Exploring Florida’s coast, where a restroom stop became a reminder to consider the next person.
One of the first times my husband Bill and I ordered groceries through Instacart, an extra bag arrived with our delivery. It contained expensive food we hadn’t ordered or paid for.
The bag was still on the porch, and the delivery person had not even left the driveway when I contacted Instacart. I wanted him to come back and collect it.
The representative thanked me but explained that once groceries were in someone’s possession, they couldn’t take them back. We should keep the food.
Then he thanked me again. He said he had never experienced someone asking before.
I’ve remembered that conversation. Calling seemed the obvious thing to do. The food wasn’t ours. I didn’t know we would be allowed to keep it when I offered to return it.
An ordinary grocery delivery had presented an opportunity to act on something I believed.
Integrity offers us opportunities like that every day.
We often discuss integrity through dramatic situations: exposing wrongdoing, refusing a dishonest request, or telling a truth that could cost us a job or relationship. Those choices matter enormously.
But we also demonstrate integrity in everyday, normal circumstances—just life. Pressure tests our convictions. Ordinary follow-through expresses them, too.
Integrity is a choice we make in what we say, what we take responsibility for, and whether our actions reflect what we believe.
Making the Next Person Matter
My sister, her boyfriend, and I were exploring the Florida coast, from Pass-a-Grille toward Clearwater, when we stopped at a park to use the restroom.
The stalls had no toilet paper.
My sister began worrying about the people who would come to the park restroom after us. She searched for supplies and tried to find a park ranger to report the problem. She wanted to make sure the next visitors would find what they needed.
Despite her running around and best efforts, we couldn’t find supplies. When we returned to the restrooms, we found a small sign we hadn’t noticed: “Restrooms are not stocked or cleaned in the off-season.”
We left without solving the problem.
Still, I remember what my sister did. The inconvenience to strangers mattered enough for her to interrupt our outing and try to help.
Her consideration became action. The unsuccessful outcome didn’t erase that effort—or the care.
We cannot always make things right. We can take responsibility for the parts within our control.
Keeping Faith When We Feel Uncomfortable
Writer Christine Destrempes tells a story about attending her first dinner with her boyfriend’s family. She was already intimidated by their circumstances and worried about making a good impression.
Then her three-year-old son, Jesse, admired a bowl on the table.
Told it was china, he confused the word with “vagina,” which his mother had recently explained to him.
Suddenly, Christine faced a choice: brush aside his question to spare herself embarrassment, or honor her commitment to answer him honestly.
She explained the difference plainly, without making him feel ashamed for asking. An awkward silence followed. Then her boyfriend’s father praised her answer.
She hadn’t known he would approve when she chose to speak. In that moment, integrity meant keeping faith with her child despite her discomfort.
Many of us recognize this kind of moment before we answer. We could agree when we don’t agree. Pretend we don’t know. Let an inaccurate impression stand because correcting it would embarrass us. We can honestly say, “I’d rather not discuss it.” But pretending to agree just to keep the peace is a different choice.
A family member once asked Bill what he thought the best outcome of the Russia–Ukraine war would be. He said he thought Ukraine should consider a negotiated settlement because he believed winning would be nearly impossible. The family member didn’t speak to us for months.
An honest answer can cost us a person’s approval, even when they asked for our opinion. We can listen, acknowledge uncertainty, and express disagreement considerately. We cannot guarantee that our answer will be welcome. But we can honor their question with our honesty and integrity.
Honesty asks something of us then. So does consideration. We can tell the truth with care for the person receiving it.
Living a Commitment Over Years
Another example comes from a family I know.
When the couple married, the woman already had a son. She and her husband later had several children together.
Over the years, I have watched this father fully include their son in family life. In photographs, celebrations, and ordinary gatherings, his place is unquestioned. The other children lean on him and hold him, their loved big brother.
Now that the son has married, his wife belongs just as naturally, a big sister to the younger children.
I see integrity in that father’s faithful commitment to being this boy’s dad.
Some choices take a moment. Others are renewed over decades. A commitment becomes trustworthy through the many occasions when a person lives it.
What Our Choices Build
During my fifty-five years of consulting and training, I have seen how closely people watch what others actually do.
A stated commitment to fairness becomes credible when a leader applies it to a favored employee.
A promise becomes dependable when a person follows through after the initial enthusiasm has passed.
Admitting an error makes it easier for another to acknowledge that they made a mistake.
The same is true at home.
The choices we repeatedly make show people what to expect from us. They also shape what we expect of ourselves.
Each time we take responsibility for our actions, tell the truth, or keep a commitment, we practice being the kind of person who does those things.
Sometimes the cost is a phone call, a delay, or an uncomfortable conversation. Sometimes it is money, approval, an opportunity, or a relationship we wanted to preserve.
No one may thank us. Our efforts may fail. Doing what we believe is right doesn’t guarantee a satisfying outcome.
Sometimes our efforts will fall short. Integrity asks us to acknowledge that honestly, repair what we can, and bring our behavior back into line with our convictions.
Our beliefs deserve examination, too, especially when we discover that acting on them has harmed someone.
Opportunities to demonstrate integrity present themselves every day: return what isn’t ours, admit a mistake before someone else takes the blame, offer an honest and considered opinion in response to a sincere question, fulfill a responsibility another person is counting on.
Our choices reach beyond the moment. A child learns that questions are welcome. A family member knows he belongs. A stranger may never know that someone considered their needs—but we know.
I notice integrity most often in people quietly following through on what matters to them. My sister’s unsuccessful search for toilet paper has stayed with me because she made the next person’s needs her concern.
What matters to us becomes part of other people’s lives through what we do.
Live what you believe. Create the world you want to live in.
More on Living with Integrity
These earlier ValuesCrafting essays explore how our convictions become actions—and what happens when following through is difficult.
When Integrity Costs You: How to Do the Right Thing Anyway: Responding when honesty and fairness put comfort, approval, or opportunity at risk.
Demonstrate Integrity Through Your Actions: Building trust through honesty, responsibility, and keeping our commitments.
Lapses in Integrity and Why They Matter: Recognizing the everyday choices and rationalizations that can undermine trust.
Continue the Conversation
I continue these conversations in Substack Notes, where I share the smaller observations and questions that often become future ValuesCrafting essays.
Have you noticed an everyday act of integrity that stayed with you?
I’d love to hear your story in the comments.