The next morning, when we left the house to take Cara to school, the two trees and my wreath were gone. At first I thought the wild wind had blown them. But since Greg added the concrete bases, those weren't budging. They weren't anywhere to be found. Someone (or more likely, a few someones) had robbed me.
I remembered in 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas', how after all their Christmas stuff had been stolen, they gathered together and sang a happy song.

I did not feel such joy. I was quite perturbed, in fact. It doesn't make me feel safe in my own neighborhood any more.
Now that I have had the day to think and stew about the whole thing, I am thankful for the eternal perspective I have. I am thankful that they didn't take anything from our backyard. I am thankful I hadn't put up the garland yet. I'm thankful they didn't break into our home. I am thankful they didn't vandalize. But I'm still not quite ready to gather with my family in joyous song over the whole thing. Perhaps I need to read the story a few more times this season.









































