Saturday, December 6, 2014

The Schwartz's vs What Really Matters

3 weeks ago my cell phone was stolen from me at church.  I have been angry, hurt, and depressed about this.  I know that seems silly.  I understand that it even sounds dumb to still be whining about it weeks later.  I have tried to get over it.  I have tried to let it go.  I have, honestly, because who seriously wants to be that person pissed off because their cell phone was stolen.

But the problem is, it wasn't the cell phone that was stolen.

It was my peace of mind.  It was knowing that when I go to church I am surrounded by people who love me.  Who look after me and my kids, as I look after them and theirs.

It was a sense of home and community that was stolen from me.  It was a scared place that was violated.  Somewhere that when the storms of life are raging I can always go to and find peace and love.

It was 5 years worth of pictures and memories.  I wept bitterly for hours when my phone was stolen.  I knew whether it was recovered or not, those were gone.  Some of them yes are on Facebook, some are on Instagram, some were uploaded to this blog.  But so many weren't.  So many videos were only there.  Silly songs my daughter makes up.  Sweet moments between the kids.  First giggles.  Things that I could always quickly go to my phone to see and share with them.

Over the weeks there have been times when I thought I was ok, but then Sarah would ask to see a picture or something and it was only on my phone and I was sad again.

Days after it was stolen my physical phone was recovered.  We know who stole it.  And that's what he did.  He didn't find a lost phone.  Those you turn in.  He stole it.  He used it.  He texted his friends with it, which was the key to finding out for sure who had it because once my old phone was replaced a text message came into my new phone looking for him.  He stole it, erased the data and intended to keep it.  When confronted he lied until he was told the evidence that we had and that we intended to file a report.  He handed it over but it was gone.

So yes, my physical phone was recovered.  The memories were not.  My peace and joy I find in my church building was not.  It's gone.

It's gone and I don't know how to get it back.  I really thought I was going to be ok.  And maybe I would have but the first person I saw when I walked in the door tonight for our ward Christmas party was that boy who stole my phone.

I saw him.  I looked him dead in the eye and he didn't care.  He didn't care at all that he stole from me something so plain and precious.  Something so dear to me.  He even had the audacity to still lie to me.  To my face.  Like I didn't know who he was or what he had done.

And I lost it.  I LOST it.  And I probably will lose it again and again.  Because right now, I'm still not ok.  I'm hurt.  I am angry.  I am deeply wounded and it has nothing to do with a small electronic that I easily replaced the next day.  It has everything to do with the sense of community, peace, and joy that came from being in a building full of people who I felt at home with that I cannot find right now.  It is gone.  And he stole it from me.

But thank goodness for little miracles.  Because as heart broken as I am I sat down to start working another project and I booted up the CD that came in the mail today.

And the still small voice whispered to me, this is what really matters.


  1. This is the best blog I've read tonight. And one of the best you've ever written.

  2. Oh, Natalie. My heart aches for you. I'll be praying for you. That is a gorgeous photo of your beautiful family. I'm sorry for your loss, friend.

  3. Oh my goodness! This breaks my heart! You're right though, stealing takes away more than just the item taken. I have tried to be better about saving my phone photos/videos to my computer because I really would cry for days if I lost them.