On Saturday night, Chris and I went to dinner at a friend’s house.  They had just moved into a new house and so we were celebrating their new digs.  Which, of course, meant Chris and I complained the whole time about our crappy rental house.  We chatted about possible ways to get out of it, but in the end we all decided it was better to wait for a while until things were a little more settled on the home front for us.

We got home around 11:00 that night and when we pulled into the driveway, I noticed the light in the living room was on.

“Oh, we left the light on,” I said to Chris.  “How strange.”

When we went to the backdoor, which is the one we use as the main door to the house, it was unlocked.

Even stranger.

We walked into the house to find that someone had clearly been there while we were gone.  Our house had been broken into and completely trashed.  They came through a window that was behind our entertainment center, so they pushed the entire entertainment center over, sending furniture, pictures, electronics, and Bean’s toys flying all over the place.  Chris immediately noticed his two gaming systems were gone, the Wii and the Nintendo 3, along with all of his games, remotes, and cords.  The pillows from the couch had been pulled off and thrown all over and whomever it was had then poured condensed New England clam chowder all over the furniture and rugs.  Every drawer and cabinet in the house was standing open and the contents had either been pulled out and thrown around or they were empty, their contents stolen.

Walking further into the house, the area in the hall where we kept diaper bags and empty purses was a mess.  Ever bag having been torn open and Bean’s big diaper bag even missing – a total bummer since that’s one of the first things I bought when I was pregnant with him.  Totally replaceable, and not even really used too often anymore, but still such a disappointment.

Our bedroom was the worst.  They had gone through my tall, stand up jewelry box and taken everything.  I had a diamond ring my parents had given me when I was sixteen and another beautiful garnet ring set with two diamonds on each side in white gold that they gave me for my college graduation – garnet and gold.  Go Seminoles.  All of my earrings were taken, including a pair of diamond studs made from diamonds taken from a family heirloom that Chris’ grandmother gave me when I married Chris.  And they took my Bean necklace.  Which just broke my heart.  But the biggest loss for me were two $15 sterling silver rings.  Two simple bands, one inscribed with I Promise, April 29, 1999 and the other inscribed with I Swear, April 29, 1999. They were mine and Chris’ promise rings from high school, our promise to each other that one day we would be married.  And while those rings have long been replaced by two platinum wedding bands, those $15 bands held more significance to me than anything else I own.

Thankfully, they left my last drawer, full of significant cards and letters and keepsakes from over the years – Bean’s baptismal Bible, my baptismal Bible, a copy of the prayer read at my wedding, a card from my sister telling me how proud she was of me getting my masters, and so on and so on.  They also left behind my pearls, my high school class ring, and Chris’ platinum Yale cufflinks that I gave him when he graduated.

They went through all our drawers in our dresser, throwing clothing everywhere and clearly looking for hidden money and valuables.  They pulled all my clothes off the hangers and threw everything from my shelves out into the bedroom.  Our bed had been pulled apart and pillows, sheets, and blankets strewn all over the room.  And underneath it all, my little dog Lucy hid under the bed, shaking and scared and refusing to come out, even for me and Chris.

They also didn’t go into Bean’s room.  His drawers were all closed and his closet hadn’t been touched.  For this, I am so thankful because the thought of them being in his room would have been enough to kill me.

All total, they took most of our electronics (blessedly leaving the most expensive – two large flat screen TVs), all of my jewelry, Bean’s diaper bag, our video camera (luckily I had taken my camera with me to dinner), a couple camera lenses, two iPods, a few knick-knacks, and my iPhone.  All important, but nothing that can’t be replaced.

What they took that was more important than those things was our sense of security.  Our sense of privacy.  I felt so violated.  Someone had been through our things. They had their hands on my wedding china.  They touched our family photos.  They walked in my bedroom.  The term home invasion doesn’t even begin to describe that feeling.  That kind of invasion is personal and emotional.  And those are the hardest wounds to heal.

Chris and I called the police, who came out and dusted for finger prints and took our statements.  And after he left, we were left standing there amongst the mess.  I was shaking so violently that the sunglasses still clasped in my hands after grabbing them off my head when we walked inside were trembling.  The officer told us that often one break in means someone has been in the house and seen valuables that they weren’t able to grab the first time and they often return in a few days or weeks to take what they left behind.  There was no way I could be in the house anymore.  And there was definitely no way I could bring Bean into that house.  He was sleeping safe and sound at my parent’s house that night, and that is exactly where he would stay until we had a better living situation.  In fact, that was where we would all stay.

So, at 2am, Chris and I packed up what valuables that were left that we could take with us and we drove an hour away to my parent’s house.  Sunday morning, we came home with my parents and together we all cleaned up the mess and came up with a game plan.

