I am in a new Writer’s Group. It’s not my first word rodeo. One of the laws of the universe is that nerds tend to dog sniff each other and assemble together. It’s precisely the paradise that you non-writers might imagine. Write, read, discuss, critique, repeat. Expression Nirvana.

The people in my group are quick witted and wise. Listening to the words they pen to screen makes me middle school dance kind of fidgety. I keep my arms down because of the pit sweat.

And, it isn’t just about the writing. It’s the intense feedback spoken through kindness and love. It’s the thought provoking conversation and stimulation beyond the obvious. It’s real and raw and it hypes me up like my favorite Ben & Jerry’s, To Russia with Buzz, A caffeinated blend of coffee and chocolate. No sleep for you.

At our last meeting, brought to you by Covid-19 in the Zoom room, one of our leaders, Jan, was offering insight. She leaned into the camera, a habit of in-person body language causing her beautiful aura to permeate my computer screen. She said, with conviction and passion, applauding the courage of another in our group, “Every family has a truth-sayer.” Damn. 

Truth-sayer. I tossed and turned that charge in my mental blender and decided to freeze it for future use. Then it kept defrosting itself, emotional and mental reflux, truth-sayer.

I am a student of the truth. In my purest self, I am literal without filter. I grind my own truth beans, bold and black, no room for cream, often making the blend stronger than one’s palate might prefer. Truth-blurter.

Fierce Conversations says that people have their own “piece of the truth.” The book offers the image of all of us standing on a different slice of a multi-colored beach ball. When you look down, you see green. When I look down, I see red. We are both on the same orb; we see different colors yielding our individual reality. Truth has interpretation. Truth is altered through the lens of personal experience. Truth is intimate. Truth-tailor.

When Riley was 13 a secret was uncovered that changed the trajectory of our family forever. The lies that had been buried and distorted run too deep for this blog and it’s not my story to tell. I played the role of detective and mom and remember that when Riley conjured the courage to share the truth it emerged in barely audible sentences. Those words were so inflamed, so brave to speak aloud, power boomed in their quiet. Truth-whisperer.

I have blood kin who have Bible references to justify every crappy thing they have ever done. They use excerpts from the good book as a jack-hammer to pile drive behavior and opinions, smiting and crushing as they go. It’s as if their version of God’s word has miraculously anointed them with the license to be a butthead. There are Sherwin Williams shades of truth, altered by lighting, location, and situation. Plus, there’s that whole theological snippet about casting stones. Truth-twister.

Ryann cut her own bangs when she was four. The huge cavity in her hairline, the clump of blonde hair partially hidden under the dresser, scissors on the counter and tears of guilt pointed at a narrative differing from her insistent denial. After a time of contemplative time-out, Ryann returned from her room with a simple question, “If we settle this hair cutting thing, can we go back to loving each other again?” Truth-redeemer.

I grew up in a family that did not allow you to say the word liar. That verbal accusation was a whippable offense. Not being questioned was essential to the dynamics of the familial government on our 27 acre farm. Straight-up honesty was important. Sideways honesty, not so much. I was grown before I realized that leaving out details was as much a falsification as misrepresenting them. If you could get something over on another, well, bless their hearts, they were asking for it, weren’t they? Truth-skipper.

Words and stories swirl in my head. I scribble notes on grocery lists and text myself phrases and thoughts. There is an energy to this mission. It is bubbling from an undercurrent propelled by being at the intersection of awareness of purpose and time, sweet time. I am not pretending to have the answer key, not for your test, not even for my own. I am simply moved to put my translation of life out into the universe. It’s my bruised and dusty truth. Hopefully it eases your mind and steadies your load. Truth-lifter.