The tipping point has always fascinated me especially where it concerns relationships.

When you expect a rock and you get a shrub.
Red Rocks, Colorado.

In a Swedish film I eagerly and recently saw, called Force Majeure, a family of four gets away to the French Alps for some much needed time together. The good looking couple is searching for that lost connection so difficult to hold onto in a busy life. The kids are dying to see daddy in the daylight.

They are having a quiet meal on a terrace overlooking the Alps when an avalanche starts. The father tells his children with head of the house reassurance , that it is controlled, as he excitedly videotapes the phenomena.

It becomes apparent that the avalanche is headed straight for them- the mother grabs her frightened children and huddles them with all her strength and own body to protect them. The father, inadvertently, continues to film, while he runs like the devil to save himself.

They survive but it is felt that the marriage would not. She could not escape the image of him as self serving coward who had nothing, at the end of the day, with which to protect them.

Where does forgiveness end and the tipping point begin?