My father loved to pose riddles at the dinner table. In one of them there were two tribes, one with white hats and another with brown. The former always spoke the truth, the latter consistently lied. A woman was walking along and saw someone by a crossroads. She wanted to know which one led to town. Unfortunately a shadow fell on the hat making it impossible to discern the character of the stranger. 
 

What should she ask?

 

We kids puzzled over it while we chewed broccoli. I can't recall if any of us got it right, or Dad finally explained with his Cheshire cat grin. 

 

"If I asked you which path leads to the village, what would you say?"

 

If the person was a truth teller, all would be well. Truth relaying truth is still true. If he was a deceiver, the double negative would cancel out the misdirection. Either way, she would know where to go. 

 

Dad exercised our higher thinking skills, and we had fun solving puzzles. 

 

But in the real world, there are not always those unassailable delineations like the hue of our hats. Most of us dance, or stumble, between honesty and fabrication for a variety of causes.

 

I recall a time when I was at odds with a friend. I cared deeply for him, and yet the divide between us was an impasse. He held firmly to one stance. I believed another. Part of me wished he could be a complete scoundrel, which would justify my dissent.

 

But God seems bent on inviting us closer. Goodness draws us in, whereas contempt erects barricades. I took the small steps available to me. I prayed for him. Tipped my hat. Wished him well. Appreciated those qualities that I wholeheartedly love. With all those arrows pointing it was clearer which way to direct my feet.