Some Thoughts on the Awful Truth

The truth, in itself, is really not awful. Pretension is awful, living a lie is awful and being caught in a lie is the worst! Confession is truly good for the soul, I do believe that. I also believe it contributes to a good night’s sleep. Jesus, Himself, said, “The truth shall set your free”, I believe that too. I tell the truth. Unfortunately, there were times when I told it a bit too freely. Without some discretionary restraint, the truth can be awful. Lack of discretion in who to tell the truth to, or how often to tell it or in who’s hearing it is told can lead to unpleasant and unkind consequences. I confess I’ve always had a problem keeping my mouth shut. I remember running to the door even before I was old enough to go to school to be the first to tell Daddy “the news”. I would tell him what Mommy bought him for Christmas, I’d be the first to let him know that the plumbing backed up and there was garbage in the sink, I would tell him all the neighborhood gossip, often in front of the neighbors themselves. I’d always be quick to tell him of my brother’s latest misdeeds. Basically, I told him everything my mother wanted to tell him and all within the first five minute he was home, the more there was to tell, the louder and faster I’d tell it. The competition between my mother and I was intense. All the power was on her side but since she was not willing to burst through the door and run down the driveway when his car arrived, I usually won the first round of our, never named but always fought, contest each evening. Once in the house she would shush and scold me in order to get a word in edgewise. Sometimes, when I continued to interrupt I was sent to my room. All this taught me was to talk fast, talk loud, and always be first. My announcements would start before he was even out of the car. “We’re having spaghetti tonight”, I’d call on the run, “Timmy-had-diarrhea-today-and-it-went-down-his-leg” I’d say all in one breath. One time I even ran out with the news, “Grandma Foley died, the hospital called, it was a heart attack”. I don’t think my mother ever forgave me for that one and who can blame her? I am still somewhat irrepressible but I hope I have now learned enough self control to keep from hurting anyone. The truth is never awful but the way you tell it just might be.