"How'd you like it, Stephen?"

"Fine," he answered.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes."

"What did you like most?"

"I don't know. The trampoline, I guess."

"That was quite a thing, wasn't it? Doing those somersaults and tricks in the air like that?"

There wasn't much response on his part. I found myself making conversation. I wondered why Stephen wouldn't open up more. He usually did when exciting things happened. I was a little disappointed. I sensed something was wrong; he had been so quiet on the way home and getting ready for bed.

Suddenly Stephen turned over on his side to face the wall. I wondered why and lifted myself up just enough to see his eyes welling up with tears.

"What's wrong, honey? What is it?"

He turned back, and I could sense he was feeling some embarrassment for the tears and his quivering lips and chin.

"Daddy, if I were cold, would you put your coat around me, too?"

Of all the events of that special night out together, the most important was a little act of kindness-a momentary, unconscious showing of love to his little brother. What a powerful, personal lesson that was to me of the importance of kindness!

In relationships the little things are the big things. One woman told of growing up in a home where there was a plaque on the kitchen wall that read: "To do carefully and constantly and kindly many little things is not a little thing."

Cynthia (daughter): One thing that stands out in my mind about being a teenager is the feeling of being overwhelmed. I remember the pressure of trying to do well in school and being on the debate team and involved in three or four other things all at the same time.

And sometimes I'd come home and I'd find my whole room clean and organized. There would be a note that said, "Love, the Good Fairy," and I knew Mom had just worked her head off to help me get ahead because I was so overwhelmed with what I had to do.

It really took a load off. I would come into that room and just whisper, "Oh, thank you. Thank you!"

Little kindnesses go a long way toward building relationships of trust and unconditional love. Just think about the impact in your own family of using words or phrases such as thank you, please, excuse me, you go first, and may I help you. Or performing unexpected acts of service such as helping with the dishes, taking children shopping for something that's important to them, or phoning to see if there's anything you can pick up at the store on the way home. Or finding little ways to express love, such as sending flowers, tucking a note in a lunch box or briefcase, or phoning to say "I love you" in the middle of the day. Or expressing gratitude and appreciation. Or giving sincere compliments. Or showing recognition-not just at times of special achievement or on occasions such as birthdays but on ordinary days, and just because your spouse or your children are who they are.

Twelve hugs a day-that's what people need. Hugs come physically, verbally, visually, environmentally. We all need twelve hugs a day-different forms of emotional nourishment from other people or perhaps spiritual nourishment through meditation or prayer.

I know of one woman who grew up in poverty and contention, but came to realize how important such kindness and courtesy are in the home. She learned it where she worked-at a very prestigious hotel where the entire staff had a culture of courtesy toward every guest. She knew how good it made people feel to be treated so royally. She also realized how good it made her feel to perform acts of kindness and courtesy. One day she decided to try acting this way at home with her own family. She began doing little acts of service for family members. She began using language that was positive, gentle, and kind. When serving breakfast, for example, she would say, as she did at work, "It's my pleasure!" She told me it transformed both her and her family and began a new intergenerational cycle.

One thing my brother John and his wife, Jane, do in their family is take time every morning to compliment one another. Family members take turns being the target for such compliments. And what a difference that makes!

One morning their strong, athletic son-the football hero of the high school-came bounding down the stairs with such energy, such excitement that Jane couldn't imagine why he was so animated.

"Why are you so excited?" she asked.

"It's my morning for compliments!" he replied with a smile.

One of the most important dimensions of kindness is expressing appreciation. What an important deposit to make-and to teach-in the family!

Apologizing

Perhaps there is nothing that tests our proactive capacity as much as saying "I'm sorry" to another person. If your security is based on your image or your position or on being right, to apologize is like draining all the juice from your ego. It wipes you out. It pushes every one of your human gifts to its limit.

Colleen (daughter): Several years ago Matt and I went up to the cabin to be with the whole family for Christmas. I don't remember the details, but for some reason I was supposed to drive Mom to Salt Lake City the next day. As it happened, I already had another obligation and couldn't do it. When Dad heard my response, he just exploded-totally lost it.

"You're being selfish!" he said. "You really need to do this!" And he said a lot of other things he didn't mean.

Surprised by his abrasive response, I started crying. I was deeply hurt. I was so used to his being understanding and considerate all the time. In fact, in my whole life I can remember only about two times that he really lost his temper with me, so it took me aback. I shouldn't have taken offense, but I did. Finally, I said, "Okay, I'll do it," knowing he wouldn't listen to my conflict.

I headed home, and my husband came with me. "We're not going back tonight," I said. "I don't even care if we miss the family Christmas party!" And all the way down the canyon I was harboring bad feelings.

Shortly after we got home, the phone rang. Matt answered it. He said, "It's your dad."

