Four inches of snow and six hours later, I found myself the referee of yet another Griffith squabble. Dustin's rosy forearms bore witness to the forceful slaps they had just received, but I knew that Hunter would not have acted unprovoked. I had a decision to make: I could shrug off the through of inconsistency and punish the youngest--after all, I trusted the eldest, he was the one who had come to me with grievance, and there were no evident marks of retaliation on Hunter; or I could find the truth hidden under the embellishments and lies. Believing Dustin's story was the easy choice. The outline handprints on his arms were obvious indicators of the offense.
But deep within me, I knew something more had happened. Steph was sitting at the computer in the adjoining room when the quarrel had erupted; I went to her hoping to receive valuable information. With the little information she was able to provide, I determined that there was, no doubt, more to the story than I was being told.
I sat the boys down and began extracting the truth. I allowed Dustin to fist tell his story. He frantically related al that had happened, pointing at the red prints covering his arms. Upon his completion, Hunter, eyes overwhelmed with tears of pain and fear, recounted his tale between sobs of remorse and hurt. As he neared the end, he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a fresh indentation on his skin.
Yes, something more had happened. The bite marks were clearly evidence that the whole truth had not been told.
I've been on the raw end; in fact, that's where I spend every hour of my life. Being there, I know what it feels like when your side of the story isn't heard. So, dare to be different and ask for the whole truth. Don't settle for anything less than the whole story. Don't settle to be average.
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