a history of violence

It is cold and snowy and I am melancholy and should probably give Welbutrin a second chance.

I am trying to wrestle with the idea of God being intimately interested in the affairs of Jena Brown. A few weeks ago there was a guy apprehended literally right next to my building, who had stashed his weapon somewhere and warranted a fleet of gun-sniffing dogs to enter into the alley between buildings. I have no idea where he came from, whether or not he lives next door to me or was just found there, but it was next door. New Year's Eve I was having a washer delivered and a guy broke into the Sears guy's truck and ripped off his GPS. Luckily the Sears guy was from Brockton and chased him down the street and was able to retrieve it. That was directly in front of the buliding. I brought a bunch of students over to my area to prayer walk and to initiate spiritual conversations with my neighbors at the T and they were all scared of my area and didn't think of it as safe or clean or worthy. A fellow staff even wrote to his supporters that he was over in a *rough and tumble* neighborhood doing ministry (we support him so we got the email). I absorbed their fear and apprehension.

Monday night I came back from this conference because my boy had a stomach bug and we were in the bathroom all night into Tues AM. I was crazed and kept waking up and felt something weird in the wee morning hours. Later that evening we were getting in our car to go to dinner when we saw a bunch of flashed coming from the other address of our buliding (ours is a triple decker with six units...two addresses, three units on either side) on the second floor, our floor. Andrew went to speak with the police who were there and it turns out someone had shot at the building at 5.30 in the morning . The window where it happened is next to Olivia's window. We haven't been able to let her sleep in her room since then and have absolutely no ideas as to how to safeguard her. You can't use bulletproof glass in a residential structure because it's too heavy/code violations. We would have to essentially make her room steel-encased, like a panic room, which would be like $50K. We are at a loss as to what to do.

In the meantime, I can't sleep, I can't focus, I want to know how the "perfect love casts out fear." My heart is literally broken...we bought this condo because we wanted it to be a haven, a place of rest and fun, where students -- and whoever else -- could come and enjoy themselves and relax. What will it be now? What is our future here? Why has He made us wait 7 years to come back to Boston only to have us constantly sidetracked from support raising, cowering in fear and making our whole family play musical beds every night? How could this situation possibly be redeemed? How could I ever let her sleep in that room again knowing that she could be shot at from the street?

I have moments where I think to myself, God redeemed the corporate church, the individualization of that is not necessarily relevant/important/valuable. I need, now, to know that it is. I need to know that there is a specific purpose and a specific plan, and no amount of Welbutrin in the world will appease me .