Break In
by Jeffrey Pierce

Our van was broken into last night. When we came out this morning, both front doors were slightly open and it was clear the entire vehicle had been gone through. Bri and I quickly inventoried the contents and, from what we could tell, only a single item had been taken (in addition to the loose change from our ash tray).

You hear about this sort of thing happening to other people but you never think it will happen to you. When the story is told the person usually explains how they feel using a variety of common words which typically include "angry" and "violated." I could sum up the vast majority of what I felt in that moment in a single word.

Compassion.

Whether it was anger, a need to rebel, greed, or a simple need to supplement income through any means necessary, what the person who broke into our van was experiencing wasn't a healthy portion of their path. A whole, happy individual doesn't break into parked vehicles in the middle of the night. Wherever they are on their path, if the handful of loose change they were able to take from us could help them, I'm glad it could help. Had they asked, I most likely would have given them more than the few coins that were in our ash tray.

Bri felt bad as she was the last person to drive the van and, as she put it, "I'm usually so careful about locking it." The last thing that I wanted for Bri was for her to go to work, feeling like it was somehow her responsibility because she hadn't locked the van. So I ran down the sidewalk this morning, smiling and waving, keeping pace with the van as I blew her kisses until we reached the edge of the street. By the time my bare feet stopped on the corner, her brow had unfurrowed and she was smiling and waving in return.

As I turned around and headed toward home, I glanced downward. There in the neighbor's bushes was the only item we could find that had been taken from the van. Realizing its lack of value (we live extraordinarily frugal lives by American standards) they had discarded it, realizing that it wasn't worth selling or even keeping for themselves.

It's common for people to double-check that the vehicle doors are locked after such an experience and we'll be no different. However, I've decided to do one thing more.

Choosing your response and answering, "Is it love?"

In the ash tray where the loose change had been kept, I've placed two dollars and a note. It reads simply, "We don't have much, but hopefully this will help." We talked in our most recent class that we know we're responding without filters when we can positively answer the question, "Is my response love?" It's something that I believe strongly in and I do my best to live by that standard each moment of every day. Perhaps our van will be left in peace. Perhaps the note will never be found. Whatever the case may be, I believe the note and the intent behind it will do more good in the bigger scheme of things that any other action I could possibly take.

Thoughts? Comments? You can contact us at connect@oldways.com or interact with Jeffrey, Briana, and the Old Ways community on our Facebook page.

Originally published in Old Ways on August 5, 2010