“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” My father’s forehead is glistening in sweat as he preaches to the packed church. You can hear every time someone shifts in their seat or clears their throat because everyone is watching him with such interest. Even Colt and Madison have their eyes glued to Dad, and if you can keep a toddler interested in a church service then that’s saying something.

My father is always at his best when he’s preaching. The passion in his sermons is electrifying. I remember being a few years older than Madison and sitting up near the front in my fancy Sunday dresses, hanging on his every word. Even as a small child, I knew my father had a unique gift to be able to hold people’s attention like he does.

“Now let’s think about that for a minute,” he continues. “I want you to think of your own kids now. Close your eyes and bring up their beautiful faces in your mind. Not the way they are now, not the faces of your grown kids rolling their eyes at you, or your teenage kids slamming the door on your house. Nah, push those smarmy faces outta your mind for a minute. Those ones will still be there when you open your eyes back up.” A dull sound of approval and laughter rolls through the pews and I can’t help but smile even though I’m sure the smarmy face in his mind is mine.

“I want you to think of when your kids were young, think back to when they were just learning to ride a bike. You remember those days, don’t ya? Maybe you were pushing Junior up and down the sidewalk in front of your apartment block, or maybe your kid was lucky enough to learn in a backyard on some nice, soft grass.”

I look around the church and watch as women in beautiful hats and men in sweat-stained dress shirts sit with their eyes closed and smiles plastered to their faces.

“Think about how panicked they were, looking behind them every minute to make sure you were still hanging on to their seats. How they’d look at you with their big eyes and tell you not to let go. But you had to, didn’t you?”

The room fills with mumbles of approval.

“You had to let go or they’d never learn to ride that bike. And you knew, you knew in your heart that after you let go of that seat your kid would fall. You knew they would get hurt. You knew they would scrape their knees and they would cry. So you gripped onto that seat with all your worth, but you knew that sooner or later you’d let go. You had to. Because you loved them. And after they realized you weren’t hanging on anymore, what did they do?”

“Fell down,” a few members answer.

“What happened when you let go?” my father repeats louder.

“They fell down!” More voices answer from the pews.

I remember how my father pushed me on my bright red hand-me-down bike in an empty parking lot by our apartment. I laughed and squealed when I realized I was pedaling the old bike on my own, about four seconds before I crashed into a chain-link fence and bawled my eyes out. My father brushed me off, made sure my arms and legs weren’t broken, and then got me back on the banana seat that was all sealed up with duct tape from years of use. By the end of the afternoon he had me riding that two-wheeler on my own without any help. I smile as I recall the pride that swelled in my chest as he cheered me on.

“That’s right, they fell.” Dad interrupts my thoughts. “Those knees bled and tears fell from their eyes and it hurt your heart to see it, didn’t it? You would’ve given anything to take that hurt away. To make it so they could learn without pain, without hardship, without sorrow. Yet, if you did that, if you took away the bruises and bumps, guess what? They would’ve never learned a thing. No, they wouldn’t. And so, God knew we were the same way. As His children, He needed to let us fall. He needed to let us sin. To cry. And to return to Him to be swept up in His arms and look to Him for comfort. So He sent us His only begotten Son to help us manage our pain, to help us learn from our mistakes, and to give us guidance after we’ve fallen.”

“Amen.” The word comes out of my mouth and it surprises me.

Colt looks over at me with an eyebrow arched, but he doesn’t say a word.

As the service comes to a close, I hold back with Colt and Madison in the pews and let the crowd shuffle from their seats before me. I watch as men line up to shake my father’s hand while my mother gathers with women to chatter in a circle. My stomach flips when the people begin to thin out and I know I can’t put this off anymore. I have to go talk to them.

Seeing my hesitation, Colt grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze, while holding Madison in his other arm. The heat of the room and long service have proven to be too much for her as she’s fallen asleep against his chest without a care in the world. I tug my long skirt nervously and take a lungful of air and press forward, clinging to Colt’s hand. My father watches as we approach, but he doesn’t smile. Then again, I’m not smiling either, so the feeling is mutual.

“Isabella, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Hi, Dad.”

My mother breaks free from the few stragglers still gossiping with her and rushes over to me, giving me a big hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. And who is this?” She nods at Colt, waiting for a formal introduction.

“Mom, Dad, this is Colt Grant. Colt, these are my folks.” I watch as Colt shakes my father’s hand.

