The supper table hadn't yet been cleared. Coffee cups were still half full. And the children had been excused from the table. They knew that something was not right between their parents, they could tell. Their mother had been tight-lipped during the earlier part of the meal. Their father had not said much which was unusual because he always had a story or two to tell. But tonight it was different. Without any protest the children left the table and went to do their homework.

When the doors had been closed and the children safely out of earshot the discussion began. It may have been nothing too much to worry about, but it was something that had been bothering her for a week now. Why, she wanted to know, did he insist on stating his opinion publicly? Why couldn't he simply remain quiet instead of having to always speak?

She had been brought up in a home where she had been taught to keep opinions to one's self. People didn't care what you thought. That's what she'd been taught by her parents. For all of her life she had followed their instruction. She couldn't remember a time when she had stated an opinion publicly. Granted, in their own home she would express herself but not in public. And now her husband had spoken once too often. She intended to let him know.

Whispered words can also be intense words. They didn't raise their voices. They didn't have to. She told him; he listened. He explained that in his home people were always encouraged to speak their mind. Let people know what you think. That's what his father had always told him.

The children knew that the discussion was over when they heard the dishes clanking in the sink. Their father walked the dog and then their mother had tucked them in.

Early the next morning, as each of the children came into the kitchen their mother confided in them.

"Last night you know that your father and I had an argument." Each of the children knew that. It had been impossible to conceal the fact.

"You may wonder why." In fact, each did.

"The cause of the argument is not really of concern to you. But I will tell you why we talked at the table. Because when we got married the minister placed his hand on ours and said, 'Don't ever let the sun go down on anger.' Your father and I have always followed that counsel. Because we have always cleared the air before retiring for the night our marriage has held together. We want you children to know that conflict will happen, differences will appear. But your marriage stands a better chance if you never let the sun go down on anger."

The children learned about one of the most important parts of their parents' relationship. They never let the sun set on their anger.