Yesterday, on New Year’s Eve morning 2015, I headed off for work, marveling as I usually do, at the peaceful lifestyle we currently enjoy. In the stillness of the freezing crisp early morning air, the openness of the valley was like a picture framed by snow covered mountains merging into the clouds against the background of clear light blue sky. My first fascination with this place was because of the qualities of clean air, pure water, friendly people, and even during these deep snowy seasons of winter, the sun shines more days than not.
The move after 38 years of living in a Western Washington bay side city was prompted largely because it seemed to be getting more crowded with increasing rates of crime. It use to be nerve racking to hear a high speed police chase roaring down the street in front of our house, no kidding, at least once a week. Every day was interrupted by emergency sirens screaming around the city. So for several years, we have enjoyed the change to the peaceful atmosphere typical of our quiet, friendly, North Central Washington high desert town. Except for the fact our close friend here in “Frontier-land” was murdered in cold blood, it is generally a place where most locals know everybody, we greet each other with smiles and “hello’s,” and we wave at each other in our vehicles passing by.
A week ago, on Christmas Eve, many here like every year, were waiting for Santa. But this is my first New Year’s Eve of “waiting for the police to come.” It wasn’t actually me waiting for the police; I learned this when I sent a text just before 7:00 p.m. asking my husband, are you coming to the gathering? His text response was, “I’m waiting for the police to come. I’m not in trouble. I'll tell you about it when you get home.”
Coincidentally, moments before, on leaving my office, exit roads were blocked by flashing lights of police cars. They were checking each car that went by. A friendly officer told me they were looking for someone who fled on foot from a stolen vehicle. But that was a few miles away from our house which is up the highway from town.
This holiday police activity was an ironic reminder that a year ago, December 2014, our house did get robbed. The police did come do a walk-through the house and take our statements for a report. They said we should start locking our doors because of bad guys looking for guns and drugs. With neither guns nor drugs on hand, the only two things taken were a camera, and unfortunately, my jewelry box containing all of my gold family heirlooms. All the wiser, we did start locking our doors. So I was anxious to find out the details of what was going on with my husband waiting for the police at home.
Did I rush home to see what was up? No. Did I call on the phone to ask more questions, like,"did you get in a wreck?" No. Did I want to know what the hell happened? Yes. But instead, in that moment, I decided to wait for more to be revealed. This was an opportunity to practice what I teach. When an idea occurred, like maybe he witnessed an accident or a crime, or maybe something bad happened to a neighbor, each time, instead of entertaining the worry thoughts, I focused on the present moment. I decided to practice staying grateful for the immediate experience I was having. I stayed mindful of my great good fortune to be gathered with sober spiritual friends, sipping coffee and talking honestly of how blessed we feel to meet together, alive and growing, one day at a time.
On arriving home an hour or so later, I walked in greeted by the sound of my husband singing the words to the TV theme song from “COPS,” “Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do when they come for you…” He told me of an earlier knock at the door, by a stranger, a young Native man, who “looked about 19.” The young man reportedly must have seen the truck warming up in the driveway and asked my husband, “You going to town, can I get a ride?” Bear in mind it was 5 or 10 degrees f. outside, and there's nothing much around us. So the young man was invited, “Sure come on in, get warm for a minute by the stove while the truck warms up.”
My husband said on the way to town, they were passed by police cars with lights flashing, headed toward our house. The thought he said crossed his mind, "might they be looking for the stranger he was helping?" Maybe they were, maybe they weren't, who knows. I have no idea, and the police never did come by the house to see my husband, or to ask questions as he expected.
The reminder to me of last night's New Year’s Eve police activity, was the feeling of last year’s loss. Not so much feeling the loss of material things that cannot be replaced, but the loss of the appearance of safety. Stuff can happen, and does happen, regardless of where we live. Yet the sense of safety because of environment, cannot compare to the feeling of soul connection to a Power that is greater than any problem we have. The grateful lesson reported from a man once robbed at knife point, was expressed this way: “Tonight I was robbed of my wallet, but not of my life. I was robbed of all the money I had, but it wasn’t that much. I am grateful for the fact that I was the one who was robbed, instead of the one who was doing the robbing.” There, but for the Grace of God, go I.
False alarms can be something for which to be grateful, just as much as feeling safe and supported. This first day of the new 2016 year, represents many opportunities to celebrate being together in spirit, and with a focus on goodness, enjoying simple, peaceful lives, of trust and connection.
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