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One of the most tender and beautiful scenes that would occasionally unfold in the MacMurray house was the calm, quiet peace that would come over one of the children when they were done trying to get their way. Cassy would get up off the floor and walk over to where her dad was and hold out her arms, her face still pouting. Then John would sit down on the couch and hold her and rock her in his arms. If John had scolded Chris about something and sent him to his room, Chris would come out later and walk over to John while he was sitting on the couch and climb into his arms, burying his head in John’s neck. Sometimes it was as if the kids were saying they were sorry, not yet old enough to know how to express themselves with words. But at other times, and perhaps more tender times, the kids were still frustrated, still confused about why they couldn’t get what they wanted or why they seemed to always be getting into trouble; and the embrace, the coming to John and burying themselves in his arms, was more about feeling his love in the confusion, in the difficulty, than it was about having moved past it. It was as if they were asking if he still loved them, if the discipline meant there was anything lost in their much-needed relationship with their father. There wasn’t. Discipline is what a father does because he loves.
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