Entry 5: Lies, truths, half-lies, and half-truths

 Back in grade three, there was a large words of wisdom pasted beneath the blackboard. She went to a Catholic elevated academy which offered what they called in the United States as K-12. There was even an addition - the preparatory class. But she was not going to talk about that. It was those words that stamped their existence in her brain and heart since then making her battle between convenience, morality and integrity. The phrase was "Honesty is the best policy." All classrooms and every part of the campus have words of wisdoms and other Did You Know? trivia. It was fun to read all of them. But this phrase was the only one she remembered with all my heart.

They were just words. They were being taught in school, in her books, in her class subject called CLE (Christian Living Education). It should not mean to her. But there was something that happened around that time of her elementary years - something about a mistake she and her sister made. She would have tell the story here but she actually did not remember what was it anymore. She did not remember her mistake, but she remembered what her mom told her. "Tell me the truth so I could fix or correct the mistake for you." Or maybe it went like "Do not lie. Tell me the truth so we could fix the problem together." Along those lines. Something in those words was so profound to her. "Do I really just tell the truth? I will not get into trouble if I told them of my mistakes?" It was startling. It was surreal. A wonderful mystery to me. 

It was put to the test when a tikka (tokay gecko) entered the house. Tikka was a bit bigger than the normal Asian house gecko which was already creepy, but they grew up with it. Tikka though, she was only able to see them outside of the house. They were creepy and scary. She remembered waking up at night to use the restroom (Comfort Room or C.R.). She turned the lights on in the dining room - she has learned that there's no ghost and nothing's scary as long as she turns on the light - and had walked pass the area when she had the opportunity to look at the big, crawling reptile. She freaked out silently. Heart thumping and adrenaline rushing. She went for the broom. And it crawled all the way to the framed cross-stitch of her and her sister when they were babies (or two or three), near the entrance of her room. She had to do something, but she didn't want to approach it lest it would jump on her. There was a story where a tikka jumped on a person and it was hard to remove it from the skin. She did not want that. So, she took the nearest object near her - she did not remember what it was - and threw at it. It missed. Then again. She did not know whether it was the second or third try, but the object did hit something. The frame. The. Glass. Frame. And yes, it broke and her parents came barreling in. They asked what happened - here was their girl clearly afraid and there was a broken glass everywhere. Why? What happened?

Confessing her fright, her weakness, her mistakes was a bit more nerve-wracking that her ordeal. What should she say? Should she not say anything? Should she? If she dared to speak, would it be a lie or the truth? But she remembered those phrases beneath the blackboard in her grade three Saint Jude section and her own mom's words - she tell a truth and everything will be fine, her problems included. So she did. She told the truth. Were there tears? HONESTLY, she did not remember. Maybe. She only knew of her relief when her dad went and got the gecko away and out of the house for her. As for the frame (which was probably custom-made or something they need to order from a real frame and glass maker), it was replaced and the framed cross-stitch was back in place. 

It was hard not to lie so she don't get in trouble. Truthfully, even with that lesson in her mind and heart, there were times she did still tell half-truths or excuses, but she learned throughout the years, through books and other experiences, that it was better for the truth to come from herself, get herself in trouble, be lectured at, feel worse about herself because of guilt, rather than other people hearing the truth from someone else - because there were tattletales and she did not want them to spread the wrong rumor. Or maybe, just so she could feel better about herself once her guilt and conscience past by. At least she knew she came clean to someone early and whatever they do about the truth was their own choice.