Just a little white lie

Something I have never been able to do is lie to my mother. Actually, I'd make a sorry poker player, because I just can't lie with a straight face to anyone. It's just not in my nature. (Maybe my name, which according to a few sources I've looked up means "truth", is an appropriate one?)

Today, I looked straight into my mother's face and told her a fib. I felt so guilty. This one won't hurt anyone, and today, my mother needed to hear something cheerful. She fell last week and broke her arm in two places, right above her right wrist. She's been in a good deal of pain, and the worst part is that it's her dominant hand. She can't do her needlework that she loves so dearly.

So, God forgive me; I told my mother a lie. I told her she won a blue ribbon on the little redwork sampler I entered in the fair for her, when in truth, it placed third.

I think maybe, looking at the other entries placed around it, that it got judged in the wrong category. It was a stamped cross-stitch, not a counted one like the others around it, and by comparison, it did look a little sad. My mother is eighty-six years old, and when many people are just sitting around complaining about what they can't do, she is stitching away at something. Maybe it's not twelve stitches to the inch linen, but it's precious to me. It's the Best of Show in my book. Grand Champion.

The look on her face when I told her about the ribbon was priceless. It was really the first time I'd seen her smile genuinely in a couple of weeks. For the first time in my life, I was really bragging on her. Why did it take me so long? She has always been the one to brag on me.

When I pick up the ribbons and entries next Sunday, I will carefully take one from some of my own items (I entered seven, and they all placed first), and will pin it to her sampler and take it to her. She will be thrilled, and so will I.

I love my Mama, and she's a winner in my eyes.