It was a Sunday afternoon, about a decade ago, when my oldest son, Mateo, was three. I remember it vividly—not because it was a picture-perfect moment, but because it wasn’t.

I was sprawled on my bed, barely conscious, as a movie played on the TV. Mateo lay beside me, his head resting on my chest, eagerly watching, probably hoping his dad might come alive and join in.

But I was too tired. Exhausted, really. I was there, but not there.

Physically present, yes. Emotionally? Absolutely not.

Friends, it is great to connect with you again after a break from writing this summer.

I hope that you were able to receive the beauty of this season, and with it, the love of God and his gift of rest and restoration for your soul.

I recently wrote about conflict, and the counsel that my dear mentor offered years ago, on how my role (and yours) as a husband is not to be right, but to restore union.

As I mentioned then, this counsel has proven invaluable to me over the years— in my marriage, but also in every one of my most important relationships.

I have to remember it constantly.

Because when conflict arises—when the emotions rush in, I can easily feel that I’m on the receiving end of an assault, and that I have no other course but to fight back.

Interestingly enough, that’s precisely what’s often taking place, although not in the ways that in those moments I (and we) may think.

When we feel attacked—assaulted, there is often someone intentionally behind the assault.

There is someone trying to destroy all that is good and true—our hearts, our loving relationships—everything that truly matters in life.