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Karen Frances

Honesty Prefaced

“Whether looking for love?

Are you looking for fame?

Before you go off, Better know the game

He said, Tell it like it is

Live how you live

When you’re doing what you do, Just tell the truth”

“Tell the Truth” by Jon Batiste

I remember the first time I told a lie. It was before I made my first holy communion. I was six, waiting to be seven. In preparation for this Catholic milestone, they brought a group of us children into the church where a very large priest, who looked to me like a “dementor”, went into this long heated explanation of what this meant; nothing I really comprehended, stating repeatedly and angrily as if we were the very bane of existence, that before we could receive Holy Communion, we had to go to confession, where we would report all of our dastardly deeds, be forgiven with a litany of repentance and then finally be deemed worthy enough to be “communed”. There was only one problem. I didn’t know what a sin was and I didn’t think I had any.


A very dutiful and responsible child up to this point, I did what I was told until I did it without being told, stayed out of everyone’s way and kept my mouth shut. It was solely out of preservation and self protection, but in my little mind, it still counted. In my house, children were not to be heard and you definitely didn’t want to be seen. But if you don't know what a sin is, or no one tells you what you are doing is a sin, does it count? I grew more anxious, on the verge of a panic attack, racking my brain for something, anything. Nope, I got nothing. Sigh.


The priest was angry and adamant, lining us up in front of him while he stood on the altar, looming over us, declaring that we had better have something to say when it was our turn to get locked into that big box! Myself, terrified and shaking, decided right then and there that I had better make something up to escape this ire directed at me. So there I was, starting my Catholic education, deathly afraid of the priest delivering me from myself and using my free will to lie to God.


Was I afraid of God or going to hell? No. I was afraid of the hateful man threatening me, a clear and present danger. I wouldn’t come to truly “know” God until much later and I felt that if hell was real, it was probably way more merciful than my current situation, so all good. As I got older and more familiar with lies, deceit and cover ups, thanks to my dear mother, I made a vow to myself that I would not lie, not about anything nor to anyone. Other than a few lapses over these many years and two very deliberate all out deceits, I have kept that vow.


I don’t know if you have noticed, but there are plenty of folks that do not want the truth. As a truth teller, I have encountered them all. Pretty much everyone. At some point, though, I thought that maybe my delivery and the phrase I lead with, “Let me be brutally honest”, was a huge contributing factor, setting them up as the adjective implied, braced and expecting to be hurt and humiliated. So I had to work on that, but even when I found a way to be honest with compassion and/or empathy, no bueno. Even worse, when I was asked a question, for my opinion or what I would do in their situation, and answered it honestly, it was still not welcome. Ugh. So I changed things up again and whenever the conversation was headed in that direction, where I was asked to provide an honest response, I would give them the choice and ask first, “Do you want the truth? Or do you want me to sugar coat it for you?” You would be surprised at how many picked the confectionary treat and I would give it to them with extra whip cream. For the other brave souls that declared they were ready for the truth, I would preface my response by saying, “Ok, Let me be brutally honest” and then sail softly into the reveal.


My late husband was truly exasperated with me when I would curtail his less than truthful shenanigans and he would whine to me that everyone else does it so why couldn’t I be like them. Because I’m not. When I was in the process of selling my home and disclosing all of the house ills to the prospective buyer, my lawyer told me I was being “too honest”. How is that even possible? Doesn’t honesty pretty much stand on its own? When I moved down south I found their translation of anything said close to the truth wasn’t welcome - don’t let that sunny demeanor and bible under the armpit fool you. They receive the art of being honest and direct - a true northern trait they are quick to point out - as being mean, bullying and condescending. Wow. I think these were the kids who all got trophies, whether they played the game or not.


I always ask for people to be truthful, even if it's hard to hear; I know I’m in for it when I have to coax it out of them. But knowing is better than not. It allows me to make the best decision for me, understanding what is at play and then knowing my options. It also lets me know where I stand and if you can see where you stand, it gives you the best vantage point to see your best way forward. And because I am my worst, harshest critic, I am pretty much on auto-correct.


When did a lie become “smart”? When did false and harmful rhetoric become “believable” and “acceptable”? Why has honesty become the “outlaw”?


Last week, my pastor friend asked me one of those questions, via email, that required a truthful answer. I didn’t catch myself before responding and sent back an email prefaced by “Let me be brutally honest”. And maybe I didn’t think he would mind since he has been dealing directly with God and the diabolical world at large for a very long time.

When his email came back to me, in the Subject line was written, “Let me be tenderly honest”.


Yes, let us……..


“For what it's worth, my mother says that when we

deceive for personal gain we make Jesus cry.”

Sheldon Cooper to Leonard on the “Big Bang Theory”

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