So I was doing well academically, and I was a well-ranked tennis player and was the apple of my handsome father's eye-and then I would bring home a report card with a B-plus on it, and my parents would look at the report card as if I'd flunked. "Uh, honey?" one of them would ask, looking perplexed. "Now, this isn't a criticism but, if you could get a B-plus in philosophy, how much harder would it have been to get an A-minus?"

I accidentally forgot to graduate from college.

I worry that Jesus drinks himself to sleep when he hears me talk like this.

I just try to love and serve everyone, and bring everyone water, and lend an ear; that's what Jesus said to do.

...one of the worst things about being a parent, for me, is the self-discovery, the being face to face with one's secret insanity and brokenness and rage.

These are pictures of the people in my family where we look like the most awkward and desperate folk you ever saw, poster children for the human condition.

A big heart is both a clunky and a delicate thing; it doesn't protect itself and it doesn't hide. It stands out, like a baby's fontanel, where you can see the soul pulse through.