Thou Shalt not Steal

Can you remember the first time you did something really naughty?  I can.  When mum and dad decided to build a house in a growing area in Legana, we moved next door to an interesting family.  The C family consisted of a husband and wife and their two foster sons.  The eldest son, Anthony was intellectually disabled.  He also suffered with other health issues that included epilepsy.  I don’t know all of Anthony’s health issues but I do know that he did not fit frequently.  It was only on rare occasions.  Anthony was a few years older than I and when we were younger we used to play together.  There was a wire fence that separated the two properties and we used to put our trampolines right up to the fence, bend the barbed wire down so that it was underneath the frame of the trampolines and jump from one trampoline to the other.  We always had the radio blasting and we would sing and dance on our trampolines together.  I remember Anthony once used a rough word.  Not really a swear word but something that is certainly not in my vocabulary today (not audibly anyway).  I had no idea what it meant.  That night was family night and I was playing a card game with my mum and dad.  I got dealt a lousy hand or something and I called out the newly learnt word, supposing it was the equivalent of saying ‘shoot’.  I knew from the look on my dad’s face that I had said the wrong thing so I started crying.  Mum and dad just looked at each other and they started laughing.  Seeing that all was not lost, my parents explained to me that the word I had used was inappropriate.  Assuring me that I had not committed some terrible sin, we resumed the game, lesson learned and life went on.  I have since used that word a number of times in my teenage years and also on the odd occasion under my breath in more recent years (if I’m to be truly honest). 

Ok, so that was pretty tame.  The first thing I remember doing that truly tested my integrity was stealing.  I was seven years of age at the time.  My parents’ property was surrounded by a number of neighbours on smaller acreage.  We had in total seven homes that bordered our house.  There were a lot of children in the area.  There were twin girls, just a little younger than I, who lived over our back fence.  They had beautiful long blonde hair, a far cry from the short ‘boy’ hair style I had at the time.  I don’t know why but I rarely played with these little girls. Perhaps it was a case of ‘two’s company, three’s a crowd”.  One Saturday afternoon I was playing over at their house.  They had a bit of a play room with a ton of dress-ups.  My favourite thing to dress up in was their Rapunzel wig.  You can imagine why.  I loved that wig so much, I wanted one for myself.  I must have wanted it so badly that whilst the girls weren’t looking, I took off out of their house (wearing the wig), jumped their back fence and tore off into my bedroom.  I had made up some story to my mum about finding the wig when I was out and about with friends.

The next morning I was excited to try on the wig again but to my horror it was not where I had left it.  Upon enquiry, my mother explained that it was dirty to wear something like that “you don’t know who it belonged to or where it had been”.  Little did she know.

the eyes of innocence

This is my earliest recollection of a sin or crime that I had committed.  We are born into this world innocent, free from sin, redeemed through the mercy of Jesus Christ.  Little children “cannot sin, for power is not given unto Satan to tempt little children, until they begin to become accountable unto me” (D&C 29:46-47). One only has to look into the eyes of a newborn baby to know that they are not guilty of anything that our great father Adam committed way back when the world began, nor are they capable of knowingly doing something wrong.  This is why in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, children are not baptised until the age of eight.  This was the age considered by the Lord to be the age whereby children had learnt right from wrong and became accountable for their sins and follies.  This direction came from Jesus Christ through revelation to the prophet Joseph Smith. 

little children are precious

Baptism by one who holds the proper priesthood authority is necessary for becoming a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  It is also the gateway to receiving eternal life.  When we are baptised by immersion (as was Jesus), it is symbolic of the death of a person’s sinful life and the rebirth into a spiritual life.  A life dedicated to the service of God and His children. 

As a seven year old, preparing for this step of baptism, I can honestly say that I had developed cognitively enough to be able to reason as to whether or not I should confess to my theft of the Rapunzel wig.  I decided that pretty soon I was going to be baptised and that would take care of any sins I had committed in my life between birth and eight years of age.  My sins were simply going to be washed away when I went down into that water.  It would be the “death of [my] sinful life” right?  The plan made perfect sense to me and I was sticking to it.  Sure I felt guilty, but in a few months time, I was going to be free!

This was not the case.  Thankfully my parents had modelled honesty in my home.  They truly practiced what they preached in this sense.  I vividly remember the feeling of guilt I had as a child for what I had done.  Whilst I was busy during the day, I rarely gave it much thought.  It was at night, when all is quiet and you are left to ponder, that was when it became more difficult to live with.  You know those moments you have right before you slip quietly to sleep?  These moments for me at this time were filled with discomfort.  The pillow didn’t feel right, I felt hot and that made me itch and I had a lump in my throat.  This went on every night for weeks.  One Sunday morning as my parents and I were getting ready for church I asked dad if I could talk to him in my room.  I remember him sitting himself down on my little seat that was at the foot of my bed.  With tears in my eyes I told him what I had done.  He wrapped his arms around me (gave me that pat on the butt and a dig in the ribs) and told me that everything would be alright if I were to go and confess to the neighbours.

The date was scheduled.  I don’t remember what was said although I can still remember the awkwardness of the situation.  The twins’ parents were thankful for my speaking with them and all was forgiven.  This was an amazing experience for a seven year old.  I remember walking away from our neighbour’s house with a real weight lifted from off of my shoulders.  It taught me a real lesson.  I never wanted to steal again.  And, I never have.