Our initial 6 month lease was up on Aug. 31 at this house and though we had verbally committed to renewing for another 6 months, we had no yet signed a lease.  Now, I’m not one to go back on my word, but there was no way I was staying in that house another 6 months.  So, Sunday morning Chris talked with our landlords, who were understanding and kind.  We decided to spend the remaining two weeks of August at my parent’s house.  We packed up almost the entire house, except the furniture, and have essentially moved into my parent’s house.  Chris and I will be meeting this week with a property manager about finding a place to rent beginning September 1.  But regardless of what happens, we are out of that house and my family is safe.  And that’s what is important.

I don’t talk often about my faith on this blog and that is on purpose.  But it’s hard to talk about this event – and the subsequent few months since we’ve moved to Florida – without talking about what it has meant to me as a Christian.  When we lived in Connecticut, Chris and I had a pretty charmed life.  At 26 years old, we were making a lot of money.  We had a beautiful house.  We were able to spend money as we needed, and even as we wanted. And with that level of financial freedom comes a level of peace and security.  But it’s a peace and security based on the wrong thing.

When we moved to Florida, I think it was the Lord’s way to telling me that loving Him wasn’t enough for a relationship.  I had to trust Him.  And to show me, He shook my life to the core.  I haven’t been able to find a job.  Our house was small, cramped, and apparently as unsafe as it seemed.  And just about the time Chris and I would feel like we were starting to get on our feet again, something else would come along and knock us for a loop again.  We just couldn’t get ahead.  And through it all, I continued to pray.  But I continued to pray for the wrong things.  I prayed for God to stop this.  To fix things.  To change things.  And what I didn’t realize was that I was missing the point.

What I should have been praying were prayers of thanksgiving.

Thank you Lord that we have a roof over our heads.

Thank you Lord that you have provided food and clothing and met the needs of our family.

Thank you Lord for bringing my husband and I closer together through these trials.

Thank you Lord for the family that surrounds us and pulls us through these times.

Thank you Lord for your plan, even though it is very different than my plan.

What God was trying to teach me was that loving Him and having a relationship with Him means trusting him – and not just in the good times.  It means trusting that even when I can’t see the bigger picture, God does.  He was literally taking all the things that I found security in away from me.  And when I still didn’t get the message, he had other people come in and physically TAKE everything from me.  How much clearer can it be?

Those things that were stolen are just things.  All replaceable.  And that house that was broken is fixable.  What is more important than those things is the health and safety of my family – and we have that.  What is more important is our love for each other – and we have that.  What is more important is our faith that the Lord will provide – and now we have that, too.

Last night, Chris and I climbed into the bed in the spare room at my parent’s house.  Our son was sleeping soundly across the hall and our dogs were finally calm and curled at our feet.  And when we kissed goodnight and I rolled over, I sighed and felt the stress and pressure and fear of the uncertainty that I have been carrying for that past six months leave my body completely.

For the first time in six months, I slept all the way through the night last night and when I woke up this morning I was holding my husband’s hand and thanking the Good Lord for the many blessings in my life.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord.  “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you hope and a future.”  Jeremiah 29:11

August 13, 2010, 3:18am:

No! Don’t do it! Don’t wake up! Don’t wake up!

Shoot.  I’m awake.

I need a job.

I hope it has benefits.

I can’t wait to get a paycheck again.

When I get a paycheck, I’m going to go to Target every day.

And eat Chick-fil-a every day.

And pay off my student loans.

And save for Bean’s college.

If I’m getting a paycheck, then Bean’s got to go to daycare.

He’s going to be so sad!

He’s going to think I’ve abandoned him!

Maybe that will only last a couple days and then he’ll make some friends.

I hope his friends are cool.

I hope Bean isn’t nerdy when he grows up.

I don’t know how to do calculus.

Or where to buy a pocket protector.

What is a pocket protector?

I need to do laundry.

Am I out of fabric softener?

I need to add it to my grocery list.

I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow when Chris gets paid.

I can’t wait to get a paycheck again.

I need a job.

…

…

3:21am

It’s only been three minutes?!?!

Oh, man.  I’m going to be so tired in the morning!

I wonder if Chris will get up with Bean even though it’s my morning.

Why is Chris sleeping so good?!?!

He should be awake with me.

(nudge, nudge)

Wait, it he wakes up he’ll just wanna…you know…

Do I wanna?

Nah.

Better let him sleep.

Why don’t I wanna?

I feel fat.

I’m getting fat.

Oh, we need Oreos from the grocery store tomorrow.

I can’t wait for Chris to get paid tomorrow.

I miss getting a paycheck.

I need a job.

…

…

3:22am

It’s only been a MINUTE?!?!

I’ve got to go to sleep.

Should I read?

No, the light will wake Chris up.

But I could go to the living room and then use the light.

If I’m in the living room, I could write a little bit.

This would make a funny blog post.

When is my BlogHer check supposed to come this month?

I miss getting a real paycheck.

I need a job.

…

…

3:22am

I miss Bean.

Maybe I’ll go wake him up just so I can blubber his belly.

