Saying Honest Things

“He says very funny things sometimes, doesn’t he?” said Luna... “But he can be a bit unkind...” Luna was demonstrating her usual knack of speaking uncomfortable truths; he had never met anyone quite like her. -Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

I love how kids say exactly what they’re thinking, without thinking about it. (Like when my five-year-old neighbour asked me why I always wear skinny jeans with flip flops... she has a point, you know?) Even when it stings, there is something beautiful in the purity of complete honesty... maybe because it’s so hard to come by, especially as an adult.

I’m not saying people aren’t honest, but so often that honesty comes with an agenda (even from, and at times, especially from the ones we love). Friends say you’re too good for him because they want you to move on; mothers tell you your shirt’s cut too low for your own good... they don’t just say it; more often than not, grown-ups use the truth.

Then there are the times we’re afraid to say honest things. (I’m especially guilty of this one.) I don’t mean it in the “Yes, your butt DOES look fat in those jeans,” sense... I mean it in the “You’ll probably think I’m crazy for saying this, but...” kind of way. I bite my tongue so often because I don’t want to sound like a freak. I over-think it.

There’s a crinkly-eyed cashier at the supermarket near my house who is thoughtful and kind. I don’t even know her name, but she’s an absolute delight whenever our paths cross. Each time I see her, I want to tell her that she’s a bright spot in my day, but I don’t, because I’m afraid I’ll sound stupid.

It’s not just her... I swallow back compliments for strangers fairly often, because I’m afraid I’ll weird them out. (I have no agenda, so what makes it so hard ?)

The week after Easter Sunday, I was confirmed at Saint Mary’s on the Highlands. I’m a break-away Baptist... the first Episcopalian in my family. I was self-conscious and nervous about standing in front of the Bishop...worried I’d trip in my tall white heels, scared my dress was fussy and inappropriate, overcome with a persistent urge to search the church for a guy I knew wasn’t there. I was seated in the front, separated from my family, andI could feel my pulse pounding in my ears.

Then she leaned over and spoke to me. “You look beautiful,” she said, with the gentlest, most graceful smile. I whispered a thank you back, (with what I’m sure was a stupid look of shock on my face,) and all was quiet. It was well with my soul. Three little words from a stranger put me at ease and made all the difference in the world. I’m not saying I was beautiful, but what she did is exactly what I’m talking about... no pretence, no expectations. Just saying exactly what you think, as you think it. I don’t know her, and I haven’t seen her since, but she took a few quick seconds to tell me what was on her mind, and it was just what I needed to hear.

I think we should all make more of an effort to say honest things.

(Me with my parents Confirmation Sunday at St. Mary’s)