I know, deep down, that much if not all of life is out of my control. I also know of my proclivity to ignore that reality; to try and hold tightly to anything I can; to try and live with at least the illusion that I have some power to manage my destiny and determine most of what will happen from day-to-day.

This morning ripped that fantasy away and left me standing with my mouth agape and head spinning:

My car was stolen.

I live in a safe, lovely part of town, surrounded by excellent neighbors. A number of them are friends who recognize and care about my daughters and watch out for me in kind, intentional ways. This is just not what I expected to have happen here…or to me. Apparently, I’m not in control.

The police came. I’m waiting for my insurance company to call. I’m borrowing a van from my parents. Life goes on. But not the same as it was before.

Emma doesn’t know how to reconcile her belief in humankind with this kind of unethical behavior. She burst into tears this morning and said, “I’m so mad right now, Mom. How could anyone do this?!?” Abby wonders about what this means for the future. “Can we get a Hummer now, mom?”

I have spent the morning running the mental/emotional gamut and thinking through everything from how to make
sure the girls are OK and how in the world I’ll potentially afford another car to what it will feel like if I get the old one back now knowing that someone else has been rifling through it.

It’s true: I feel like life is out of my control today. I already knew that, but it’s experiences like these that take the knowledge out of my head and into my lived-reality. Give me the fantasy any day! It’s much easier.