THE BEST ADVICE I EVER HAD G1sr04

 4. THE BEST ADVICE I EVER HAD

When I was about 15, I had an enemy, a girl who liked to point out my shortcomings. Week by week her list grew: I was skinny, I talked too loud, I was too proud, and so on. I put up with her as long as I could. At last, I ran to my father in tears and anger.

He listened to my outburst quietly. Then he asked, "Are the things she says true—or not?"

True? I wanted to know how to strike back. What did truth have to do with it?

"Mary, didn't you ever wonder what you're really like? Well, you now have that girl's opinion. Go make a list of everything she said and mark the points that are true. You needn't pay attention to the other things she said.”

I did as he told me and discovered to my surprise that about half the things were true. Some of them I couldn't change (like being skinny), but a good number I could—and suddenly wanted to—change. For the first time in my life I began to get quite a clear picture of myself.

I brought the list back to Daddy, but he wouldn't take it.

"That's just for you, "he said." You know better than anybody else the truth about yourself, once you hear it. But you've got to learn to listen, not close your ears in anger or hurt. When someone says something about you, you'll know if it's true or not. If it is, you'll find it will echo inside you."

"I still don't think it very nice of her to talk about me in front of everybody, "I said.

"Mary, there is one way you could stop others talking about you ever again, and criticizing you—just say nothing and do nothing. But then, if you do that, you'd find you were nothing. You wouldn't like that now, would you?"

"No," I admitted.

Later, I was to have another, more painful lesson about hearing the truth. It happened the week we were to put on a play in which I had the lead. How eager and excited I was!

A few days before the show, some of my friends decided to have a picnic at a nearby lake. It was still rather cold. Mother wanted me to stay home so that I might not catch cold, but I insisted on going. After making me promise not to go swimming, she gave in.

Well, I kept the words but not the spirit of that promise. When the others went into the water I couldn't stand being left behind. I put on my swimming-suit, too, and went out in a rowboat.

When at last I headed for shore, some of the boys began to rock my boat. Just as I was about to reach the shore, it went over. Trying to keep out of the water, I took a leap for shore. I made it— but I landed on a broken bottle. My heel was cut right to the bone!

I didn't get to star in the play, but had to lie still in hospital. “But I kept my promise not to go swimming,” I said to daddy.

“Mary, you listened to only half of what your mother said. What she really made you promise was to try not to catch cold. Going swimming was only part of it. You let yourself hear only part of the truth. And that's why you ended up like this.”

I made a final excuse: “All my friends thought it would be all right, if I stayed in the boat.”

"And they all were wrong, weren't they?” He paused a moment. “You’ll find the world is full of people who think they know better than you. Don't shut your ears to them. Hear them out, but listen out only for the truth and do what you know is the right thing to do.”

Daddy's advice has returned to me at many critical moments in my life and it has worked.