Sometimes, a thing is so low and mean-spirited, you know it's safer to not think about it. That's how I felt when I heard from Lisa Litwiller about the break-in in her apartment. But Lisa couldn't "just not think about it" because there would be another incident - and another - and another.

Imagine knowing that someone has been watching you, making note of when you leave for work and return, and marking you as an easy prey because you can't watch back.

The first incident was the "caretaker" who knocked at the door, and told Lisa she was there to fix a leak. When she left, Lisa's money left at about the same time. Another morning, it was the absence of her boom box. Still another day, she let herself in, heard someone moving about her apartment, and later missed her wallet and cell phone.

Police filed reports. People were kind. But when the mysterious intruder got physical, grabbed her, pulled her hair, twisted her arm, Lisa knew it was time to move.

Blindness and learning disabilities have not made life easier for Lisa, but she has worked to make her life a good one. At 36, she took a gigantic step forward in taking charge of her life.

She had always lived near the support and protection of her mother in Dayton. When her mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer (now in remission), Lisa started thinking that she needed to learn to live on her own.

Two years ago, Lisa came to Cincinnati where she had close childhood friends from her days at the Ohio State School for the Blind. She found an apartment in College Hill and a job in the industries division of the Cincinnati Association for the Blind. The job is simple - assembling packaging tape on a production line - but she does it well, enjoys herself, and takes pride in her work. She loves her work, her friends, and her independence.

It's hard, Lisa says, to think about someone watching her and marking her as an easy target. It's sordid and sickening - but the person who stole Lisa's money and possessions and violated her space is not the star of this story. That's what makes it such a good one.

The people Lisa talks about most are the friends who took her in, so she wouldn't have to sleep another night in the apartment: the female detective from Cincinnati's District 5 police who helped her pack up her things and offered comfort; the social workers from the Cincinnati Association for the Blind who drove her to look at apartments; and her parents who helped her move.

"I take two phones into the shower," she says, "and I always have a whistle in my pocket. . . . I was never afraid, and now I am, but I'm not going to let them make me afraid to get out there and live my life."

It's the time of year when we most need to see miracles. Lisa has shown me one.

She has proven the remarkable good news that even in 2002, old-fashioned human kindness can overshadow the mean-spirited stuff and take a front row seat in someone's life.

Contact Deborah Kendrick by phone: 673-4474; fax: 321-6430; e-mail:dkkendrick@earthlink.net.