A woman told me about the time when she was thirteen and she went to her first party and had her first alcohol. She was dropped off at home so drunk that all she could do was lie on the front porch, barely able to move. Her father—a big, strict disciplinarian—came out and she thought he was going to scream at her the very thoughts she was thinking about herself: “I’m bad. I’m bad.” Instead, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside and placed her on the living room couch and said, “There’ll be no punishment here. You’ve had an experience.” He knew what she was thinking; she felt
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