It was through an unrelated unfolding of circumstances that I became a privy to the expounding of the same event by two different individuals. With the one I share a gut-level personal and vocational history while with the other I live under the same general umbrella of external commonalities. My introduction into the story came first from the gut-friend. Then my umbrella-friend came by and casually related their observations of the same events. The disbelief about how different the story and the take on it was superglued my feet to the floor! As my umbrella-friend chatted away, a word came to me I couldn’t ignore, They are only telling you what they think you want to hear. What?! Are you talking about me? Or my friend? I almost muttered loudly. As I listened to the chatty account, a growing sense of sadness filled my mind and heart. I wondered why anybody would tell me only what they think I want to hear. Are they afraid of how I may respond? Do they not want to hurt my feelings by giving me a piece of harsh reality? Is there a privilege that may be lost by exposing the truth? Is it simply easier to keep polishing the veneer and ignore the messy chaos churning underneath? And how can anybody presume upon knowing what I want to hear? Where is the truth then? It is sacrificed on the altar of happy talk and mutual back-patting. Maybe next time I talk to a friend I need to ask, Do you want me to tell you only what I think you want to hear or do you want to hear the whole story? And the other way around, Are you going to tell me only what you think I want to hear, or are you going to tell me the real story?