Nah.  He’s never happy when he’s woken up.

Maybe I’ll just go peep at him instead.

But then I’d have to step over Big Molly in the hallway and that would wake her up.

She’d want to go outside.

That would wake Lucy up.

Lucy would want to eat.

The dogs need a bath.

I need a bath.

Did I shower yesterday?

I don’t even know if I showered yesterday.  Good Lord.

I need a job.

But I don’t want Bean to go back to daycare.

He’ll start to get sick all the time again.

Maybe that was just a Connecticut thing.

I miss Connecticut.

I wonder how our house is doing?

I wonder if the basement still smells?

Gosh, I wish we had a basement here.

Then we could put all our moving boxes in there and free up that room.

I could turn that room into an office.

But, why?

It’s not like I have a job.

I need a job.

…

…

3:40am

Maybe I should take something.

Does that make me a pill popper?

I can’t believe Brittney Murphy died.

I loved when she said “Cheese and rice!” instead of saying a curse word.

Man, cheese and rice sounds delicious right now.

I’m hungry.

I wonder if I could sneak some food in bed without waking Chris up?

I think we’re out of pretzels.

Better get those at the grocery store tomorrow.

Chris gets paid tomorrow.

I can’t wait to get a paycheck.

I need a job.

Yes, it’s true. Our family of three just became a family of four. I’m so happy to announce the arrival of our slimy, scaly bundle of joy.

I bought Bean a fish yesterday. Which caused an argument between me and Chris over the necessity of another living being in our house at the moment. But I insisted. Bean loves fish. Ergo, Bean NEEDS a fish. And now, Bean HAS a fish.

Chris doesn’t think I can keep this fish alive, but I beg to differ. My track record with fish is excellent.

First, there was Dave the Fish in my dorm room in college. Dave was named after my dad because my dad said I shouldn’t get a fish. So, I did anyway. And then I named it after him. I kept Dave alive for two entire semesters. But then he died tragically when I accidentally left him in my dorm room over Spring Break. My friend, Sarah, and I buried him outside my dorm under a bush. And then we mourned.

Next there were the four Beta fish that Sarah and I bought a year later when we moved into an apartment together. We named them Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha. Sex and the City was big back then. Our four fishy friends sat on a bookshelf and were happy and healthy. But then Sarah and I decided to put a light over them so that they had some “sunshine.” This, unfortunately, caused tumors to grow on most of the fish. In multiple places. Sarah and I then were grossed out by our fish and so we called our friend Eric to come over and flush them down the toilet for us. We didn’t really mourn that time.

Finally, there was George W. George W. was my fish my senior year of college. He lived in my office which, at the time, was in the basement of the Capitol building in Tallahassee. It was an election year and George W. Bush had just been elected. I named the fish George W. not because of any affiliation I had with the President, but because whenever something wacky happened in politics, my co-workers would come into my office and vent their frustrations to the President, George W. One time, a bill that my department wanted to pass wasn’t passed and by the end of that day I had two lobbyists and two state legislators standing in my office, waving their hands and cursing George W.

When I graduated from college and moved out of my basement office at the Capitol, I gave George W. to my parents because Chris didn’t think we could drive him from Florida to Connecticut, where we were moving. George W. lived approximately two months in my parent’s tank before the bullying began. The other fish in the tank began to eat him, fin by fin. Eventually they ate him completely. And that death is clearly not my fault. But I did mourn.

And now, there is Bean’s fish. I like him. He looks tough. I think he can hang in our house, provided he can live through a couple good whacks from Bean and his golf clubs.

When we were at the pet store, I found this little army man to go in the bowl with him. I thought that would add the sufficient amount of “boy” to Bean’s fish. Though once I got him all set up in Bean’s room, I wondered if it was a little too violent. Eh, well. Maybe I’ll get creative and paint a little peace sign on him and a daisy at the end of his gun.

Eh, probably not.

When Chris got home from work, he brought a big gallon fish bowl with him from his office. It was formerly his candy bowl. But he’s willing to make sacrifices for his child’s well being. And also I called him at work and yelled at him until he agreed to bring it home.

Now, I think everything for our fish is perfect.

Except, we don’t have a name yet. And that’s where you guys come in. I’m going to let you all vote on what we should name our fish. This is an important election, people. Every vote counts when a fish’s name is at stake.

First, let me tell you our options and why:

Squishy - A blog reader actually suggested this one on Twitter and the minute I saw it, I knew exactly why it was perfect. In Bean’s favorite movie, Finding Nemo, there is a part where Dori finds another fish and says, “I shall call him Squishy and he shall be mine. And he shall be my Squishy.”

Lieutenant Dan – I like this one because the fish is in a bowl with a soldier. Just makes sense. And it would always be pronounced with a Southern accent, just like Forest Forest Gump.

Now, those are your choices, so vote below and we’ll name the fish whatever the people decide.

God Bless America.