the miraculous power of the little white lie

i have this title floating around....the miraculous power, or maybe, the miraculous healing of the little white lie...the words just dance when i hear them inwardly or outwardly...i have been mulling them about for at least a week..the problem is filling in the giant blank that follows this title....
i think about my mother, in her early 80's, body stricken with various age related maladies....eyes dark and twinkling, the mischevious, rebellious little girl trapped in the twisted wreckage of life and age.
i think of both of the above, what was and is my mother and what isnt yet the story behind the title
i have begun a subtle, empathetic secret voyage, with the mother i never really knew, who never really knew, nor accepted, me...but how does one ever accept someone they have relegated to a stranger, bound by their own controlling notions, blind to what is standing in front of them