Truth Be Told

A preacher had all of the children gathered up front one Sunday morning and was giving a children’s sermon on the topic of love and how to show others your love for them. He asked the group, “have any of you ever seen your Mommy and Daddy kiss?” 

One little girl quickly raised her hand and, much to her parents’ embarrassment, announced, “I’ve seen them do a lot more than kiss!” Before she could be stopped, she added, “I’ve seen them hug.” The congregation let out a collective sigh.

I remember being in Target with my daughter when she was maybe four years old. We found ourselves on the same aisle as an extremely large female shopper. Not to be ugly, but to paint a picture, I would estimate her weight in the 400 to 500-pound range. My sweet girl tugged my sleeve and said, “Mommy, that lady....” 

I tried my best to distract her and switch her attention to something -- anything  -- else. Just when I thought I was safe, I heard her sweet voice say, “That lady...” 

“Oh no,” I thought. “What can I do? Do I explain that she’s just a child and has no tact, no sensor? Do I feign a coughing attack?”

But then she continued, pointing to her stomach, “That lady has a yellow shirt, too.” Floods of relief engulfed me.

Recently, my daughter has been asking me about the nature of truth and if lying is really as bad as I’ve made it out to be. I’ve regaled her from an early age with the tale about the infamous wolf boy. Now, at 10+, she’s been asking if our family really does have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to lying, if it really makes God cry when she lies, and if her pants will actually spontaneously combust.

“Well, Babe,” I explained, “the thing with lying is once you start, it’s hard to get out. Lies kind of pile up and snowball. You tell another to cover up the first one and soon you forget yourself what the truth is.”

“Uh-huh...but what about small ones?”

Feeling confident, I quickly respond, “there’s no such thing as a ‘small lie.’”

“Well, what about if someone gives you a gift you don’t like? You told me I’m supposed to smile and say how much I like it.”

Damn. Why do they seem to listen more to the dumb and wrong stuff you say? “Well, I think what I meant to say is you’re not supposed to hurt the person’s feelings. You don’t have to lie, but you should still be gracious.”

“Well, what if someone says, ‘do you like my outfit?’ and I don’t. Then what?”

“There’s a nice way to answer someone truthfully without being hurtful. You can find something nice to say about just about anything or anyone. Maybe you don’t like the outfit but you like the color so you can say, ‘I’ve always thought you look good in blue.’ Or, if all else fails, you could say, ‘that’s maybe not my favorite style but you always look nice.’”

By this point, Little Bit had grown weary of our Brady Bunch moment and stopped listening and maybe had even left the room. But I was left pondering the topic still. My thoughts turned to a question that we’re asked almost daily -- “how are you?” The majority, the vast majority, of us answer “fine” but I wonder what percentage of us are actually, truly, wholly fine? I know I’ve answered, on occasion, “fine” when I was anything but. It just seems polite. No one expects you to truly answer, I don’t think.

I worked with a gentleman at my first job out of college who was old (probably 40) and he had a whole arsenal of answers to this question. “How are you, Bob?”

“Oh, right as rain!”
“If I was any better, I’d be twins!”
“Well, I’m above ground, so it’s a good day!”

Bob was an odd bird, but maybe he was onto something. By not responding with a programmed, “fine,” he told me he was listening. That he recognized I asked him a question and he was answering in kind.

Truth be told, most times when I answer “fine” to “how are you?” I am. For that, I am grateful and that’s no lie.