My father is the broad-shouldered, strong, internal teddy bear type, with fingers like sausages. In my childhood, he was a Midwestern farmer.  In his spare time, he donates his mad skills to car repairs of missionaries, single moms, people like that. He’s that kind of guy.

And it’s common for him to come back into the house with blood zigzagging down his leg or seeping through his shirt. read more