When I was a kid, I had a very firm understanding of right and wrong. I'm pretty sure my first word after "Momma" and "Daddy" was "Jesus". I knew all about Heaven and Hell. My dad knew the Bible like the back of his hand. People used to ask me if my parents were hippies (our family car was a Pacer--just like on Wayne's World--and my mom played the guitar and she did look a lot like Karen Carpenter), but the truth of the matter is, we were Bible Thumpers. We lived and breathed church and scripture and Jesus. I think I might've spoken in tongue at the age of 6 (is this too much info for 7:52 a.m.?). Anyhoo, I think you get the point. Sinning was a big no-no. Huge. So when I stole a pack of gum at the age of 7, you can bet there was a lesson to be learned there.
Okay, so I didn't mean to steal it. Really. I'm not just saying that. I really remember freaking out on the sidewalk in front of Alphabeta the minute I realized I had the pack of Hubba Bubba in my hand. I remember my body going hot. Starting at the top of my head and traveling down to my toes. Pins and needles hot. I knew right then and there I was going to Hell.