My Early Life of Crime

Last night at church, the pastor made the comment that if you have ever told a lie, you are a liar; and if you have even stolen anything, you are a thief.  His point was that we are all guilty before God.  I certainly agree with that premise.  I know I have lied in my lifetime, although it is always my intent never even to tell what someone might call “a little white lie.”  I thought to myself, that I was unaware of ever stealing anything….then I remember that my career as a thief began very early in life.

When I was less than six, there were multiple times when we temporarily moved in with my mother’s parents.  Sometimes the reason was that we were between houses.  Sometimes my grandmother was ill, and we moved in so that my mother could care for her.  In any event, I was well acquainted with my grandparents’ neighborhood, and I am sure most of the neighbors knew me.

I was very little…may about 3 when I visited a neighbor regularly who had grandchildren of her own.  This meant she had a supply of toys which I enjoyed.  My favorite item at her house was a dirty, ratty, beat-up old doll, which for reasons no one quite understood, I fell in love with and called Becky.

One day after visiting there, I returned home to Grandma’s house in possession of Becky.  I hadn’t exactly stolen her, as I had left my beautiful new doll in her place.  My mother was horrified that I had stolen Becky and marched me back to the neighbor’s house to return her.  The neighbor lady told my mother that if I loved that doll enough to leave my lovely new doll in her place, then I certainly could keep it.  I think the new doll went back home with me too.  But, nothing compared to Becky.

Becky was so loved and played with so vigorously that she eventually became what my mother considered to be a health hazard, so she put her in the garbage.  I dug her out of the garbage.  I don’t remember all of this, but apparently, a cycle of in the garbage and retrieved from the garbage went on for some time.  When I was much older, my mother admitted that she had finally dismembered Becky, to get rid of the filthy thing.  I’m sure if I had known this at the time, my heart would have been broken.  My mother was not in the least a hard-hearted person, so I guess she must have been desperate. 

Fortunately, this did not set me on a path of crime in general and thievery in particular!