“When I think about my relationship with America, I feel like a battered wife: Yeah, he knocks me around a lot, but boy, he sure can dance.”

“You love it, don’t you? Admit it. I got you excited about football.” He was gloating as he did a little victory dance.You got me excited about something, that’s for sure.“I love it,” I said, grinning back at him. I poked him in the stomach while he danced around like an idiot, feeling his taught stomach beneath my fingers.”

“I tried to knock my wife up, but she’d only let me ring the doorbell. And she made me dress up like the pizza delivery boy while I rang.”

“When he smiles at me, I feel like I'm sitting under a heat lamp. I live for the times when his fingers brush my leg at lunch, or when we pass in the hallways and he raises his eyebrows at me, like we have a secret. I should feel bad--and I do, most of the time--but how can I stop thinking about him when seeing his face makes me feel so alive?”

“The pain of losing Deborah still brings tears. And I cannot mask my profound disappointment that God did not answer yes to our prayers for healing. I think He's okay with that. One of the phrases we evangelicals like to throw around is that Christianity is 'not a religion; it's a relationship.' I believe that, which is why I know that when my faith was shattered and raged against Him, He still accepted me. And even though I have penciled a black mark in His column, I can be honest about it. That's what a relationship is all about.”

“Would I like this boy?"I bit my lip to keep from smiling. "Yeah. I think so. He's nice.""So I imagine you'll need a dress?""Yeah, probably.""And I'll need a gun.""Dad!”