I didn’t steal anything at all Saturday.
In times past I have stolen money and things.
Stealing is a constant temptation to me. Something I struggle with all the time.
But I didn’t steal anything at the grocery store yesterday and I’ve been mentally kicking myself ever since for not taking advantage of my chances to steal a good haul.
Yes, I regret not stealing the money.
I blew my chance.
Twice!
Here’s what happened:
Thinking to beat the crowds, Ginny and I rushed to the grocery store right after breakfast.
That must have been a great idea — throngs of other Christmas shoppers thought the exact same thing.
After we loaded our cart with essentials, Ginny approached the deli section to buy sandwich makings for easy meals over the holiday. She drew number 25 from the machine and waited to be served.
A young woman ahead of her held number 22.
The deli ladies were serving Number 18 or so. Not wanting to clog the area more, I pushed our cart out of the congestion and parked beside the cart belonging to young Miss Number 22.
Her purse lay open in the cart, cash, credit cards, cell phone car keys all clearly visible. She perused the deli case choosing whatever. Engrossed in her shopping.
Temptation lured me.
We paid our homeowners insurance and property taxes this week. We had to draw money out of the credit union in order to buy groceries and here, inches from my hand, lay a bag full of cash.
I looked this way and that.
No one paid me the slightest bit of attention.
I glanced at the ceiling. No sign of a security camera.
We could really use that money.
I wanted that money.
I wanted it bad.
Miss. 22’s number came up and she began a lengthy discussion with the counter clerk. She brought back one party platter and dropped it in her basket.
I said, “Excuse me Miss. But it’s really dangerous to leave your purse unguarded in the cart like that. Anyone could take it while you’re shopping”.
She thanked me in a huff — if that makes sense.
Really snotty about it, she said, “This is a nice neighborhood”.
I said, “Yes it is, but bad people can be in good neighborhoods”.
Obviously I offended her.
She went back to the counter and resumed her conversation with the clerk leaving her purse right where it had been.
She paid no attention to my warning.
Last week a friend described a woman he works with; He said, “John, she’s not mentally retarded. She’s not mentally unbalanced. She’s not emotionally retarded, and she’s not emotionally unstable. She’s just plain dumb-ass stupid”!
That’s the way I felt about Miss. 22.
I mentally kicked myself for not stealing her money.
She deserved to be robbed.
Besides, she acted snotty.
I felt should have ripped her off big time.
Once I read about another thief who cut through two padlocks to steal a garden tractor. When the cops caught him, he justified his action by saying that the owner did not really want to keep the tractor. “If he’d really wanted it, he’d have locked it up better,” the thief said.
Anyhow, I did not steal Miss. 22’s cash although I wanted to badly — but I mentally kicked myself for not taking advantage of my temptation.
I regret not stealing the twit’s money.
Most of the time I just drift into doing wicked things hardly aware that I’m being tempted to sin. But not taking snooty Miss. 22’s money presented me with a conscious decision to make.
Another such decision followed right on the heels of that one:
In the checkout line the cashier made a mistake.
She overcharged us on one item by two dollars.
Of course, Ginny caught the overcharge and called the cashier on it. With her accountant background, Ginny keeps track of what rings up on the register as fast as the clerk rings things up.
Although a line of people waiting to check out stretched behind us, the cashier halted everything to dispute Ginny’s correction. She called for a price check only to discover that Ginny was right.
The store was cheating us out of two dollars.
Cashier called for manager.
The line stretched back.
Ginny, cashier and manager consulted disputing the two dollar overcharge.
I told the bagboy that we also needed a carton of cigarettes.
He strolled over to the customer service counter to get them — while visions of sugarplums danced in his head.
He returned with the $37 carton of cigarettes, stuffed it in a plastic bag, and dropped it in our cart with the other bagged groceries which had already been rung up.
The cashier had not scanned in the $37!
In the questioning about the $2 the store was overcharging us, they were cheating themselves out of $37 — and nobody noticed this transaction but me.
I looked at the carton of cigarettes in our cart.
I listened to the creeps huff and puff and argue with Ginny over two dollars.
I looked at the carton of cigarettes again.
Unless I said something, we would walk out of that store with a free carton of cigarettes.
Finally the two buck dispute was resolved. Ginny, of course, was right. They gave her her two dollars overcharge back.
The manager stalked away muttering about us delaying the long line of customers.
I was so tempted.
So very tempted.
But, I halted the cashier and called her attention to the carton of cigarettes which had made it through checkout without being scanned.
We paid the full price.
But again I mentally kicked myself for being such a sap.
The grocery chain has more money than I do. They can afford the loss. They were snotty in the way they handled us. They tried to cheat us out of our two dollars; why shouldn’t I cheat them out of their $37?
My mind supplied a million reasons why I should have kept my mouth shut and walked out of that store $37 richer.
I’ve been mentally kicking my own ass all day for not taking Miss 22’s cash, for not staying silent and walking out with the cigarettes.
I think I’ve mentioned before in this journal that petty theft is one of my many temptations. It is a particularly strong one. I’m constantly lured to steal things.
Oh, I’d never rob a bank — that takes guts.
I’m not that kind of thief.
No, my forte is being a petty, sneak thief — the sly, conniving, nasty kind who wants to steal, but to justify my stealing.
I used to think that as a Christian and a writer, my temptations would be towards noble, mental sins — you know, pride, vanity and all that lot.
But actually, I find that my real temptations are not to such wimpy sins but to squalid, dirty, nasty, shameful sins of the flesh.
So, why am I writing about such sordid temptations on Christmas Eve?
The Scripture says, “The Father sent the Son to be the Savior of the world”.
Peace of earth, goodwill, shepherds, wise men, and all that jazz is all well and good, but the main business of Christmas is sin.
The angel said, “Thou shalt call His name Jesus because he shall save his people from their sin”.
Within myself, I am all the time so inclined toward squalid sin that it took an act of God to redeem me.
That’s the message of Christmas — that God did act. That He lowered Himself to become human in order to die for our sin on the cross. Yet as the living God personified in flesh, He rose from death.
All that because John Cowart is a dirty, low-down sneak thief.
All that because you are whatever you are and you do whatever you do .
Everybody has different temptations just as we all have different tastes in music, but we all sin and fall short of the glory God has for us.
Yet, Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.
How about that?
Merry Christmas from John Cowart, an ineffective thief.
