making lemonade when someone steals your lemons. wait. that doesn’t work. that would just be sugar water…

I have never had my home burglarized. Knock on wood or something similar to wood. The woodish table upon which my laptop sits.

The closest I can come to empathizing with the feeling of vulnerability you must have is when I had my wallet stolen. That sounds like a lame comparison, and maybe it is a lame comparison, but it sure felt important when it happened.

I was eighteen when a group of us went on a mission trip to Australia. It was the first time I’d ever been out of the country and only the second time I’d ever been on an airplane. I’d saved up for months for the trip and ended up with around $500 in spending money (for things like gifts, food, transportation, or to buy my own koala bear or family of koala bears).

I left my wallet in the airport bathroom. For maybe five minutes. With the whole $500 shebang in it. (Because who can trust those baggage handlers?!? You’ve got to be a few grapes short of a fruit salad to leave your money in your suitcase. Much better to carry it with you in your sparkly pink wallet so that you know it’s with someone who is reeeesponnnnsibllllle.) When I realized and got back to the stall, it was gone. Shocker. When I asked Airport Security, the guy took my name and address but he said, “No one ever turns in wallets. Not since I’ve been here has anyone ever turned in a wallet.” This shocked my little teenaged self. I would turn in a wallet if I ever found one. Actually, I found a wallet a few months ago and did just that. Long story short, however, nobody ever turned the wallet in. Luckily, I had my ID in my pocket, so I was still able to travel out of the country that day.

Anyway, I figured that, even though you do yoga, you are probably just a teensy bit mad mad mad about the whole affair. I wanted to figure out a way to encourage you, so here is my list of positive things that may come from your home being burglarized, even though the positive things are probably not worth a whole 10000-words-of-a-novel or a wedding ring. Ahem. Anyway. Silver lining. Here you go:

  1. You now get to say, “It was probably stolen” in a dramatic- or forlorn-sounding voice whenever you lose something, misplace something, throw away something you’d like to get rid of but someone else doesn’t want you to get rid of, or generally just don’t want to look for the thing that has been requested. I can imagine lots of scenarios where this might be helpful. In fact, I have actually utilized this excuse, so I can vouch for its validity. When Scott and I were moving into our first house, my dad packed a whole bunch of our stuff in the back of his pickup truck, MacGuyver-style. The truck looked ridiculous. Well, a box fell out and shattered all over the freeway. There were a bunch of random things in that box: candlestick holders, bed sheets, a CD case filled with a bunch of CDs. And still, to this very day, I think of more and more stuff that was in that box.  It’s remarkable how much fit in that tiny box. Unbelievable, really.
  2. You might get a nice piece of new jewelry out of it. Granted, it won’t be the same. It won’t be as sentimental and important as your original ring. But maybe it will have bigger diamonds? Does Chris read this blog? (Hi, Chris. I know you read this blog because you called me out on misspelling Justin Beiber/Bieber/Beeber/Beaber/Beebeer one time.)
  3. Did you read #1? Cuz that was a good one.
  4. If you ever do kickboxing, you will have a good imaginary target. It would have been much easier to be all Les Miserables about everything if those jerks just would have left the wedding ring. Geez, people. Thieves would get a whole lot better PR if they’d realize things like this. Steal the television, but leave the wedding ring. Steal the wallet, but leave the Driver’s License and the GAP card– because, really, you’re not going to go to GAP, are you, Burglar? Steal the car, but leave the kid’s favorite blankie from the backseat.
  5. You now have a lot of motivation to organize your closet? OK, that one sucks. Disregard that one.
  6. Your friends get the chance to show you kindness and grace. I hope this is as true for you as it was for me. Only moments after we got back and told the group that my money had been stolen, people took up a collection from their own stashes of spending money and gave me back almost as much as I had lost. It was pretty incredible, actually. I remember that much more often than I remember the feeling of something being taken from me in the first place.

Image from  Glitter Wallet – Pink

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9 thoughts on “making lemonade when someone steals your lemons. wait. that doesn’t work. that would just be sugar water…

  1. MacGuyver-style often refers to fixing complex machinery by means of bubble gum, a paper clip, duct tape, and/or a shoe lace. As a child raised on MacGuyver, avid admirer of Richard Dean Anderson, and mullet aficionado I commend your effort, but ultimately give you a C-.

    Seriously though, #1 was pretty damn funny. And I like your thinking on #2.

    • Andy, I’ve never had a mullet and I wouldn’t have been able to give you MacGuyver’s real name, so I will go ahead and grant you authority in this situation. But I really can’t accept a C-. Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough with my description. Bubble gum, paper clips, duct tape, and shoe string were all involved in the packing of the pick-up truck. And though nothing was “fixed,” plenty was “jerry rigged,” which I BELIEVE still counts. I’ll let you be the judge.

  2. Okay, you guys are back and better than ever. Or maybe absence makes the heart grow fonder. Probably both. In any case, great post.

    Here’s a #7: Get rich selling wedding rings, GAP cards, and baby blankets with microchips in them.

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