"I don't want to talk to him," I said, still hurt. But I really did, so I finally picked up the phone.

"Darling," he said, "I apologize. There's really no excuse that could justify my losing my temper with you, but let me tell you what's been going on." He told me that they had just started building the house, finances had been swelling up, things at the business were kind of shaky, and then with Christmas and the whole family there, he had felt so much pressure he blew up and I received the brunt of it. "I just took it all out on you," he said. "I'm so sorry. I apologize." I then returned the apology, knowing I had overreacted.

Dad's apology was a big deposit in my Emotional Bank Account. And we had had a great relationship to begin with.

Matt and I went back up that night, I rearranged my schedule for the next day, took my mom to Salt Lake City, and it was as if nothing had happened. If anything, my dad and I grew closer because he could apologize immediately. I think it took a lot for him to be able to step back from the situation so quickly and say "I'm sorry."

Even though our temper may surface only one-hundredth of 1 percent of the time, it will affect the quality of all the rest of the time if we do not take responsibility for it and apologize. Why? Because people never know when they might hit our raw nerve, so they're always inwardly worried about it and defending themselves against it by second-guessing our behavior and curbing their own natural, spontaneous, intuitive responses.

The sooner we learn to apologize, the better. World traditions affirm this idea. The Far Eastern expression is so apt here: "If you're going to bow, bow low." A great lesson is also taught in the Bible about paying the uttermost farthing.

Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing.

There are undoubtedly a number of ways to apply this instruction in our lives, but one may be this: Whenever we disagree with others, we need to quickly "agree" with them-not on the issue of disagreement (that would compromise our integrity) but on the right to disagree, to see it the way they see it. Otherwise, to protect themselves they will put us into a mental/emotional "prison" in their own mind. And we won't be released from this prison until we pay the uttermost farthing-until we humbly and fully acknowledge our mistake in not allowing them the right to disagree. And we must do this without in any way saying, "I'll say I'm sorry if you'll say you're sorry."

If you attempt to pay the uttermost farthing by merely trying to be better and not apologizing, other people may still be suspicious and keep you behind these prison bars, behind the mental and emotional labels they have put on you that give them some feeling of security in knowing not to expect much from you.

We all "blow it" from time to time. In other words, we get off track. And when we do, we need to own up to it, humbly acknowledge it, and sincerely apologize.

Honey, I'm so sorry I embarrassed you in front of your friends. That was wrong of me. I'm going to apologize to you and also to your friends. I should never have done that. I got on some kind of an ego trip with you, and I'm sorry. I hope you will give me another chance.

Sweetheart, I apologize for cutting you off that way. You were trying to share something with me that you feel deeply about, and I got so caught up in my own agenda that I just came on like a steamroller. Will you please forgive me?

Notice again in these apologies how all four gifts are being used. First, you're aware of what's happening. Second, you consult your conscience and tap into your moral or ethical sense. Third, you have a sense of what is possible-what would be better. And fourth, you act on the other three. If any one of these four is neglected, the entire effort will break down, and you will end up trying to defend, justify, explain, or cover up the offensive behavior in some way. You may apologize, but it's superficial, it's not sincere.

Being Loyal to Those Not Present

What happens when family members are not loyal to one another, when they criticize and gossip about the others behind their backs? What does it do to the relationship, to the culture when family members make disloyal comments to other family members or to their friends: "My husband is such a tightwad! He worries about every penny we spend."

"My wife jabbers constantly. You'd think she could shut up and let me get a word in once in a while."

"Did you hear what my son did the other day? He talked back to a teacher. They called me from the school. It was so embarrassing! I don't know what to do with that kid. He's always causing trouble."

"I can't believe my mother-in-law! She tries to control everything we do. I don't know why my wife can't just cut the apron strings and get it over with."

Comments like these are huge withdrawals not only from the person spoken about but also from the person spoken to. For example, if you were to discover that someone had made one of these comments about you, how would it make you feel? You'd probably feel misunderstood, violated, unjustly criticized, unfairly accused. How would it affect the amount of trust in your relationship with that person? Would you feel safe? Would you feel affirmed? Would you feel you could confide in that person and your confidence would be treated with respect?

On the other hand, if someone said something like this to you about someone else, how would you feel? You might initially be pleased that the person had "confided" in you, but wouldn't you begin to wonder if that same person, in a different circumstance, might say something equally negative about you to someone else?

Next to apologizing, the toughest and one of the most important deposits an individual can make-or an entire family can adopt as a fundamental value and commitment-is to be loyal to family members when they are not present. In other words, talk about others as if they were present. That doesn't mean you are unaware of their weaknesses and are Pollyannaish and take the "ostrich head in the sand" approach. It means, rather, that you usually focus on the positive rather than the negative-and if you do talk about those weaknesses, you do it in such a responsible and constructive way that you would not be ashamed to have those people you're talking about overhear your conversation.

