On Thursday, May 4, I was on a business call with a new client, talking with her about our marketing plan for the month. My husband Daniel called me on the other line. This was normal – we talked throughout the day when I was at work. I ignored it and kept chatting with my client.
But Daniel called over and over. I checked my texts.
“I’m shaking,” he wrote. “We’ve been robbed. Come home now.”
I acted like everything was OK, wrapped up my call with my client, and called my husband back right away.
“What happened?” I asked.
“They stole everything from my bus,” he said. “Come now. And call the police.”
I rushed to get my daughters from daycare first; the school had called and said they were both not feeling well. I called the Los Angeles Police Department and was on hold for 45 minutes in the meantime. By the time my daughters got in the car, I hung up because I didn’t have any hope that someone was going to help me.
When we got in, Daniel frantically told me what happened. He saw on the security camera footage that just five minutes before he got home, at 2 p.m., a man had broken into his mobile recording studio, which is housed inside a school bus in our backyard. A man with an orange mask had jumped over our neighbor’s wall and into our yard. He saw our daughter’s play house and looked inside to see if she was there.
Then he went over to the bus, got in, and looked around. He went to our garage, found a bag, and dumped out the Pesach items that were inside of it. He proceeded to go back into the bus and take $25,000 worth of recording equipment, including cameras, microphones, and headphones. My husband’s ability to make a parnassah was gone, just like that.
I shuddered at the thought of the burglar looking inside the playhouse. What if my daughter, G-d forbid, had been there?
I was also furious. I told Daniel to stay with the children as I ran around the neighborhood looking for the guy. I wanted to sock him in the face for hurting my husband. I wouldn’t do it, but I would call the police as soon as I saw him and hope they’d answer.
When I was out, Daniel called me.
“He came back,” he said, breathing heavy. “Come home now.”
Daniel had been out in the backyard assessing the damage when the burglar came back to wipe his fingerprints. When Daniel caught him, he pushed our daughters’ slide at the guy, defending his two little girls inside the house. He screamed at the guy. The guy insisted he didn’t do anything wrong, and then jumped over our gate and ran away.
A few hours later, I came down with strep throat, which Daniel had also been dealing with all week. My body shut down from the strep and the stress. I passed out twice at the hospital and slept for two days straight.
When I finally emerged from it, I thought about what I’d do if the guy came back. How I’d hurt him for hurting our family.
Now, every little sound in my backyard makes me jump. I’m scared to live in my own home. I can’t let my kids go outside and play without constant supervision. I’m looking behind my back when I walk around my neighborhood. It’s a horrible feeling.
At the same time, as an observant Jew, I know that Hashem has a plan. I feel like I’m not entirely in the darkness because everyone around me has stepped up to show support.
My mother-in-law, who lives in New York, ordered for us delicious food for Shabbat from one of the best kosher restaurants in LA, Lenny’s Casita. Multiple friends brought over food and flowers. People have been texting, calling, and emailing day and night to check on us. Others have donated to our GoFundMe to rebuild the mobile recording studio, called The Podcast Bus.
Someone told us that this was a kappara and if we knew what Hashem was saving us from, we’d hug the burglar who did this to us. Well, I’m not there yet, but I’m hopeful that the truth of the situation will be revealed in time.
Throughout my life, all the bad I’ve experienced has only led to good. It was only part of the journey. Without the bad, I wouldn’t appreciate the good. I know that this is for the best.
The burglar may have made us feel unsafe and violated. He may have stolen our stuff. But the one thing he could never touch, the one thing he could never steal, is my emunah.
To donate to the GoFundMe for The Podcast Bus, visit gofundme.com/f/rebuild-the-podcast-bus or email me at [email protected].
