Thursday, February 13, 2014

Lessons in Telling the Truth.

It is the week of Valentines. It is almost as busy as Christmas. Kid’s parties have to be set up, cookies made and valentines written for each of Tasha’s darling 23 classmates,
We left the task of writing the cute little cards, (based on Frozen the movie of course) To Tasha.
 We expected “Be my valentine,”  “Will you be my valentine” and the like.
Silly us.
The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Us.
Dear Juan: You should learn to speak better so you can understand us.
Christina you should try to be nicer.
Bill I really hope you don’t get in trouble so much
Love Natasha.
Now on the Juan thing, because all the liberals in the world descend on me. Tasha friend called her on Sunday, and could not understand her over the phone because he speaks Spanish and is new to this country.
Then of course the important one
Tyler, I love you.
Therefore, there are some positives in the whole thing.
We asked why she wrote what she wrote and she replied:
“You always told me to tell a friend the truth. I didn’t know it would hurt their feelings.” In addition, she looked very upset.
Well, we had told her that and she had taken us literally. Her mom gently redirected her valentine messages in a still truthful, yet not quite so, uh blunt way.
I felt bad; I knew how upset she was. Kids tend to be truthful anyway, and redirecting the truth is just not something they do normally.
We call them little white lies, but aren’t they still lies?
Moreover, honestly, when a friend asks a question, do you give the friend the truth? What kind of a disservice would we be doing to tell a friend she look wonderful, while wearing the most hideous dress in the world.
A couple of days later, while working in the church office, one of the Pastors was involved in a car accident in front of the church. His car was flipped on his side, and he was very upset, although not hurt physically.
The Pastor had been rushing to the church for a staff meeting and another driver ran the red light.
However, the driver said the pastor had run the light.
Tasha was upset, because not, was the pastor in an accident, but the other driver had been less then truthful.
“Why, Nanny, would he not tell the truth?”
I did not have an answer. Why, Indeed?
So Tasha learned this week about honor in telling the truth and taking responsibility for your actions, telling the truth while not hurting a friend.
Quite a bit to take in, for an almost eight year old.
For grandparents, and parents how do we teach them to tell the truth, when others do not?
Something to ponder I suppose.





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