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Why I am so Flipping Honest

My mom always said, "Always tell the truth. Even if you think you're going to get in trouble. I need to be able to trust what you say, because one day you're going to need me to trust when it looks like you're lying."

I never forgot that, and I began my truth-telling as a young lady. Even when I was telling the truth, I still sometimes was perceived as lying. But I held to that code of honor 99.9% of the time for the next years of my life up to this day. There were times I became defensive and eluded an honest view of myself and something wrong I had done, but I came around.

The lie I most regret is the one to Mrs. Rabeler, ninth-grade algebra teacher. She was a very smart, sharply-dressed woman who taught at Lansing Christian High School. Man, was she brilliant at math. She wrote neatly on the overhead, and nobody even thought to disrespect her, I don't think. The one rule we all had is that we could NOT chew gum in school. We had a brand new school and everyone was on gum-chewing restriction.

In ninth-grade it was cool to be a little rebellious. So my deskmate Gina and I took the plunge and each popped a piece in our mouths one suave day. I was confident I had perfected the technique of non-chewing-while-really-chewing that I had been bold enough to bring my partner along with me.

"Monica, are you chewing gum?"
The question rang out clearly and suddenly, coolly and calmly. What? How did--? What the--?
"Huh?" I said, with a blank stare while I tried emphatically to unnoticeably swallow the perpetrating substance.

"Are you chewing gum?"
"No," I stated with sincerity, even going as far as to stick out my tongue and show that my mouth was empty.
"Gina," she began with my deskmate, "Are YOU chewing gum?"
Gina slowly nodded.
"Please come up to my desk."
Gina walked forward and received her detention. I wanted to shrink into my skin, feeling like a traitor, a liar, and like a coward that I didn't take the responsibility that came along with my actions like Gina did. I felt ashamed.

I always planned on visiting high school and telling Mrs. Rabeler the truth. I figured we'd laugh about it and I could finally clear my conscience. I was sad to find out she passed away from health complications before I ever made it back. I never forgot that feeling of desperation, that I had lied to Mrs. Rabeler, she probably knew, and that I had compromised my integrity and respect to avoid a detention.

I have made a couple white lies since then, but mostly to avoid nosiness or out of the desire to avoid unnecessary confrontation and remarks. Regardless, I am not a fan of lying unless it's for justice and saves someone's life justly. Even then it would give me palpitations and turn my face deep red. I am NOT made for lying.

But I simply believe overall that everyone deserves to know the truth. I ask because I want and need to know so I can be the best me. I don't believe in the dark. I believe in truth, light, and loyalty to righteousness.
Right-doing, if you will. I believe in doing the right thing when no one believes it's the right thing but you, and doing right things when no one but you is around. It is a deep value, and I believe no one grows and learns from secrets. So I purpose to be healthily non-secretive. It's a waste of energy and time. I always breathe easier when I know I am being open and honest, as I was taught to be.

Monica

Comments

  1. Hi Monica -
    I stumbled across your blog while doing a google search. Thank you for the nice memories of my Mom, "Mrs Rabeler"! You described her essence perfectly. Speaking of truth telling, she was actually struck and killed by a drunk driver. But - wanted to tell you that she would have appreciated your honesty, even after many years. Being honest and telling the truth was important to her - glad to hear you were able to get back on track! :)
    Sincerely,
    Kristen (Rabeler) Chenowith

    ReplyDelete
  2. Kristen,
    I'm even sorrier to hear this about your mother. Thank you for visiting my blog and may your mother's memories continue to live in so many people as it did me. All the best!

    ReplyDelete

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