I’ve put off talking about what the burglary did to my head. Seriously. I had no idea how it could have impacted so much of what I do. It took away my feeling of sanctuary. Those who know me know that my home is my favorite place to be. On top of this, it took away the innocence of my children, who also believed that home was sacred and somehow protected them from the negative influences of the sometimes harsh reality of the outside world. It was about home, hearth, family, and how we were one—and safe—under our roof.
It became about remembering to lock the doors, keeping the blinds closed, removing the dog door, and creating a veritable fortress amid the safe façade of my middle-class neighborhood. And about creating other more drastic protective measures where before there was no need. Me, trying to explain to my kid that it’s okay if a man parks outside our house—he’s probably just a salesman as the boy keeps an eagle eye on the strange man until he gets back into his car and drives off. The burglars did not take much of the children’s property, just lots of mine, but they took something else far more important from them.
The first few days were the roughest. First, the practical; the repairs to the damage, figuring out what was missing, filling out paperwork, reassuring the kids, talking to police over and over. Then, the emotional; the worry, mourning the loss of stuff, not being able to sleep in case they come back, having to contemplate who could have done this. I think, though, the hardest part was to realize that someone who usually thought the best of others might have to rethink that position.
Somewhere along the line though, the things became less important. In fact—the house looked better without most of it. With a little creative thought, the help of good friends and even people I barely knew, this all worked out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. And, I didn’t even have to rethink my opinion of the entire human race.
Reflect upon your present blessings of which every man has many – not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some ~ Charles Dickens




