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My younger sister Becky and I were looking for adventure, so we decided to run away from home. We just wanted to be on our own. There comes a time in a child's life when running away simply seems necessary--with or without a reason. Perhaps we were inspired by Jean Craighead George's popular children's book, My Side of the Mountain, about a boy who ran away from the crowded sidewalks of New York City to the Catskill Mountains. Sam even survived the winter sheltered in the cavity of a hemlock tree he had hollowed out, eating wild berries, edible plants, and fish from the river. He even made flour from acorns!
If he could live off the land, we could too!
We pooled our money and went off to get some rations. There was enough money to buy one 25-cent can of Spam, a 33-cent box of macaroni and cheese, and two pops. We hiked far back into the woods behind our elementary school and set up camp along the Devil's River. Using an empty Maxwell coffee canister, we scooped water from the river and set the canister on our campfire to boil. We thought we were so Daniel Boone. Our next feat was to cook the Spam on the side of the empty Spam tin. However, we added the macaroni before the water came to a boil and barely remembered to stir it. By the second time we brushed the sand off the Spam, the macaroni was so thick from the starch in the can of water that there was barely room for the cheese, which clumped when added to the inedible concoction.
I guess that was when the thought of eating acorn soup and skinning squirrels through the winter didn't seem fun anymore. Bearing that in mind, we cleaned up camp, erased any signs of runaways, and arrived home in time for dinner.
Years later, Becky and I were reminiscing about this incident and a few of our other childhood schemes and dreams. We laughed pretty hard when she said, "Kelly, after that meal, we realized we didn't have it that bad at home!"
Another solemn matter to consider is that parents also run away from home--this includes both mothers and fathers. In the book Counseling for Liberation (published in 1976, mind you!), Charlotte Holt Clinebell shared some startling statistics reported in 1974 about runaway husbands and wives: "In the early 1960s . . . the number of husbands who ran away compared with the number of wives was about 300 to one. By the late 1960s, the ratio had decreased to about 100 to one. In 1972 it was two to one. But in 1973 it was about even."
These historical figures concerned husbands and wives, not specifically parents. Still, the discussion raises a concern for families. She stated, "There are many reasons for the discontent illustrated by these runaway wives, among them being the rising tide of expectations and aspirations. People, especially women, are becoming aware of new options."
An article by the director of a missing persons agency in 1974 described the typical runaway wife as: "She’s thirty-four-and-one-half years, married at nineteen, first child within one year of marriage, second child a year and a half later. She’s intelligent, caring, anxious to elevate herself above the stereotyped roles of cook, laundress, waitress, housemaid, chauffeur."A familiar cry even today, isn't it!
Family roles have changed since 1974. Today, mothers and fathers often share the responsibility of earning a living, raising children, and keeping a household running. Yet sharing responsibilities does not always mean sharing them equally. Mothers still tend to carry more of the daily childcare and household work. Both parents can feel stretched between work and home, with little time left to rest.
Why does anyone run away from home, anyway? Some leave with the illusion of a life of freedom.
My mother tried to be a good parent for a time. In fact, I remember that when I was 12 years old, she attended a women's retreat on Mackinac Island, where a godly woman had shared from God's Word and encouraged the women to have a morning quiet time, even with six kids. She told my mother to put her chair in a visible place and teach the children to stay in their rooms until her quiet time was over. Mom put her orange chair right where I would see it as soon as I came out of my room. If she was still in her chair, I couldn't come out. She just trained us. That was it! I didn't know what quiet time was, but I knew she had her Bible.
When I was 14 years old, I came home from school to an almost empty house and found my stepfather crying in her chair. Yes, the orange velour chair stayed. So did my stepfather and three of the six children. And I was one of them. My twin brother and I became separated that day because he went with my mom. It was a terrible day.
When a parent runs away, the children do not escape the consequences. If running away is becoming a serious consideration, please pause. It is not always the adventure you expect. Running may cause even more pain--for the children and the family you leave behind. Do not let your family become a statistic. There are alternatives for every choice we make.