To Catch A Thief

Ever since I could read or even just imagine things I loved mysteries and crime stories!  From the Hardy Boys to Encyclopedia Brown, from Alfred Hitchcock's To Catch A Thief to the WB's Veronica Mars, from the classic Sherlock Holmes to Law and Order episodes.  I love them all.  My grandmother once got me a book of "Whodunnits," which was essentially a book of crimes and mysteries you needed to solve, and I would sit for hours on end going through mysteries.  Putting together the puzzle pieces and pinpointing the culprit of a crime is like a high for me.  The rush of quickly putting together clues.  The brainteaser of taking note of everything around you.  The constant search for motives and methods.  I delight in it!

However, last week I found myself experiencing this first hand.  On Thursday afternoon, my laptop was stolen from a Starbucks near my apartment in Cambridge.  I had spent most of the day there writing my Newsletter and drinking Chai Tea Lattes.  But mid to late afternoon, the party was over.  My laptop had vanished and I dove into problem-solving mode.  I talked to everyone in the seats around me collecting evidence.  I surveyed the scene and retraced my steps measuring how much time my actions took.  I spoke to the employees of Starbucks, and eventually a Police Officer on duty.  I filed a report.  No more than about an hour later I had figured out exactly how my laptop was taken and who had done it.  Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing I could do.  My case was already in the Police Department's system, was being assigned a Detective, and would probably take another week or three for any real action to be taken.

I stewed in my bed on Thursday night, not able to fall asleep, replaying in my mind everything, as if I had a store of surveillance tapes.  I was overcome by powerlessness.  The feeling was reaffirmed on Monday when I returned to the "scene of the crime" and then ventured to the Police Department to file paperwork.  My case was bound by red tape. My laptop by now has probably switched hands several times, getting traded and bought in an underground market.  And I could do nothing.

Nothing, but pray.  My prayers at first in the rushed moments after I realized my laptop was gone were quick, short, scattered, and focused on retrieving my laptop.  It was a prayer for me.  That my possessions may be restored to myself.  As the day progressed, and the crime became older and older in my mind, my prayers turned from me to the man that stole it.  May he go through a conversion after reading my newsletter or seeing my background (a picture of a Rosary I took on a Road Trip last year).  Eventually, my prayers turned back to me.  They became utterances of "may I forgive him for what he has done."  Despite these fervent prayers, I felt a lack of peace.  Things still felt amiss in my heart. 

Today, though, I found peace.  My peace was restored.  In speaking to a Priest, I was reminded that one thing could never be taken from me, the only thing I truly needed--Christ himself.  So many in our world are without laptops, iPods, heck, even food and shelter, and yet, they still can find peace and joy.  And that's because we need one thing, and one thing only--our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Even the greatest of thieves can never take Him away from us. Praise God for that! 

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