A friend of ours had an eighteen-year-old son whose habits irritated his married brother and sisters and their spouses. When he wasn't there (which was often, since he spent most hours away from home with friends), the family would talk about him. Their favorite conversation centered on his girlfriends, his habit of sleeping late, and his demands on his mother to serve him at his beck and call. This man participated in these rather gossipy conversations about his son, and the discussions caused him to believe that his son was truly irresponsible.

At one point this friend became aware of what was happening and the part he was playing in it. He decided to follow the principle of being loyal to those not present by being loyal to his son. Thereafter, when such conversations began to develop, he would gently interrupt any negative comments and say something good that he had observed his son doing. He had a good story to counteract any derogatory comments the others might make. Soon the conversation would lose its spice and shift to other, more interesting subjects.

Our friend said he soon felt that the others in the family began to connect with this principle of family loyalty. They began to realize that he would also defend them if they were not present. And in some almost unexplainable manner-perhaps because he began to see his son differently-this change also improved his Emotional Bank Account with this son, who hadn't even been aware of the family conversations about him. Bottom line: The way you treat any relationship in the family will eventually affect every relationship in the family.

I remember one time when I was running out of the house to go somewhere in a hurry. I knew that if I stopped to say good-bye to my three-year-old son Joshua, I would get caught up in his needs and questions. It would take time, and I was into efficiency. So I said to my other children, "See ya, kids. I've got to run! Don't tell Joshua I'm going."

I got halfway out to the car before I realized what I had just done. I turned around, went back into the house, and said to the other children, "That was wrong of me to run out on Joshua like that and not to say good-bye to him as well. I'm going to find him to say good-bye."

Sure enough, I had to spend some time with him. I had to talk with him about what he wanted to talk about before I could go. But it built the Emotional Bank Account with Joshua and with the other children as well.

I sometimes think: What would have happened if I hadn't gone back? What if I had gone to Joshua that night and tried to have a good relationship with him? Would he have been loving and open with me if he knew I had run out on him when he wanted and needed me? How would this have affected my relationship with my other sons and daughters? Would they have thought that I would run out on them, too, if interacting with them sidetracked my agenda?

The message sent to one is truly sent to all because everyone is a "one," and they know that if you treat one that way, all it takes is a change of circumstances and you'll treat them that way, too. That's why it is so important to be loyal to those not present.

Notice here, too, how all four gifts are in proactive use. To be loyal, you have to be self-aware. You have to have a sense of conscience, a moral sense of right and wrong. You have to have a sense of what's possible, what's better. And you have to have the intestinal fortitude to make it happen.

Being loyal to those not present is clearly a proactive choice.

Making and Keeping Promises

Many times over the years people have asked if I had one idea that would best help people grow so that they could better cope with their problems, seize their opportunities, and make their life successful. I've come to give a simple four-word answer: "Make and keep promises."

Although this may sound like an oversimplification, I truly believe it is profound. In fact, as you will discover, all of the first three habits are embodied in that simple four-word expression. If an entire family would cultivate the spirit of making and keeping promises to one another, it would create a multitude of other good things.

Cynthia (daughter): When I was twelve years old, Dad promised to take me with him on a business trip to San Francisco. I was so excited! We talked about the trip for three months. We were going to be there for two days and one night, and we planned every detail. Dad was going to be busy in meetings the first day, so I would hang around the hotel. After his meetings, we planned to take a cab to Chinatown and have our favorite Chinese food. Then we'd see a movie, take a ride on a trolley car, and go back to our hotel room for a video and hot fudge sundaes from room service. I was dying with anticipation.

The day finally arrived. The hours dragged by as I waited at the hotel. Six o'clock came, but Dad didn't. Finally, at 6:30, he arrived with another man-a dear friend and an influential business acquaintance. I remember how my heart sank as this man said, "I'm so excited to have you here, Stephen. Tonight, Lois and I would like to take you to the wharf for a spectacular seafood dinner, and then you must see the view from our house." When Dad told him I was there, this man said, "Of course, she can come, too. We'd love having her."

Oh, great! I thought. I hate fish, and I'll be stuck alone in the backseat while Dad and his friend talk. I could see all my hopes and plans going down the drain.

My disappointment was bigger than life. This man was pressing so hard. I wanted to say, "Dad, this is our time together! You promised!" But I was twelve years old, so I only cried inside.

I will never forget the feeling I had when Dad said, "Gosh, Bill, I'd love to see you both, but this is a special time with my girl. We've already got it planned to the minute. You were kind to invite us." I could tell this man was disappointed, but-amazingly to me-he seemed to understand.

We did absolutely everything we had planned on that trip. We didn't miss a thing. That was just about the happiest time of my life. I don't think any young girl ever loved her father as much as I loved mine that night.

