On Telling the Truth
And the power of talking about our fears
I’ve started coming into the store early on these summer mornings so that I can get some work done for my other job: co-writing and collaborating on book projects with other people. With the kids home for the summer, the house can turn into a shouting, laughing, tumbling, eating, requesting, arguing, basketball-thumping, rustling vortex, so when Maile said she missed being with the kids in their summer routine, why don’t I go into the store early to write, I said, sure, sounds good.
I love driving into the city when it has just begun waking up, when traffic is light and people walk the sidewalks carrying their coffee and the trash trucks are finishing their rounds and the traffic lights keep changing even though there’s no one there yet. The parking garage is empty and quiet and the sun begins peeking up over the trees and the buildings, rising over East Orange Street.
The store is so still when I arrive, the dim light holding up all these stories. I can almost feel the narrators humming with life in the pages—the books feel alive in the half-light. I switch on a few lights and turn on some music and make coffee.
And then I sit down and write this, to you.
A few nights ago our whole family was at the house for dinner. This is a small miracle. With two kids home from college (and working a lot), along with some summer activities, and now the bookstore, family dinners with all eight of us happen less frequently.
But with Lucy coming home from her two-week house-sitting gig and Cade home from work and everyone else more or less activity-less, we planned to grill out. And grill we did. The air was cool for early July and the sky was the brightest blue and the clouds slipped through it over the trees, so we decided to eat outside, by the fire pit.
And after dinner when someone will usually rush off or retreat to their room or find something else to do, when I might be tempted to hurry into cleaning up the kitchen, we all just sat there and talked and laughed over old family stories. I threw Winnie’s toy into the yard to keep her from eating the leftover food. She chased it and I threw it and she chased it again. The fire died down and I put a few more logs on.
The conversation quieted and still we sat there. I asked the kids a question, one that Maile and I have been pondering a lot lately.
“What’s something you’re afraid of? Not like a phobia. I’m talking about a fear you have about life or about yourself. What are you afraid of?”
And as each of our six children took a turn answering, it felt like a holy moment. One child shared that they’re afraid of disappointing themselves, that they’ve made mistakes in the past and are scared they’ll do it again. A few mentioned fears of letting others down. A few mentioned a fear of failure.
It’s not always easy to open the floodgates and encourage your children to talk about their fears—I see much of our parenting tangled up in the things that worry them, the things they fear, the way they respond to the world. It’s hard, for example, to hear a child talk about having a fear of letting people down and realize how much pressure you put on them when they were younger.
But it’s so, so good.
Maile and I have tried recently to emphasize truth-telling in the house. If you’re upset about something, tell us the truth about what you’re upset about and why. If you’re disappointed, tell the truth about it. It’s begun to revolutionize the way we communicate with each other. So much of our acting out, as children and as adults, comes from a frustration at not being able to tell the truth.
Afterwards, I felt like the conversation had a cleansing effect, like climbing out of a swim in cold water, or a baptism.
We cleaned up together, carrying everything back inside, doing the dishes. The kids laughed and teased each other and shouted. And the evening arrived. And another summer day came to an end.
We’ve got a few great events coming up at the store, including . . .
An evening with author Christie Purifoy about home, beauty, and gardening!
An afternoon with entrepreneur Anne Beiler, founder of Auntie Anne’s Soft Pretzels, where we’ll talk about her new cookbook!
A conversation with author
about her new children’s book!
To see all of our upcoming events, head over to our bookstore’s website.
Some recent posts you may have missed during the summer:
Such a great question. I turned it on myself and asked. I got my answer 🥹. I’m interested in hearing my kid’s responses. Encouraging truth-telling is really good. It opens parents up to vulnerability, because what if your kids truth has something to do with them? I’ve had a couple of those conversations and they are not easy, but necessary for open communication.
Love this question. Thank you for sharing the idea and your experience. You continue to inspire on multiple fronts.