Do you remember the good old days? When we could walk to the corner store, pick up milk, chocolate bars, maybe a new bike? You can’t get away with that anymore. They have surveillance cameras now.

As I recently found out, however, theft is no laughing matter.

A Torrent of Tears

One Sunday morning, I sat beside Eowyn, an eight-year-old whom I love more than my own life.

“Honey,” I said, “is there something you did in the bookstore that you need to tell Grandpa?”

“No,” she said, looking thoroughly confused and innocent. The girl reminded me of me. It was a frightening thing.

“Ah, Sweetie, did you take something that wasn’t yours? Did you steal some gum and candy?”

More confusion and innocence. She looked down and shook her head less convincingly than before. I was thinking of consequences and the hardness of her heart and wondering what it would be like visiting her in prison.

My granddaughter. The kleptomaniac. The gum thief who couldn’t stop. Began with small stuff. And was soon stealing cars.

She was cornered like a mouse now.

“Yes,” she sobbed as tears raced down her face. “I took it, Grandpa.”

Is this remorse or the shame of being caught?

“Stealing is wrong,” I said. “How do we know?”

She looked up. “God says that.” The tears were a torrent now, racing down her cheeks to the red dress she just put on to wear to church.

“Let’s talk to Jesus about it. He loves you very much, you know. And so do I.” PHIL CALLAWAY

Sins of the (Grand)father

So, I told her of my own sins.

“I was nine when I stole quarters from my brothers,” I began. “A quarter could buy enough candy to fill a bathtub. I stashed it under my bed.”

She was listening intently. “You did?”

“Yes. My mother was cleaning under my bed. I told her it was my friend’s candy and I was saving it for him.”

Her eyes grew wider with each sentence.

“My mom caught me stealing and lying, all in one day,” I continued.

“What did she do?”

“Sold me to a glue factory. No, she didn’t. She made me pay back my brothers with some money I’d been saving.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want me taking things that are yours?”

“No.”

“I want to trust you when you say something. Are you sorry?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s talk to Jesus about it. He loves you very much, you know. And so do I.”

After she prayed, I said, “Tomorrow, you can say sorry to the bookstore owner and pay him back.” She looked relieved, then terrified.

“OK,” she said.

Money Well Spent

The next day, the store owner was more than gracious. My precious former thief couldn’t stop smiling for a week. And warning her brother.

“Grandpa,” she said, “I memorized Psalm 1 like you asked me to.” She didn’t skip a beat as she told me how the way of the wicked leads to destruction, but how God watches over the way of the righteous.

I think it helped that I offered her $20 to memorize that beautiful psalm. It’s money well spent.

God bless my darlin’ granddaughter. Now, she can go to the bookstore and buy a good book, and—if she memorizes a few more chapters—enough gum and candy to fill the bathtub.