We went to sleep like we have every other night. Mosquito nets were hung; the window was swung open for the cool night air to mosey on in; there were two girls to a bed and two beds to our room. All was quiet in the house and all lights were snuffed out for the remainder of the evening. We had peaceful, restful sleep; I only woke up once, briefly in the middle of the night. I looked up to guess that Carrie was opening the door, using her flashlight to find her way to the bathroom. I turned over and laid my head back down once she was out of the room. Kobe, my pillow, seemed particularly comfortable that evening.
Then in the early hours of the morning I heard someone shuffling around through our things. I opened one eye to see where all the noise was coming from and saw Carrie moving about the room. I closed my eyes and thought about what hour it might be, and then Carrie left the room. She entered again, looking for something, leaving me to wonder fleetingly what it was that could require such motivation at an hour like this, whatever hour it was. “Guys,” Carrie said with a concerned tone in her voice, “I can’t find my laptop…”
“One of the boys probably has it, Carrie,” Kelsey said from underneath the covers.
“No, I don’t think so. My backpack is moved, too. It’s over by the door and I didn’t leave it there last night.”
Suddenly, I found immediate motivation to rise from the shelter of my covers, as did Kirsten who was half asleep next to me. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked to my left at my side of the nightstand. I had left my iPod on the corner of the table just a few hours ago, now all I saw was a corner of tablecloth. I scanned up the table and saw that my wallet also wasn’t where it ought to be. “My backpack’s gone,” Kirsten numbly said.
I shot forward to look at the foot of my bed to where my daypack normally sat; all I saw was an empty space where my tan Osprey should be. “Mine’s gone, too,” I said out of shock. Just like that, my laptop, Canon SX40HS, iPod Classic, credit cards, passport and sketchbook were swiftly no longer a part of my life.
You would think that with bars on all the windows, chains and padlocks about the size of planets guarding every door and about fifteen people in the house, that the house was fool proof. Whoever broke into the house didn’t think so, apparently. One bar on the front window was broken, creating a space barely wide enough for a person to fit through horizontally. A car jack, later discovered to be from the neighbor’s broken-into car, was the tool they used to bust the frame out.
The whole ordeal felt surreal.
We didn’t freak out or go into a rage. We didn’t curse the people involved. We don’t hate these people for what they did and our joy wasn’t stolen along with our stuff. This is no deterrent from the Race or from the wonderful experience that was Rwanda. Sure, it’s unfortunate and I would have rather kept my things; however, we have our health, God is still good and life goes on.
So, I’ve got the clothes on my back and my tent in my pack (along with a few other miscellaneous things), but not a penny more to spare. Honestly, getting a little financial help for personal funds would be incredible right about now (I have about $30 to my name). If any of you guys would like to donate to help me stay afloat for the remaining months on this Race, this is how you can do it:
Go to paypal.com, click “Send Money” and it will give you the option to type in an email address to send money to- mine is [email protected]
Thank you guys for all your support you’ve given me over these past few months, it’s really meant a lot to me! Don’t stop praying (: Much love~
