Jake was telling me yesterday at Sunday School about a friend of his (we'll call him Good Neighbor Sam) who happened to come home from work one afternoon last week just as a gentleman stepped off the porch next door, with FedEx box in hand. GNSam went up to him and asked what the guy was doing. Guy said something unintelligible. Sam took the box, looked at the address, and saw it was indeed intended for the folks next door. Sam asked if the guy had recently changed his name. Guy ran off. Sam kept the box until folks came home, then delivered it after making a telephone call to the owners. Now, GNSam is a big burly intimidating guy, and I'm not. So while I applaud his actions, it makes me want to ask that all y'all out there take caution this season, and don't get into something you can't easily get out of.
Trying to get ready for the day's scheduled events and and out the door last Saturday morning was a real pain. The doorbell kept ringing. Luckily, I can see out but no one can see in. Tales from the general populace such as Jake's about other encounters this time of year have made me wary. I didn't mind opening the door to the neighbor kids asking me to please throw their ball back over the fence. And I didn't mind talking to the sweet young things out selling pretty papers and pretty ribbons for the high school band, although I didn't need to buy their wares. But I drew the line at answering when I looked out and saw three husky hoodie-clad gentlemen of indeterminate status standing ready to shove their way inside if I had opened the door. I don't care what they were selling or even if their collection cause was a good one, they didn't get to talk to me. Heck, even the guys walking around carrying Bibles don't get an opening. Hubby has the right idea, he answers the door armed and ready.
But then anyone who regularly looks at our house would have known he wasn't home that day, because the car was gone. And I have no idea who might be watching, or when. Because when I got up at 3:30 Sunday morning and walked into the kitchen for a wake-up-cup, I noticed the living room was brighter than normal. But not from lamps in our house, it was from a spot light, and someone trying to look into my home. Before I could react and dial 911 the light was off and they were gone.
These are desperate times, guys. And desperate times call for desperate measures. Don't take anything for granted. Keep ALL your doors locked, and that includes the one from the garage to the inside of the house. Look out to see if anyone is lurking on the street before you open the door to go out for the mail. And for pete's sake, don't be a hero. Good intentions are worth nothing if the result is you getting hurt.
Hugs, peace, and joy.
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