Monday, June 11, 2012

The Run of Bad Luck Continues. Or More Sermon Material about Laying Up Treasures.

I stayed at mom's place on Friday night - and stayed awake til 4:30 am, just as it was starting to get light out.
I slept in my dad's bed, which was uhm, well, weird. Then hung out at her place til the late afternoon on Saturday.

I went back home and claimed it as mine, praying and cleaning my way through each room. Drew came home later that night, and we were both feeling at peace, (although both a little jumpy) thankful for the prayers of our friends and family.

I got up this morning and went to visit my dad. Whom I found in the hallway; he had wheeled himself into a corner, inadvertently put on the brakes, and looked up at me as I got off the elevator and said, quietly and slurredly, "Stuck". It was so pathetic and sad. I unbraked him, and tried to push him into the dining room. He was confused and kept putting his feet on the floor when I tried to move him forward. 

I haven't seen him since last Wednesday and found that his speech had deteriorated considerably since my last visit. I fed him his mush while he continued to pull on his wheelchair's seatbelt. He wants it OFF. NOW. I explain, repeatedly, that it needs to stay on him to keep him SAFE. So he won't fall. So he won't hurt himself.

He doesn't understand. And even if he did understand, SAFE was something he never was.

When mom arrived, we wheeled him out onto the patio to show him the two baby pigeons. He was not interested. SERIOUSLY!? How can anyone not care about two tiny ugly feathered birds? So we wheeled him to the end of the hall where we could sit in the sunshine and he could listen to me tell mom how at peace I am about the whole break in thing.

"Knife," dad whispers.
"You want a knife?" Mom asks.
"Knife," he says again, holding out his hand.
"Clippers? Do you want to clip your nails?"
He shakes his head. "Knife."
I ask mom if knife is german for something. He goes back and forth between the two languages alot.
Then dad does a sawing motion on his seatbelt. "Knife."
He nods. Then looks at mom, hopeful. "Knife?"
I explain that he needs to keep the seatbelt on to keep him safe... just like he wears a seatbelt when he's in the car. I tell him that when he falls out of his wheel chair, he hurts his head. And it bleeds, and it's scary for him.
He looks at me. Raises his eyebrows, rolls his eyes and turns his head away from me, disgusted.


The only sentence he said the entire visit was in response to mom's question as she was applying lipstick to her lips. "Do you want some lipstick too?"
"No, it doesn't suit me."

I leave at 1:45 and am home round 2:30 pm.
Drew is at work, and I walk into the house feeling a tad nervous, but determined to be strong and brave. Like an animated heroin like a Disney Princess. Or Katniss Everdeen.

I continue to pack up items in the family room and pantry. The sun is shining and my house is heating up, but I refuse to open any windows or the sliding door. Every door is locked and I'm feeling claustrophobic. Around 3 I go upstairs and decide to open my bedroom window. I look outside at my truck and the storage pod in the driveway beneath my window and know that they are too far away from the roof to be used as a stepping stone up to my room. So I crack open the window and turn on the fan.

At around 4, I go out to grab my purse that I left in the truck and I lock it up again, mindful of what the Constable said about safety on Friday night. At 4:30, I go back outside and put some cleaning wipes in the back seat (that I found while emptying the pantry) and locked the truck again.

I lock the door behind me and go back into the house, and box up office supplies and DVD's. I consider making the muffins I didn't bake on Saturday, then decide to box up the stuff that needs to go to Sally Ann. I assemble two boxes, while at the front of the house, and fill them with the random stuff I've been collecting from various closets and cupboards all week. I'm in the front room, overlooking the driveway, and dividing things between two different sized boxes when it occurs to me I can't see my truck. It should be right there.

I go to the window. My truck is not there.
I open the front door's it's still not there. I walk out to the driveway, look down the road and IT'S NOT THERE.


I run back into the house, lock the front door again, and look through my 'spare key' container and my spare keys are gone.

I start shaking.
Uncontrollable shaking.
By the time I get to the kitchen, find Constable Ben's business card, call the Langley RCMP, I am sobbing and shivering and dizzy and nauseous.

I report that my truck has been stolen, then call each of the kids to make sure they didn't pop in and borrow it in the past half hour. I am a full blown freak show as I talk to each of them.

My truck has my garage door opener in it.
They could have pressed the button and been in my house JUST LIKE THAT.

I am sick. Scared. Frantic.

I call Daryl to come and sit with me while I wait for the police.

Drew arrives home minutes after I called him. He has walked off the job and is not going to leave my side. He calls his dad to come. My sister calls my brother. And my mom. Clint drives out from Vancouver. Danica pops over. I continue to wail.

