Sweet Little Lies
Daily Prompt: As kids, we’re told, time and again, that lying is wrong. Do you believe that’s always true? In your book, are there any exceptions?
In my book there are two extremes which can be somewhat brutal. Never lying and always lying. Both extremes can hurt people. Common sense and compassion come into play when making a decision on whether to lie about something or tell the truth — or just shut up and not say anything.
I once joined a community garden. It wasn’t me who wanted to do this really, it was my mother who was living with me at the time, and hubby. Mom wanted to throw a tomato into the yard, and I didn’t know where I could do it even though I have a huge yard. My yard is all grass and a sprinkler system, and is mostly shaded. I have no idea about plants and gardens and that sort of what-not.
So, being the sweet person I am, I joined a community garden so Mom could have her tomato plant and hubby could enjoy growing some vegetables. We spent the first month or so weeding and plowing and prepping the soil, then we went to the store and bought all kinds of seeds and plants and planted things. Right after we went through all of the work of prepping and planting, Mom lost interest. She didn’t like to drive somewhere to see her tomato plant and she abhored the mosquitoes. And Hubby, surprise surprise, also lost interest. I never had interest to begin with, so the entire garden exploded with vegetables that we ignored. I even got email complaints from other gardeners begging us to come take care of our plot.
We drove there one day to see it, and we saw a humongous pumpkin growing from a vine that was creeping out of the compost bin. It was the biggest pumpkin I had ever seen. I grabbed it, proudly, and brought it home with us. What a find!
A couple of days after I took the pumpkin, someone sent email on the mailing list “Who took the huge pumpkin that was growing out of the compost bin? We’ve been carefully watching it grow.”
Not one to lie about my sins, I confessed and immediately apologized profusely. None of the gardeners has talked to me since, and I’m sure if I ever wanted to garden there again I would not be welcome.
Out of guilt, I put the pumpkin on our back deck table to watch until it rotted. I felt very very guilty and ashamed about it. For some stupid reason it never occurred to me that anyone cared about it. Just a momentary brain fart that ended really badly.
So I will tell the truth about something I did even if it means confessing to being a total stupid idiot.
On the other hand, I will rarely if ever tell someone a truth that will hurt them unless the circumstance makes me feel that I must. But I’m not one to live by mindless principles which have no boundaries or exceptions.