I walked through the empty door frame of my son’s bedroom. Doors are a privilege in our home–not a right–and slamming them is likely to get them removed from their hinges. My son’s door had been removed, alright. It had been slammed, too, several times. To describe things in dad-speak: “It had not been a great evening.” De-escalation had happened, which is why he was remanded to his doorless room. Consequences were coming soon. The delicate work that comes between those steps was about to begin. The secret second step of forgiveness. The room’s only light came from a strip of soft, blue LEDs along the edge of his bed. He lay curled up in a ball with his back to me. The blue glow should have been calming. Honestly, he looked like he’d fallen into a tanning bed, or the biggest bug zapper known to man. I kept the observation to myself but praised God for the little gift of lightening my mood. We had a quiet conversation; punctuated with pauses and tears. Fifteen or so minutes later, I tra...