We're in the news again? Why am I scared?

No, I don't mean our church. I mean Lakebay, the area where I live. It's gotten to the point that every time I hear that we're in the press, I automatically assume it's not good.

A couple years ago we made the Seattle news when the local food bank was robbed. I even got some airtime on a news broadcast on that one.

Then there was the time our local fire commissioner beat another fire commissioner over the head with a coffee mug. That one made news all over the country.

Last month we had the infamous vandalism case at the Longbranch Improvement Club and the Longbranch Community Church.

And now it's all about the "Wild-West-Style shootout" following a botched home invasion robbery last night. We've got all the big-time news crews over here now. Seattle must think we're really uncivilized.


If you look at this article in the Seattle Times, the bright red dot on the google map is actually sitting on top of my house. Which wasn't the crime scene, so don't worry about us.

For the record, I think Lakebay is a wonderful place to live. It's got its share of cranks and ne-er-do-wells, but it certainly deserves some better press for the sense of community, for the beauty of the area, for the local events and the people who work together to make this a fine place to live.

It's not a war zone out here, really. It just plays one on television.

Turning Trials Into Joy

I received an email yesterday afternoon with some bad news. Longbranch Community Church, our brothers and sisters to the south, was the victim of a vicious vandalism attack Friday night. I threw on a coat and headed down to see if we could offer any assistance. It was worse than I imagined, worse than can be described. Most windows shattered, tables overturned, bookshelves thrown to the ground, fire extinguishers emptied in the office, broken glass everywhere, doors punched through, holes hammered into walls, "I Am the Devil" written in whipped cream on a table. Every room was affected. Broken glass was showered over the floors, and out into the parking lot. It was horrendous.

Lakebay had a similar experience a dozen or more years ago, a fact some of the Longbranch people remembered. We now had a story in common. Unfortunately.

But they had some people there just beginning the process of cleaning up. And I made a few phone calls, and they made some phone calls, and word got out, and a dozen of their people showed up, and 8-10 Lakebay people showed up with work gloves and willing hearts, and a local glass guy made an emergency visit, and the local diner (Lulu's Homeport) brought some soup and sandwiches. And the glass was cleared out, bookshelves were set back up, trash cans were run off to dumpsters in the area, floors were mopped and vacuumed, and I realized in the midst of it that people were having a good time. They were laughing. They were getting to know each other, and, this being a small community, everyone was figuring out all the connections they had with each other. Young people and old were on their hands and knees picking up glass shards and scrubbing tables. Men were up on ladders securing the broken windows with plywood.

Yes, more people came as they heard the news, and there were tears and cries of shock and anger. But a community developed. People gave up their Saturday evening to serve those who were in the midst of a tragedy. And before you knew it. . .we all shared dinner together in a cleaned-up fellowship hall. And prayers were said for victim and perpetrator alike. And love and service ruled the day. There weren't a group a churches gathered together; instead, the singular body of Christ showed up in sacrificial service. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and (I think even the Longbranch folks would agree) a marvelous blessing was borne out of a vicious attack.

A couple other items of interest:

- the vandals left the sanctuary untouched, which seems both a blessing and a little suspicious
- the vandals left some evidence behind. Perhaps enough to point a pretty sure finger at them.
- while we grieve for Longbranch Church, we also recognize the vandals hit the Longbranch Improvement Club first. They have their own pain and mess to deal with
- At least one Longbranch Church member pointed out to me, with a sure sense of irony, that the lectionary text for this morning from Luke 12 reads: "If the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into."

Sure, go ahead and take it

Last Sunday a group of us went out to the property owned by our church, property on which we hope to build someday. We've had a little bit of trouble with people dumping trash up there over the years - vacant land, on the highway, hidden by trees - it's a natural spot for ne'er-do-wells hoping to avoid transfer station fees.

Note to would-be-dumpers: Next time, try not to leave so many personal letters and envelopes. They sort of give you away (hint hint)

This time we discovered something different. About five cedar trees stripped of most of their branches. One was at least a 30-foot tree, with branches stripped at least 25 feet up. Apparently around the holidays there's a market for cedar boughs, for swag and wreaths and such. And apparently somebody decided to destroy our trees and steal our branches to make said swag and Christmas wreaths.

It's a little disgusting, looking up at these trees so marred and desecrated, and knowing somebody could care less that they belonged to somebody else. I only hope that the end result helped make Christmas festive for a family somewhere.

The price we pay for art

Last night I attended my third rehearsal with the Gig Harbor Peninsula Symphony Orchestra. And while we were all inside the Peninsula High School band room enjoying Haydn and Mozart and Gypsy Violin, while we were enjoying the wondrous gift of making beautiful music come alive. . .

Somebody broke into my Jeep out in the parking lot and stole the CD player.

Which, if you're keeping count, is the 4th CD player to be stolen out of the Jeep.

If you've been with me long enough, you may remember the trials and travails of Jeep ownership in Turlock, where I had the first three pilfered. In fact, you may remember those 6 months we lived in the apartment, where no less than 14 times I walked out in the morning to discover somebody had been rifling through the Jeep in the middle of the night. Eventually I stopped leaving anything in there of any value, so any would-be thieves simply wasted their time poking around in there. But still I'd come out to find the glove compartment open, the center console askew, the side door open. Then we moved to our house, and nary a trouble until the month before we moved to Washington, when, one last time, they broke in and stole the stereo.

Since moving up here, I had stopped thinking about it. Yes, if I was in downtown Seattle or Tacoma I'd remove the faceplate, but out here where we live? In Gig Harbor? I never even considered it. So last night, when I arrived at rehearsal, it didn't even pop into my mind to remove the faceplate and take it with me.

Now all that's left are the familiar bundle of wires and broken plastic, the calls to make to the police and insurance. . .and some of those old feelings resurfacing.

I'll admit. I prayed that God would break the legs of whoever did this. But only in such a way as to convince them of their wrong and bring them to repentence.

Merry Christmas and Bah Humbug.