April Update: Robbed!

A week ago today, I was robbed.

Ever since I got here, people have warned me -

"Madrid is a safe city, except for one thing: theft."
"Always keep a hand on your purse, especially when you're on the metro."
"If someone offers to carry your suitcase, always say no. They may be trying to steal it."
"If someone asks you for the time, be wary. They may be trying to get into your purse while you are busy looking at your phone."

I somewhat minded, somewhat ignored all that. 'My purse is always slung securely over my shoulder,' I thought. 'And the pockets are always closed. I'll be fine.'

I didn't consider the fact that some people are experts at theft. I also didn't consider burglary.

Last Monday, my roommate Kate and I left our apartment at around 3:50 PM to buy groceries. We were aware of the time, because Kate had a dentist appointment at 5. After stopping by the bank and the corner "Chino" store for plantains, Kate and I arrived at our favorite grocery store only to find it locked up. "Closed for repairs," the sign read, "until April 5th." We checked the time - 4:15. There wasn't much time left before Kate's appointment. We should just head home and do our shopping later.

About 5 minutes later, we reached our floor and emerged laughing from the elevator, only to see a sight that made us hesitate. Puzzled, I took in the scene in front of me - door ajar, papers strewn on the floor of the apartment. Did we forget to close the door when we left? But, no - that wouldn't explain the papers on the floor. Did the cat go crazy? It wasn't until Kate said what she did that I considered the alternative.

"Someone broke into the apartment," she said, putting a hand on my arm to stop me from going any further.

Then I noticed a few details I had missed earlier - the slivers of wood on the floor at the base of the door, my open makeup pouch on the entry room chair, overturned. Just as I stepped towards the apartment to have a closer look, Kate stepped backward, in the direction of the stairs.

"Pssst!" she whispered at me. "Come here!" motioning for me to follow her down the stairs. I followed her down the stairs, down, down to a door between the first and second floors, to where our doorwoman, Marcia, lives. We didn't have to explain much to Marcia. Slippers on her feet and saw in hand, she followed us up to the apartment, where she agreed with Kate that we shouldn't enter, then down to the bottom floor, where we waited until the police arrived.

The rest of the day was filled with policemen, a criminologist, and lots of phonecalls, as we discovered exactly what had been taken.

Strangely enough, although there are 5 of us, and each of us had a laptop in our rooms, in plain sight, not a single laptop was taken. Phoebe's phone and iPad were still there. Cielo's iPod and Levi's jeans were fine. Maritza's TV was untouched.

"They never take stuff like that," the policemen explained, "because they are too easily tracked. What they look for is cash and jewelry. Things that can't be traced."

Sure enough, my wad of cash from inside my closet was missing - my tithe for the next two months and the money I had set apart to pay for an upcoming church retreat. And then there was my makeup pouch - empty. Well, of course, I had only brand-name items in there. Several days, later, I realized they had also stolen a Nordstrom sweater of mine. Kate was missing some US dollars from a pouch, and Maritza a pair of sunglasses. Other than that, and a general mess in our bedrooms, nothing else seemed off.

The sweater in question

Oh, and those woodchips on the floor? Those were from where the burglars had somehow sliced through the screws that secured the latch to the door frame.

What a feeling of utter vulnerability!

As I walked to a makeup store later that day, I found that something had changed. Where before I would have smiled at the people passing by, now I viewed them suspiciously. Is that one a thief? Or that one? They all look normal, but how am I to know?

I've had a few days to process this, and a few things encourage me:

1. God knew what would happen.

The morning of the burglary, I read Proverbs 28, which says, among other things,

"Better is a poor man who walks in his integrity
than a rich man who is crooked in his ways."

Whoever broke into our apartment will have their appointment with God one day, and I will have mine. If I present myself before Him as a poor person, may I at least be an honest poor person!

Also, just the fact that God led me to that scripture that morning makes me smile. He knew what would happen, and He was faithful to prepare my spirit to receive it.

2. Nothing was taken that I can't replace or live without.

In fact, when you get to thinking about what they stole from me, it's not hard to see at least one reason why God permitted it. 

I mean, come on - 

Money.

Makeup.

Clothing.

Greed (or stinginess) and vanity come to mind? These are both vices I've been convicted of. Keep on cleansing, Lord! (But, please, no more burglaries! 🙏)

3. There are more important things to focus on.

The same day as the burglary, our doorwoman told us she had gone to church on Sunday. Maritza has been inviting her to church for the past four years! We are just so happy that she decided to take that step outside of her comfort zone, to see if God would meet her (and I believe He did).

"Hearing that made the whole burglary business disappear," Maritza said later. And she's so right. Someone else's eternity is way more important than our temporal possessions.

I can just add this to the chronicles of this Spanish adventure!

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I've run out of steam for today, but let's do this: If you have a question about my time here, why don't you ask it in the comment section (on Blogger or on Facebook - either is fine)? If there are indeed some questions, I'll address them next week! 😉

To read more from the Spain saga, click on one of the links below:
July: The Comeback
August: While I'm Waiting
October: An Exercise in Trust
November: Spain-bound!
December: Wanted
January: Building an Altar
February: The Great Adventure

Hasta pasta, 

Dahlia