Wolves shooting guns in the kitchen.

I was a liar as a child.  It is something really.  I would lie to my parents about all kinds of things.  Once I wrote my name on the side of our house with a pencil.  When my dad asked me if I had done it, I denied it.  Now, I am no lawyer, but I feel my defense may be weakened in these particular circumstances.

The amazing thing about all my childhood lying was that I really don't know why I did it.  I was a pretty good kid.  Sometimes my friends and I would do stupid stuff, but nothing illegal, that we knew of at the time.

My lying haunted me when I became a teenager. It was clear that my parents had a hard time trusting me.  Please understand that I completely agree with them at this point.  Who would trust someone that would lie about their homework almost everyday and then lie about how they had lied in order to try and get themselves out of trouble for lying.  Mom and dad, I get it.

This lack of trust in our home created a bit of a vacuum for healthy conversation and genuinely led my dad to becoming a stark raving lunatic.  I had cried wolf so many times in our home, the shepherds were just down right pissed. Let me explain.

I had BB Gun when I was a child, like all good boys.  I had shot many pop cans, neighboring cats and the occasional migratory bird.  I was actually pretty responsible with the device.  I know you don't believe me now, but I swear.  Anyway, on one fine day my friends and family popped a big bowl of popcorn in our Stir Crazy popper.  Being young, I was always inclined toward making a mess.  A number of the hot popcorn seeds spilled out of the popcorn maker and onto our linoleum kitchen floor.  The seeds were so hot that they melted little holes into the floor just about the exact size of a BB.  Do you see where I am going with this?

My dad, not exactly a morning person, woke up one afternoon after working hard as a long haul truck driver only to find his kitchen floor riddled with small holes. His red faced assessment led him to believe that I had walked around the kitchen shooting the floor with my BB gun.  I know, right?

I was confronted with the allegation whereupon I laughed quite loud.  My dad became enraged at my humorous downplaying of the situation and proceeded to deductively reason both my motivation for the crime and my general defiance in the home.  I was at a loss for words.  I thought he had gone nuts.

The sad part is, he was really angry and stayed that way for quite sometime.  What I considered to be something trivial and silly, he presumed to be wedge in our relationship.  That kinda sucked.  The wedge would have been an easily explained mishap if trust had been maintained.  Instead it was a family altering reality.

Trust is what it is because it is necessary in healthy relationships.  Trust is a non-negotiable component. Trust is like 1000 foot dam.  It appears powerful and strong and nearly invincible but as soon as one little leak is spotted, integrity and value become doubted and even dismissed.  Trust is the foundation for all relationships because it is both fragile and firm.  It tills the soil and nourishes the seed. You wonder why all of God's relationships with us were built on convenant...a old word for promise based on trust.

To this day, I am convinced that my dad still believes I shot his floor.  No worries dad, at least you never found the holes in the ceiling.