My kids love to hear stories about when I was a little girl. They like when I can remember something they've never heard before, but they also like hearing the same stories over and over again.
One of their favorites is the time I was going to run away.
I laid in bed that night, probably 7 or 8 years old, insulted by some injustice I can't even remember now, and decided I would be better off living with my Nana and PawPaw. I lay there certain I knew the way, and positive I could walk the mile and half there in the dark. (Never mind I was terrified of the dark.)
Once I was sure of my plan, I slipped out of my bed and pulled the big blue suitcase from under it. First things first, I emptied my sock and underwear drawer into the suitcase. Suddenly, I heard someone coming down the hallway! I quickly shoved the suitcase under the bed and jumped back under the covers.
I lay very still to avoid detection, and possibly more trouble. As soon as I was sure the coast was clear I could resume my packing. Very still...very quiet...waiting...
...and I fell asleep.
Not only are God's mercies new every morning, so is a 7 year old's memory. Bright and early the next morning my mama came in to help me get ready for school, and boy weren't we both surprised when my socks and underwear were all gone!
Of course, it only took a moment for me to realize they were all in the big blue suitcase under my bed.
Busted. I immediately 'fessed up. So much for being sneaky.
And that was the beginning and ending of my life as a runaway.