Whenever I make a mistake, and my husband responds with kind eyes and a soft, warm voice, he gives me a corrective experience.
Let me explain. When I was born, my father was 52 years old. He was old enough to be my grandfather. He was tired. He had fought in the Second World War. He had been married with two children. He had worked hard all of his life. I was born in his second marriage to a much younger woman, my mother. To have her, he had to have me and my sister. We were part of the trade-off.
My dad thought that children should be seen and not heard. Of course, that was how he grew up in the early 1900’s. He was tired and didn’t tolerate mistakes well. If we spilled things, we were scolded. If we made mistakes, we were told off quickly.
By the time I was a teenager, I didn’t need Dad to tell me off. I was good at it myself. As an adult, I had internalised much of that criticism.
The missing experience for me is to make mistakes and have a man not be critical but kind, open, gentle and allowing.
In my marriage, whenever I make a mistake, and my husband responds with kind eyes and a soft, warm voice, he gives me a corrective experience.
I’m so grateful for all the moments we offer each other these gentle corrective experiences
