: “For God so loved this woman who’s pushing around her kid that he gave his only Son . . .” This immediately reminds me of this person’s intrinsic value, regardless of what they’re doing. Another way to get at this is the next point:

3) Praying for my enemies. It’s funny how liberating this is–I think this is more for our sake than the sake of our “enemies” after all! When I’m upset at the neighbors’ loud music and apparent disregard for our well being, I feel like they’re my enemies. And I can let myself sit and seethe in this vise of anger against them. But one night just the other week, my husband opened his blessed mouth and started praying for them. I joined in. We prayed that God would be present and active in their lives, bless them abundantly, provide for their needs, give them peace. And we slept like babies that night, without a trace of anger in our hearts.

4) Joy and contentment. I feel like I have this in my life right now, but I need to hold on to it. I will be in many different sets of circumstances throughout my life–I was single, now I’m married, perhaps I’ll be widowed one day; I may be living in a creaky apartment or a lovely house, working or jobless, mothering or childless–but I’m called to be joyful throughout everything. This goes back to the refrain “on Christ the solid Rock I stand.” He needs to be the source of my joy, and then my joy will not fluctuate.

5) Using my gifts. In that notorious parable of the talents, Jesus basically says that he gives different resources and abilities to each of us, and that we’re each held responsibile for investing in the Kingdom and using what he’s given us for its growth. The more you have, the more you’re accountable for. So the first question to ask is: what do I have?

Well, I have money. I have a nice camera and a love of photography. I’m a blogger, I love cooking, and I’m a musician. Am I using each one of these things for the Kingdom? Is there anything I’m not investing that I should be? Recently, I’ve felt urged in my spirit to blog more about God and spirituality. Last Monday, I met with a woman about taking free senior portraits for kids who can’t afford them. And I know it doesn’t end there! I need to stay open, because God will lead me to these opportunities. He has better things in mind than I do, and better uses for me than I could ever come up with! And this is related to the next point:

6) Generosity. Not just with money–but with my time (which can be so much harder). My talents. My home. My emotional energy. Jesus gave of himself no holds barred–so why do I feel like I have to conserve my energy and conserve my resources? Probably because I’m afraid I’ll end up tired and empty–so I need to trust that God will supply what I need to do (and to do well) what he’s called me to.

I love that verse in Ecclesiastes 5–“Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income. This too is meaningless. As goods increase, so do those who consume them. And what benefit are they to the owner except to feast his eyes on them?”

I don’t want goods and riches that I simply have sitting around to “feast my eyes on”–I want to use any riches I have to love people. Riches are meaningless if they’re not in the service of loving people.

7) Thankfulness. So often–especially living in this country where we tend to feel entitled to everything (to comfort, to a TV, to an education, to money in excess of what we need)–I forget to be thankful. I want to live in a constant state of gratitude. I deserve nothing–but God has given me everything in his Son, and his promise of an eternal inheritance.

What’s on your spiritual Christmas list this year?