Upset and shaking, we quickly called the police, only to find out that they had the burglars in custody earlier that day and released them. Apparently, they didn’t have enough to hold them because we weren’t home to report anything missing. The police assured us that the two teenage boys were harmless; just petty thieves and that they would pick them up first thing in the morning. They instructed us to make a list of everything that was missing and bring a copy of it to the station the next morning. We sat down to try and remember all of our belongings that we had taken for granted for so long, and suddenly were stripped of. And then it hit us like a freight train…What on Earth were we going to tell our children on Christmas morning?

The following morning, after no sleep, my family and I took our little list to the police station, as instructed. We were a pitiful bunch, dwelling on how horrible our luck was and how unfair we’d been treated. What had we done to deserve this? Who on Earth would steal Christmas from a child? Who could commit such a heinous crime? And how in the world were we ever going to be able to overcome this pain and fear? The police offered some comfort when they told us that a few of our belongings were recovered. But, that still left us with only one day to replace our children’s presents. With our newfound hope that this nightmare may finally be coming to an end, we hurried home to prepare for a long day of shopping and wrapping. Our plans and hope to overcome this tragedy were shattered when once again, the Lord tested us.

As we turned the corner to our lonely little street, we were met with police cars, smoke bellowing out our windows and every fireman in town trying his best to save what they could. I got out of the car with my husband and we both fell to our knees with grief. Everything that had been taken from us just the night before seemed so meaningless as we watched our home burn and what was left of our belongings thrown on the front lawn. I began to beg the Lord for forgiveness of whatever it was that I had done to deserve this and asked for his guidance. We watched in awe for what seemed an eternity and finally the smoke started to thin. Through the ashes in the air, I saw the fire chief walking toward us. He was carrying my family Bible. He handed it to us with tears in his eyes and urged us to come with him to look through what used to be our bedroom window. What we saw left us humbled and very much in shock.

Before the fire, we had a simple wooden crucifix on the wall above our bed that had belonged to my husband’s aunt. The crucifix was completely gone, as was the wall surrounding it. But the wall behind it had been perfectly preserved. I mean the wall in the hottest room of the house and perfectly preserved all the way through from the front to the back of my daughter’s wall adjacent to ours. It sent chills racing through my veins. One of the fireman cut that piece of the wall out for us to keep. At the time it just reminded me that such a sentimental and protecting symbol was destroyed. But, its meaning would later be revealed to me.

Our families began arriving, bringing with them their love, support and their help. Our priest showed up to offer his help and love too. I really don’t think we could have made it had it not been for all of them. Our hopes for a better life, a brighter future and at one brief point MY faith, were taken from us that day by the same two boys who had taken it from us the night before. They had not yet been arrested when we left for the police station and I guess they either didn’t steal enough the night before, they wanted revenge for us reporting it, or there are some people who are just that evil in this world. I will never know the answer to that question and I’m really not sure if I want it. So, here we were with nothing in the world but each other. To say the least, it ruined my Christmas spirit. But, that wonderful spirit would soon be restored and stronger than it has ever been.

As we sifted through the ashes that once was known as our life, our anger and self-pity consumed us. God, then gave me another sign of reassurance. On our “coffee table”, I found my prayer book lying there in a pile of burned magazines and books as if it had never seen the fire at all. It brought me some comfort. I looked at our family and our friends covered in soot who had dropped everything in their busy lives to come be by our sides and I felt a love and sense of unity that had long been absent in our lives. It was this and what happened over the next couple of weeks that renewed my faith and will forever touch my heart.

Strangers began stopping by our home and hotel room to offer their help. They would drop a few dollars as they could afford, Christmas gifts for our children, clothes, food , offer a place to stay, or just to tell us how sorry they were that something like this had happened and my children had one of the best Christmas mornings ever. I began to see how wonderful, caring and basically good people can be to each other and it finally made me see what the Lord was trying to show me. I saw that God was not punishing me for the things I had done wrong, he was simply offering me a new start. In losing everything, I found myself and what was most important in life: my family, my friends and the love we share and most of all a renewed faith in the Lord and His actions.

Christmas is about new beginnings. The new beginning of the world was set in motion on this day, with the birth of our Savior. He too endured much suffering and heartaches during his life on Earth. The Lord tried him as he tries us. And because of His ultimate sacrifice, and the trials we overcome, we too have the chance to share in eternal happiness. So, the next time you’re wallowing in a pool of self-pity and asking God, “Why me?”, just remember that you are not alone in your suffering and that He will reveal his plan for you. All YOU have to do is look for it. Merry Christmas, and God Bless!