To the people who robbed me

faith struggle pain healing forgiveness Christian writer Carol Reeve

To the people who robbed the house my husband and I built as a sacred space:

I found the can of tuna and the instant mashed potatoes you left behind. I hope you aren’t hungry.

I noticed that you took the paper towels and the toilet paper. I suppose you needed them more than we did.

My shampoo, my razor, and face cream are easier for me to replace than they are for you.

I hope the mattresses you took now provide you with a comfortable place to lay your head and that the linens keep you warm.

I hope you took a moment to enjoy the view of God’s amazing creation sprawled out before this home. Perhaps you saw a deer scamper up the lot next to ours or caught a rare glimpse of a bald eagle as it soared past the deck. Maybe you even saw the illusive wildcat or that marmot-like creature that we can’t quite identify. I hope so.

And I hope that something in your time here encouraged you, made you pause, lit a spark that the darkness of the world cannot extinguish. I hope you know that you, too, are a cherished child of God. Because you are.

I have long said that what I have is not mine; it has been given to me. But what I failed to understand – until now, with your help – is that if I say that, if I mean that, then I do not get to choose who takes it. In your moment of need, my home was given to you. That is God’s provision.

I pray you make your way to a higher road, a better road, a road of peace and joy.

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