All this being brave business is so over. I can't be strong one second longer. I sob. Uncontrollably. I am full of fear and just want to run away from this house and this situation.

I am not angry at the thieves - I still think they need help more than anything. (After all, the things I love the most, are still with me. They haven't hurt or taken my kids or my family. Just stuff. They've just taken THINGS. And they can have it all.) So, I'm not angry at them, but I sure am scared of them. They're ballsy. In broad daylight. They came right up to the house and TOOK MY TRUCK.

Mark arrives and unplugs the automatic garage door opener. Jim arrives and changes the locks on my doors. Daryl arrives and gives me a hug. Danica hugs and holds me. Clint calls from the road and tells us all to update our statuses, letting friends know the truck has been stolen. He advises us to post a description and the licence plate number.

Strangely, minutes later, my shaking stops. I get a grip, stop sobbing and am able to breathe again. My house is full of people who love me, and the internet is full of people who are praying for me.

My mom arrives ready to wring the neck of the first bad guy who crosses her. She is a seriously pissed mother hen and she is letting me know she will not stand for this. Those thieves? Better not get in her way. Julie arrives with a lock for my storage pod and a hug for her worn out older sister.

We all wait around for the police. Someone was supposed to call me.
And we wait some more.

I call the Langley Police Station.
"Hi, you probably don't recognize me, I'm calmer now -  not the sobbing maniac who phoned a few hours ago ..."
"There was a shift change at 7 pm, so all of us are just starting for the night. Is this Jane?"
"Heh Heh, yeah. I was wondering if someone was still planning on calling me?"
"Yes, but we're a little backed up right now... but someone should be by in an hour or so."

So we order pizza. And pop. And we have a party.
And I'm at peace.

The police arrive and assure me they'll call me as soon as my truck is recovered.
He takes my statement, making notes in his little notebook.

Everyone starts to leave, and by 9:30 pm, Drew is locking up the front door.
He is spending the night with a friend.
I am staying with my mom.

None of this is a surprise to God. He is allowing this to happen for a reason. I know He loves me and I can rest in His care.

It has been suggested to me that God is allowing the things that anchor me to my past (the jewelry, the photos) to be removed from my life so that I can look forward to my future. He has a plan for me. It's a good one. And it doesn't include diamonds.

I still believe the thieves need rehabilitation more than incarceration, so once they are caught, I hope I have the guts to give my two cents. I wish them no ill will. They've just taken stuff. They haven't hurt or stolen the most valuable things in my life - my kids.


At 1:00 am, I am sitting in front of my mom's laptop, updating my facebook status, when my cellphone rings.
"Jane? This is Sargent Tom. I have good news. We just recovered your stolen Escape. The bad news is it was doused in gasoline and set on fire..."


Three FIVE things I'm thankful for:
1. As of 2:35 am, everyone I love is safe. (Although Clint and Max are needing fulltime prayer right now. I'll report in the morning how their night went.)
2. We are surrounded by people who love us. It's the best feeling ever.
3. In the meantime, there's this old red tricked out pick up truck I can drive that was my dad's pride and joy.
4. Drew and I are VERY ready to move.
5. Long distance phone call from Mandi, letting me know she's praying for me. Ahhhh. I love my family.


Pray Along with Me?
1. That when I talk to insurance agencies tomorrow, I will discover that I am adequately covered.
2. That the people responsible will be caught so that they can begin the journey of turning their lives around.
3. That the peace I am feeling about all of this, will continue to fill me to overflowing.
4. And praise God for my family who ALWAYS step up to the plate when there's a crisis. I am thankful for Jim, Daryl, Julie, Mom, Clint, Max, Drew, Danica and the army of friends who have been praying me through this.
5. I think I want to pray that my truck be written off? Apparently the exterior and engine are still in perfect condition, but ewww. Doused in gasoline and set on fire? And if that's what I'm praying, then please, help me to find a replacement vehicle much quicker than it took for me to find my current Escape.
6. Please pray for my boys tonight.
7. Please pray about my (lack of) employment situation.
8. Please pray that the repair bill to get my front tooth fixed will be less than the cost of a new vehicle.
9. Praise Him for safe places for us to go to. For a police department that has been attentive and caring. For this country I live in, and the opportunities available to me. For the fun grad weekend we just had. For the way Mark and Sherry are providing Drew with a vehicle this week. For the outpouring of support I am experiencing.


1 comment:

Tricia said...

All I can think of when I read this, is that you must be one terrific and effective witness for the Lord, that you have been under such attacks. Praying for you and your well being. (Have I mentioned I have a guest house?)