Marriage group this week was ordinary. Words swung back and forth between the people in the circle, and we smiled at our partners when they spoke. No one cried. There weren't any volcanic insights. Just companionship. 

After a day of ricocheting emotions I found it soothing. Familiar. Easy. Like being barefoot on a swing in late May.

One of the things we spoke of was apologizing. As it happens, this small detour from our agenda shows up periodically, at inconvenient times. I needed to say I was sorry to a friend last week for keeping her waiting. Aurelle deserved amends the other morning when I started backing up the car before she was all the way inside.  

The book 5 Languages of Apology suggests that there are varying styles of reconciliation. The one that blinks like a traffic light to me is the suggestion that we could ask how our misstep affected the other person. Give them a chance to talk. 

"How can I make it up to you? What might I do differently?"

The reason it jars is because my knee jerk reaction is to blurt out an apology, and move on as quickly as possible. Like paying a parking ticket. No one asks the officer how he or she felt about my car blocking the fire hydrant. But when our actions have impacted a person we love, it behooves us to find out details. Even if I don't want to. Especially because I don't want to. 

It makes me vulnerable to give the reins of the conversation over to the person I have hurt. But that is precisely where they belong.