I arrived at my property, excited to have successfully cleared my calendar for 4 whole days.  This was to be my planning retreat.  I was eager to sit in my favorite chair, the breeze from the ridge keeping me cool, as I attempted to peer into the future and see with more clarity what is unfolding this fall.

When I opened the trailer door I knew something was wrong.  The cushions were thrown around the room, items I knew I had stowed were lying about.  My mind kept trying to find a rational excuse for what I was seeing but then it hit me, someone had been in my trailer.

Our property is very remote.  We recently set up a small travel trailer.  For nine years, this place has been my sanctuary, my place to retreat, get centered, and remember who I am in the midst of my crazy life back in Richmond.

Chris had come out to drop off a few things the prior week and he had forgotten to lock the trailer door.  I told him not to worry about it.  I never dreamed anyone would find our trailer, let alone rob us.  I was wrong.

So, to help me process this disturbing event, I decided to write the perpetrator a letter.

Dear Mr. or Mrs. Robber,

I hope you enjoy the beverages you stole from my refrigerator.  I am glad you found the pillow case from my bed to smuggle out all your treasures.  I imagine you looked kind of like Santa Claus with that green bag stuffed with my belongings thrown over your shoulder.  I assume you were on foot since you left my television.  I am sorry we had no valuables to reward you for all your hard work. 

I am a bit perplexed by a few things.  Why did you take my lawn shears and cut the end off and steal just a portion of my water hose?  You had to have moved the shorter one when you stole the electrical cable from my shed.  I am sorry my wagon broke when you were hauling up the come-a-long, wire and pick ax.  That hill can be brutal when you are hauling heavy objects. 

While you stole nothing of value.  You threated something precious to me.  You see, you desecrated a place that is holy to me.  You violated my sense of safety.  You stole my peace.  Or at least you did temporarily.

Funny thing is, I am not afraid of you.  Even if you return to take what is mine, I know I will be just fine.  You see, this is a special place.  It is my place of worship and I refuse to let you tarnish it. 

So, if you decide to return.  Make yourself at home again.  Go ahead and sleep in my bed, eat my food, take my things.  Because in the end, none of that stuff matters.  I have something you can never take from me and I pray someday you find it too.

Warmest Wishes,

Wendy

So, what do you think?  Should I nail it to the tree so he/she can find it?

I have wasted enough time focused on this lost soul.  I am going to spend the rest of my retreat focusing on the one who found me when I was lost in the wilderness.