Honestly, I am afraid of judgments. A poorly aimed judgment can bring us all sorts of grief.
From my personal annals, the following story will suffice to show the dangers of judgments. I hope it is instructive or at least cautionary (in the sense that a car accident or a crack addict is cautionary). When I was 8, my dad came home and confessed to my mom that he had blown an entire paycheck at the racetrack. My mother had apoplectic fits for days in a row. This was not the first time dad had gambled away the family’s food money (and rent money and going to the zoo money). But it was the first time that I really formed a major opinion of how I felt about it all.
Years later, I would recall exactly what I said in my heart about him: “When I grow up, I will never hurt my kids like that. I won’t be a jerk Read the rest of this entry ?