Taming thieving fingers

Fingers can do many things. Industrious fingers make all kinds of things. Gentle fingers sooth and heal with a caress. Thieving fingers fill my van with all kinds of things that don’t belong to me.

“What’s this?” I asked as I held up the little hooked piece of metal. My mind dug around in my memory for something that matched. “It looks like one of the keys to the church hall.”

“That’s what it looks like,” my wife replied. I did my best to calm my irritation as I called my son over.

“Did you take this from the church?” I can’t say that I was perfectly calm and collected. My son looked at me silently for a long moment. Then his head twitched in a barely perceptible movement that I know from experience means, “Yes, I did, but I don’t want to say so because I know I’m in trouble, but if I don’t tell the truth I’m going to get a spanking that I’ll never forget.”

I took a deep breath. “Jesus, have mercy on me a sinner. You know you’re not supposed to take things that don’t belong to you.”

“It was just sitting on the ground.” Possibly true. “I just wanted to look at it.” Very likely. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

Nip thieving in the bud.

At six years old, the stakes are very low. But the habit of taking things that belong to someone else can lead to big problems as kids grow older. I’ve been working on this one for a while. Partly to prevent all of the toys in my neighborhood from accumulating at my house. But mostly because I know that my son just needs to be disciplined until the bad habit is broken.

I think it’s funny because my kids (and maybe all kids) seem to have a native understanding of ownership. If the toy in my son’s hand gets snatched away by his older brother, wild pandemonium ensues. Not only does he scream like a wounded bobcat, he seeks revenge.

His brother’s thieving must be punished immediately, either through a direct physical assault or through an appeal to a higher power. By which I mean, “DAAAAAAD! HE STOLE MY (insert the favorite toy of the day),” not prayer. He knows the meaning of the word “mine” even if he only applies it to the toy in his hands at the moment.

The challenge is to connect the dots so that he can understand that other kids own things, too. He’s not the only person who can use the word “mine” and mean it.

The beauty of the Golden Rule.

God’s so smart. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” I love the Golden Rule. It’s so simple, so elegant. And perfect for little kids.

In those moments when my son cries out for justice over a stolen artifact, I take the opportunity to point out, “This doesn’t feel very good does it?” Obviously, Dad. “Do you think that your friend Charlie feels the way you do right now when you bring home his favorite toys without asking?” Again, the long moment of silence and barely discernable nod. “Now you see why it’s important not to steal other people’s stuff.”

Sometimes I’ll even have him pray with me. “Repeat after me. Jesus…” “Jesus,” “Please help me not to steal.” “Please help me………” “Not to steal.” “Not to steal.” Let’s face it. If I want to root out this spiritual weed for good, I’m going to need some grace to do it.

Justice and restitution.

Just pointing the bad feelings out isn’t enough though. I can’t let my son enjoy the fruit of his thieving. That would completely defeat the purpose and miss an excruciatingly poignant learning opportunity. In most cases, I’ll tell my son that he has to take whatever it is back and ask forgiveness. He hates it. He fusses and cries, but he does it. Because he knows that the alternative to obedience is much more unpleasant.

In the case of the missing church key, however, my wife convinced me of a need for mercy. Our priest, Fr. Stephen, is even taller than I am with a strong Irish accent and a ponytail. He loves kids and is really funny, but Mary thought that the prospect of returning a stolen key to him might be just a little too intimidating for my son.

So, I told him that we needed to return the key, had him ask my forgiveness for stealing, ask Jesus’ forgiveness for stealing, and say a prayer to stop taking things that don’t belong to him. Then I gave him a big hug.

Ultimately, it’s not about the key at all. It’s about my son. I want him to be able to flourish.

A coworker once told me that my son was like caterpillar, and I shouldn’t crush him before can become a beautiful butterfly. I immediately disagreed with her. He’s a garden. Some of the seeds that fall in the soil of his soul bear good fruit… others are weeds. I love him, so I’m going to pull weeds for him until he can figure out why it’s important to do it himself. If I don’t teach him to tame his fingers, who will?

---

To read more about my conversion, check out Demoniac, now available on Amazon.