Unexplained Music

I can’t remember a more beautiful autumn; the trees are spectacular this year, in shades of gold and bronze and orange. A hint of woodsmoke hangs in the air, and the nights are cold and clear. I have to think God loves this season, to spend so much time in the details.

We spent last Sunday with my younger brother Alan; he was being ordained as a deacon in his church, and asked us to attend. I was just seven years old when he was born, and my brother Todd arrived the following year. The two of them became my  responsibility every day after school and all day on weekends and during the summer. Because of that, there is a bond between us that is deeper than I can explain.

Alan was a cranky and colicky baby who grew up to be the kindest and gentlest of men. His first wife Carma died from multiple myeloma in 1998, and she is the reason I chose to go to work in the Myeloma Clinic.  Their daughter Erin was eight years old when her mom died, and Alan remained a single dad, raising Erin by himself.  Several years ago, he fell in love with a single mom named Diana; they married, and together now have a son, Zak. Erin is almost 23 now, a beautiful young college graduate, who is engaged to be married next year. All of us adore Diana, and she has been such a stable and loving force in Alan’s life, and a wonderful stepmom to Erin. Carma would be so pleased.

The Friday before, I had spent the morning with Sissy, Summer and Emmi, shopping and running errands. Summer needed a few items from Target, so we parked in the space closest to the store. I grabbed a cart, Summer wiped it down with disinfectant wipes, I put Emmi’s shopping cart cover in it, and Sissy strapped Emmi in. It takes a village, you know. As we were walking away, I pointed my remote and clicked "Lock."

Fast forward and hour and a half later; walking back to the car, the first thing I see is a CD cover lying on the ground beside my driver’s door. Absently, I picked it up, thinking I must have knocked it out of the car as I was getting out. When I opened the driver’s door, I noticed my Bible CD’s were missing out of the doorwell where I always keep them. Even then, I thought maybe Chuck had moved them when he was working on my car.

The inside of my car just looked wrong; then it hit me: my checkbook was gone. So was my registration and proof of insurance. So was the soft green shirt my friend Diane had given me. And my Bible CD’s hadn’t been moved, they were gone. My car had been broken into in the broad daylight in the Target parking lot, with hundreds of people coming and going.

When something like that happens, your mind just shuts down; it refuses to process information. I couldn’t think of the name of my bank, didn’t know what to do. All I could manage to do was to call Chuck. He was very calm, told me he’d call the bank, and he asked me if I had called the police yet. No, I hadn’t; that was my next step.

While we waited for the officer to arrive, Sissy searched the parking lot and trash cans, but came up empty-handed. Mentally I was kicking myself: I never take my checkbook anywhere. Ever. The only reason I had it that day was because we had decided to stop by a yard sale one of our friends was having, and I took it in case we found something we liked. That one day was the only time that checkbook had been outside of my desk in the past three years or longer.

After what seemed like an eternity, the police finally arrived and took my information. Afterward, we were in no frame of mind to eat lunch as we had planned, so I just headed home; a great big lump had formed in my stomach and I couldn’t have eaten for any amount of money. As we were exiting the parking lot, I stopped the car and said, "Let’s pray for whoever broke into my car." And so we did.

Sissy kept Emmi at my house, while Summer went with me to the bank. I was totally overwhelmed, and was so thankful to have her at my side. The lady at the bank was so kind, and so compassionate; she cancelled my ATM card then closed out my checking account and opened a new one.  She gave me a list of persons and agencies that would need to be contacted, and told me to call her on Monday.

Back home again, Chuck had stopped and gotten sandwiches for everyone; I still couldn’t eat even a bite.  Summer said, "Mom, you’re taking this really well." I just smiled at her; mentally I was busy trying to keep myself from flying into a million little pieces.  Later, after everyone had gone home, I finally just curled up in a ball and cried the tears of frustration that I had been holding back all afternoon. The police had called me by then, and had seen the theft on the surveillance tape; the officer said the man was walking around the parking lot checking door handles, and mine just "popped open." Maybe I pushed the wrong button on my remote, maybe I was out of range, maybe it was just his lucky day. A million maybies.

After all the tears had been cried, I prayed again. I refuse to live in turmoil and I refuse to worry. I asked my Heavenly Father to take this situation from me and to give me peace. It didn’t happen instantly, but within a matter of a few minutes I felt a weight being lifted. He reminded me that every check that was stolen had a scripture on it; the checkbook cover was embossed with a silver cross. Even the CD’s were recordings of His Word. He reminded me that His Word will never return void, but will accomplish that which He pleases. I could finally let it go, and I could realize that all this man took was stuff. He could never touch the things that are really important.

And s

o that is where I am, just over a week later on this cold November night. Safe and warm and at peace, and I pray that you are as well. I have a brand new checking account, and someone else has a checkbook filled with worthless checks. I have forgiven him, but I still pray for this man; I wonder what circumstances would cause someone to do something so wrong and so unkind.  How broken do you have to be, to steal from someone who has worked all her life? Just a middle class person, not wealthy, not driving a flashy car. I wonder what kind of person he is, and what his life must be like. I am long past the point in my life where I have to know why something happened; my Father knows the whys, and that is more than enough for me.

My beautiful Summer with the beloved mascot Bruce Bear

Alan’s ordination: front row from nearest camera are Diana’s parents, then Zak and his cousin. Next row is Alan, my sister in law Melissa, my baby brother Todd, Erin’s fiancé Jon, Erin is hidden behind Jon, next is Chuck, then Sissy holding Emmi, me, Summer and Tay on the far end.

Alan, the master chef, cooking for all of us

 

Alan, daughter Erin and wife Diana. Good friend Greg in the background. Sissy had brought Alan our mom’s Bible as a gift, and inside it was a tiny picture of our mom with a very young Erin. That’s what Erin is holding.

I’ll try to explain this: the day of Alan’s ordination was also Diana’s birthday. Alan is the humblest and most unassuming man in the world. Because of that, our brother Todd, who is the family comedian, has concocted this backstory that Alan thinks he is so important that the rest of us don’t have names, except who we are in relation to Alan. Therefore, I am no longer Gina, but "Alan’s oldest sister," Sissy is "Alan’s younger sister," Summer is "Alan’s niece," and so on……  So Diana is "Alan’s wife." Crazy, I know. This is a picture of the cover on the birthday cake I baked her. She absolutely loved it.

Me, in Diana’s craft room, rocking Emmi

My blue eyed Emmi