Last year, I accompanied my husband Jonathan to the dentist. It was an opportunity for showing up and showing love … even though I was tempted to hide behind being busy. Jonathan needed a crown on a broken tooth, and – though he wouldn’t say it in so many words – he was a tad anxious about it. I inferred anxiety based on comments like, “Caroline! What if, when I open my mouth, and they look in and say, ‘Oh, we were wrong. We actually need to take them all out. Sorry! No more teeth for you!’ What then?!” I ...
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