I have been living in a fantasy world , at least about some things. I live in a safe, quiet neighborhood. I haven't locked my doors for the nearly 30 years I've lived in this old house. But when I came home from my writer's group last week, the front door was locked and the back door was standing wide open. Something was wrong. I looked into the bedroom and saw open drawers, but still held disaster at bay by putting water on for tea. (No, I'm not kidding. Now that I look back I see how foolish that was, but I decided if I had to face bad news I would have a cup of tea first.) I then calmly looked in the bathroom, noticed the window was wide open (and a lawn chair underneath.) Further investigation revealed my jewelry containers dumped empty on the floor, all drawers in every room open, lots of things gone. Both laptops, nearly every bit of jewelry I owned, my kindle!!!!!!! passports, checks, etc.
I forgot my tea, husband came home, we called the police. They came and even took some fingerprints. I'm not really expecting to hear back. Yesterday I called the homeowner's insurance, the bank, and began the drudgery of cleanup.
I've always loved Mr. Rogers. And I remember him saying whenever bad and scary things happen, look for the helpers. There are always people who will come and help. And that's what I noticed. Right away, I called the one of my three sons who lives close by. He commiserated and then unexpectedly, at the end of a tired day of doing construction, showed up. He sat with us while we waited for the police. That's all. His fiancée called and she came, too. I called my friend on her way out of work. She offered sympathy and a promise to pray. That's all. And it's odd, but after we were alone and closing drawers and wiping up the weird fingerprint powder and taking inventory, I felt strangely blessed.
I know. I frequently have opposite reactions. I'm kind of a strange person in some ways. I think it comes from writing for so many years. There's always a part of me that's outside, observing whatever the rest of me is going through. So of course, I've been analyzing that strange response. I knew I had been robbed. Some things that were very important to me were gone--my mother's costume jewelry, her wedding rings, things I remember her wearing, that made me feel her presence--were gone and not likely to be returned. I felt like my life had been given one brisk shake and some things had come loose. But I felt a surge of joy when I knew, firmly and certainly, that I hadn't lost anything that really mattered.
Sometimes we Christians recite the right answers. Here's one of my favorite examples. A little boy goes to Bible camp and after a week they ask him, "What's grey with a fluffy tail, lives in trees and hides nuts for winter?" He thinks for a minute and says, "Well, it sounds like a squirrel, but I bet the answer is Jesus."
I feel like I could make a card file with the "right" answer and response for every situation: death--I know they're in a better place, job problems--I need to work as if I'm working for the Lord, theft--my treasure is in heaven. And I have to admit that most of the time, when I try to put these over whatever I'm really feeling, the results have been less than successful. But this time it was like I was clearly seeing things, for just a flashing second. I felt a joy that my son and his fiancée had loved us, that my friends had loved us, that the police had come and done their job of standing between us and chaos. And I felt a strange freedom and hope. Lighter, somehow, like a rope that tethered my balloon had been cut. The abstraction of heaven seemed real. I would go there--probably within the next 20-30, certainly 40 years. It was this place with its moths and rust and thieves that would fade into dim memory. I felt excited and joyful. As if the focus had suddenly been adjusted and I saw everything clearly. Values were flipped on their heads. He was real, and nothing else, certainly nothing I owned, seemed all that important.
It comes and goes. After I realized yesterday afternoon that they'd taken my kindle, I went back to muttering. The paperwork feels overwhelming. I miss my earrings. But it was there at least for a minute. And I'll remember.
We are such curious creatures, aren't we? Half bound and half free. Straddling the line between earth and heaven. We know what we were meant for in some deep part of our heart and yet we slog through a world that daily dims that awareness. And yet...Sometimes the strangest things cause our eyes too look up and glimpse, however briefly, that brilliant and beautiful place where our hearts will finally be at rest.
Lofty thoughts. Mundane life. Flashes of who we really are and the future that awaits us. Our lot until He comes.
