Overall, things have been ok. I have fleeting moments of being tired of the routine. Every day doing the same things. Wishing I didn’t have to work so much. Feeling a little sorry for myself if the truth be told. Then some life event happens and I get a splash of cold water in my face. I remember how terribly lucky I am to be where I am at.
Last night, I found out that a family I love very, very much had their house broken into. Trashed just about everything. I was amazed and humbled at how they were dealing with it. Upset, but grateful they weren’t hurt. Upset, but knowing that material things can be replaced.
What’s awful is the things that can’t be replaced. You put all your important papers- from your entire life- in a firebox because you are so responsible and organized. Who would even think that someone might take it someday? Papers and memories that can’t be duplicated.
They haven’t left my mind. I keep picturing them trying to clean everything up. Closets ripped apart. Beds torn apart. Each room violated. I don’t want to go on and on becaue they will probably read this and I don’t want them to feel even worse (if that’s even possible). But just take a moment today and imagine what that would feel like.
And say some prayers for them. Trying to make a list of everything you think has been stolen for the police and the insurance is probably maddening. And you know that for months they will be discovering more things that are missing.
So today I am grateful for my boring routine. I will be praying for them that someday soon they will regain some feeling again of routine and normal. Prayers to them for peace, safety, healing. Join me in those prayers if you can.