Watching the Storm Roll In

There comes a time for all bloggers when you question whether or not to talk about something in your blog. You have to decide if you want to cross that line. Well, this is my time. I've decided to share something with you. Maybe because if I put it out there, I can move on. Or maybe because if one of you has been through something similar, you can offer me some advice. So here goes.

Over a week ago, my husband, my two babies, Wilbur and myself set off to drive cross-country to my parent's farm in Idaho. We left one evening, and by midnight, Wyatt started getting sick. Really sick. We ended up stopping at the Toledo, Ohio Children's Hospital. I thought they'd give him an IV and he'd be fine. Well, he wasn't. It was very scary. They ended up admitting him to the hospital. I spent the first day sitting next to his crib, holding his limp little hand that was all bandaged up with tubes taped all over it. He was so sick, and so pitiful, all I could do was cry. After two days without sleep, I started to doze off in the hospital chair.

My phone rang.

It was my husband, calling to tell me that our car was broken in to. While I was at the hospital with Wyatt, he and Liberty were staying at a hotel. The hotel security guard scared them off. But not before they got my purse. I never leave my purse, or anything valuable in the car. And either does my husband. But that night, he had to carry my sleeping daughter and puppy and an overnight bag in to the hotel. As he was getting ready to go back to the car to bring our stuff in, hotel security called.

In my purse was my first Blythe doll, Fiona (those of you who have been reading my blog will be familiar with her), our digital camera, and a bunch of "little things": baby toys, diaper, wipes, a book...you know how Mom purses are.

And my wedding rings.

That's right. A complete bad stroke of luck that they were even in there. There is no material object that cannot be replaced, other than my wedding rings. I know we've all heard these stories before.

I was not prepared for the emotional turmoil this would bring. Every day I try to focus on the important things: Wyatt is healthy again (after 3 days at the Children's Hospital), it could've been a lot worse, and my family is safe. My husband missed crossing paths with these criminals by minutes.

But I cannot get over the disgust that someone out there has my things. Someone has my wedding rings. The rings I was supposed to wear for a lifetime. Gone in a matter of minutes.

What really disgusts me, is that these criminals walked up to my car, looked in the window, saw two little car seats, and smashed my windows, filling the carseats with shards of glass. When they got away with my purse, they saw a mom's purse. Toys, diapers. Did they ever pause and think about the family they had affected? What we now have to go through? Weeks and weeks of insurance claims, paperwork, and car repairs. We had to get the windows replaced. We need to get the damaged passenger door replaced, new keys, new locks, new ignition keys (because they have my keys as well), we're still finding pieces of glass all over the interior of the car. We have to file three insurance claims: one for the damage to the car, one for my jewlery, and one for all the stolen goods. Along with that we have to meet three separate deductibles.

But will I ever feel safe again? Will I ever stop thinking "what if"?

Tonight I sat on the front porch of my parent's farmhouse and watched a storm roll in. It was so quiet, just the distant sounds of thunder, the smell of rain and a cool breeze. The storm stayed for awhile, then was gone. And like a cliche, the sun broke through the clouds and I saw a rainbow.

Thanks for the sign, Big Guy. I know you're looking out for me.