One morning a couple of months ago, I woke up to find that someone had broken into Charity. Nothing was broken, but the scent of cigarette smoke and my more-than-normally disheveled glove box clued me into the fact that an unknown person was rifling through my car.
Creepy, right? I was definitely creeped out by this situation. Someone that I didn't know had been in my car! The incident was a complete surprise to me.
But, at the same time, it wasn't unexpected ... after all, I leave my doors unlocked.
For you city-folk that are crying out in protest, I promise that there is a little explanation to my madness. When I lived nestled into the rolling hills of Missouri, my dad attached the keys to the stick ... because I had (ahem ... have) the uncanny ability to lose everything. I trusted my neighbors, I trusted my friends at school, I trusted the random people of Walmart. So I left the keys in the car and I left it unlocked, often with the windows rolled down.
That habit stuck with me when I migrated to Rexburg. I still trusted my neighbors, my friends at school, and the random people of Walmart. I started carrying a purse (so the keys being attached to the stick was no longer necessary), but I left the doors unlocked. I practically invited people to steal my car as a favor to me ... but nothing happened.
I guess that's why the random betrayal of trust in the dead of night was so unexpected. As I installed a new air freshener and wiped down Charity's cracked windshield, I realized that I had a choice to make. I could either be extra vigilant in locking my car every time I left it ... or I could decide to find renewed trust and keep living my life as if nothing had ever happened.
I'm learning that my heart is a little bit like my truck. It's a little bit battered. It's a little bit weird. But I love it. It's been good to me and has kept me moving for the past 22 years. I engage my heart in everything that I do, a quality that has brought me a lot of satisfaction. I try to keep my heart unlocked and to love the people that I come into contact with as much as possible.
Most of the time, leaving my heart open has brought me more happiness than I could have ever imagined. Loving people has become my hobby. There are times, however, that I wake up to find my heart in a similar condition to my disheveled glove box. The experience stinks worse than the smell of cigarette smoke. The choice that I face after those moments is similar to the choice I faced after the break-in ... I can choose to lock my heart and withhold love ... or to find renewed trust and keep living life unlocked.
You can guess which option I chose in both scenarios.
My truck (and my heart) is still unlocked.