I'm convinced you would be hard-pressed to come up with a deposit that has more impact in the family than making and keeping promises. Just think about it! How much excitement, anticipation, and hope is created by a promise? And the promises we make in the family are the most vital and often the most tender promises of all.

The most foundational promise we ever make to another human being is the vow inside a marriage. It's the ultimate promise. And equal to it is the promise we implicitly have with our children-particularly when they're little-that we will take care of them, that we will nurture them. That's why divorce and abandonment are such painful withdrawals. Those involved often feel as though the ultimate promises have been broken. So when these things have occurred, it becomes even more important to make deposits that will help rebuild bridges of confidence and trust.

At one time a man who had helped me on a particular project described the awful divorce he had just gone through. But he spoke with a kind of glowing pride about how he had kept the promise he had made to himself and his wife many months before that no matter what happened, he would not bad-mouth her-especially in front of his kids-and that he would always speak of her in ways that were affirming, uplifting, and positive. This was during the time when the legal and emotional battles were going on, and he said it was the hardest thing he had ever done. But he also said how grateful he was that he did it because it made all the difference-not only in how his children felt about themselves but also in how they felt about both their parents and their sense of family, despite the very difficult situation. He couldn't say enough about how glad he was that he kept the promise he had made.

Even when promises have been broken in the past, you can sometimes turn the situation into a deposit. I remember a man once who didn't come through on a commitment he had made to me. Later, he asked if he could have the opportunity to do something else, and I said no. Based on my past experience with him, I wasn't sure he would follow through.

But that man said to me, "I didn't come through before. I should have acknowledged it. I just gave a halfhearted effort, and that was wrong of me. Would you please give me one more opportunity? Not only will I come through, I will come through in gangbuster style."

I agreed, and he did it. He came through in a remarkable way. And in my eyes, he rose even higher than if he had kept his first commitment. His courage in coming back, in dealing with a difficult problem and a mistake in an honorable way, made a massive deposit in my Emotional Bank Account.

Forgiving

For many people the ultimate test of the proactive muscle comes in forgiving. In fact, you will always be a victim until you forgive.

One woman shared this experience: I came from a very united family. We were always together-children, parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents-and we dearly loved one another.

When my father followed my mother in death, it deeply saddened us all. The four of us children met to divide our parents' things among us and our families. What happened at that meeting was an unforeseen shock from which we thought we would never recover. We had always been an emotional family, and at times we had disagreed to the point of some arguing and temporary ill will toward one another. But this time we argued beyond anything we had ever known before. The fight became so heated that we found ourselves yelling bitterly at one another. We began to emotionally tear at each other. Without being able to settle our differences, we each determined and announced that we were going to get lawyers to represent us and that the matter would be settled in court.

Each of us left that meeting feeling bitter and deeply resentful. We stopped visiting or even phoning one another. We stopped getting together on birthdays or holidays.

The situation went on for four years. It was the hardest trial of my life. Often, I felt the pain of loneliness and the unforgiving spirit of the bitterness and accusations that divided us. As my pain deepened, I kept thinking, If they really loved me, they would call me. What's wrong with them? Why don't they call?

Then one day I learned about the concept of the Emotional Bank Account. I came to realize that not forgiving my brothers and sisters was reactive on my part and that love is a verb, an action, something that I must do.

That night, as I was sitting alone in my room, the phone seemed to cry out to be used. I mustered all my courage and dialed the number of my oldest brother. When I heard his wonderful voice say, "Hello," tears flooded my eyes, and I could scarcely speak.

When he learned who it was, his emotions matched mine. We each raced to be the first to say, "I'm sorry." The conversation turned to expressions of love, forgiveness, and memories.

I called the others. It took most of the night. Each responded just as my oldest brother had.

That was the greatest and most significant night of my life. For the first time in four years I felt whole. The pain that had quietly been ever present was gone-replaced by the joy of forgiveness and peace. I felt renewed.

Notice how all four gifts came into play in this remarkable reconciliation. Look at this woman's depth of awareness of what was happening. Observe this woman's connection with her conscience, her moral sense. Also note how the concept of the Emotional Bank Account created a vision of what is possible and how these three gifts joined in producing the willpower to forgive and connect together again, and to experience the happiness that such an emotional reunion brings.

Another woman shared this experience: I remember as a child feeling happy and secure. I have warm memories of going on picnics as a family, playing games in the front room, and gardening together. I knew my parents loved each other and they loved us children.

But as I reached my mid-teens, things began to change. My dad went on occasional business trips. He began working late at night and on Saturdays. The relationship between him and my mom seemed strained. He didn't spend time with the family anymore. One night as I was returning home from the graveyard shift at the restaurant where I worked, I saw my Dad pull up at the same time. I realized then that he hadn't been home all night.