Hi, Dick. I don’t actually know if that’s your real name but
it seems fitting. Dick, I’m the owner of the front porch from which you swiped
a package that was delivered today. I own the property
that you trespassed on when you slithered up my driveway to rob me. The family you upset is also mine. My name is
Rachel. It’s nice to meet you.
First, let me tell you that you are gonna be so mad when you open that box. Lucky for
me, Amazon split my order into three deliveries and you stole the one that
contained nothing more than a box of 64 Crayola color crayons and a Star Wars
rebel t-shirt. Sad for you. I hope you don’t take my package to the vacant
burned-down house where you and the other crooks gather to compare loot and eat
Beanee Weenees out of cans held in your dirty, fingerless-glove-covered hands.
Because if that’s what you do, your criminal friends are going to make so much
fun of you... You can’t even burglarize
properly! Trying to imagine the look on your thief-face when you realize you just risked jail time for a box of crayons has helped ease the pain of what you did. Almost. Because whatever you did with my package after you stole it, you violated a part
of me today and I need you to be caught.
I wanted to be the one to catch you. My first instinct—and I’m
being sincere, was to kill you. I immediately began to plan my revenge. I paced up and down the street asking my
neighbors if they saw anything suspicious. I plotted, I fumed, and I cursed
you. There was a moment when I even considered finding an eye of newt and toe of frog so I could cast some sort of spell on you and your kin (that was a reference to Shakespeare, perhaps you've stolen one of his books before). Dick, I wanted to break your kneecaps with a baseball bat and maybe
I watch too many violent films but for a while, it sounded like a perfectly
valid solution.
Who are you? Let me guess: A meth addict who follows the UPS truck
around, stealing packages so you can sell the contents for drug money? Some
punk kid whose parents are failing to teach their own child how to become a decent
human being? Or are you a desperate, unemployed parent struggling to put food
on the table for your kids and you feel like this is your only hope in the world?
I have no idea who you are, Dick... Or Jane. But you need to be caught.
After the initial rage wore off, [note to self: ask around to
see if that level of fury is considered “normal”] I sat down on my bed and I
prayed for you. First I asked forgiveness for hating you
so much and for being that upset over "stuff" and then I prayed that God would get His hands on you. Not so that He would
bring you to justice, but so that He would show you His mercy. I’ve done a lot
of terrible things in my life and I've been a lousy human being at times.
And God took every dirty little bit and made me new. I’m no better than you because I've seen what's in my heart. But God loves me anyway. He loves you, too. I hope you let
Him catch you, Dick. He’ll be a lot nicer to you than I would. He’s not
full of sin and anger and way too much Die Hard. And let's face it, you need to be caught.
If you find that you don’t like the 64-crayons or if the rebel t-shirt doesn't fit, I’ve got a couple of kids here who would really love to have them back.
Merry Christmas, Dick.
Sincerely,
Rachel
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