“That was a powerful service, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

My mother smiles at him, but my father’s expression doesn’t change.

“And who is this little angel?” My mother coos, looking at Madison, who is still fast asleep on Colt’s shoulder.

“That’s Colt’s niece, Madison. His brother passed away and he’s raising her now,” I tell them bluntly.

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss, Colt,” Dad finally speaks. “I’m sure he’s looking down from above and watching over you.”

“Thank you, sir. I believe he is.” Colt swallows hard, as the emotion in his voice betrays him.

“You two are dating then?” My mother looks at Colt as she asks.

“Yes. Actually, I moved in with him a month ago. I thought it was about time you had a chance to meet him and Madison, so I was hoping we could all go out for lunch. Our treat.”

I avoid my father’s eyes burning a hole through me. I knew they wouldn’t approve of me moving into Colt’s apartment, but there’s so much more they’re not going to approve of, I thought I’d rip that one off like a Band-Aid.

“Oh my, well, that is a surprise.” My mother holds her hand to her chest like she might faint, and I start to reconsider why I ever bothered coming here. “It sounds like we all have a lot to talk about. I think going out to lunch sounds lovely, don’t you, John?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to my father, just how he likes it. “Come inside, Isabella.” He motions toward the church. “I have to close up in here before I can go anywhere. Besides, I don’t have much of an appetite, I’m afraid. If you’d like to talk to us, you can talk to us here.” He presses his lips together in a thin line, and I glance over at Colt.

Why did I come here?

Reluctantly, I follow my father through the large wooden doors back into the church with Colt and my mother on our heels.

Dad quickly makes his way to the front of the church and starts picking up papers from his pulpit. “So, Colt, what is that you do?” He doesn’t even bother to look at him when he talks.

“I’m the manager of the The Families of Fallen Heroes organization. We help families of soldiers lost in combat roles with, well, just about everything. From finding counsellors who can help them with the first steps of grieving to getting their kids into college. Years later, we try to honor the sacrifice their fallen hero made for our country by getting them through the tough and trying times.”

“That sounds like an effort the Lord surely smiles on,” my father answers. “And, are you a member of the Baptist Church, Colt?”

“Dad!” I interrupt. “You can’t ask people what religion they are.”

“Why not? There’s no harm in asking, is there, Colt?” My father stops pretending to be preoccupied with tidying up and looks straight at me. “I’m just trying to get to know the man you’ve shacked up with, Isabella. That is why you came for this little visit, isn’t it? I’m sorry it isn’t going the way you thought it would if we were all eating sandwiches.”

“With all due respect, sir—”

“Colt, with all due respect to you, this is between my daughter and me,” Dad cuts him off.

Something about being around my father turns me into an angry teenager all over again. He’s never accepted that I’m an adult who is capable of making my own choices.

“No, Dad, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I thought you might like to know that you and Mom are going to be grandparents. Isn’t that nice? I’m sorry I thought taking you out to lunch might be a pleasant way to share the good news.” Anger makes my words tremble in the air.

“You’re pregnant? Oh, that’s wonderful, isn’t it, John?” My mother gushes excitedly.

“You’ve never learned, have you? Just living your life in circles, making the same stupid mistakes over and over.” My father’s voice is low and devoid of emotion.

“John, hush. This is good news. I’m sorry, Colt. He isn’t normally like this. We should’ve gone out for lunch like you guys suggested. His blood sugar is probably getting low,” my mother starts pedaling her tired excuses for my father.

“Listen, I know this is a lot to absorb, but I love your daughter.” Colt puts his arm around me. “We’re really just extending a courtesy by telling you. We didn’t come here for a blessing.”

“I would hope not! You’re certainly not getting it from me.” My father clenches his fists and crinkles the sheets of his sermon.

“So much for a father’s love, huh, Dad? You’re such a hypocrite,” I spit my words at him, trying hard to keep my voice to a dull roar so I don’t wake Madison. “I can’t believe you stand up here every week and spout off about forgiveness and understanding, when you don’t live a word of it.”

“You should go now,” he answers through a clenched jaw, staring at his shoes.

“I expected as much. You kicked me out of your house the last time I got pregnant. Now you’re gonna kick me outta God’s house? I wish your congregation could see who you really are.”

I look over at Colt and his mouth is hanging open with surprise. This is the first time he’s heard about my first pregnancy. It isn’t the way I wanted to bring it up, but then again he’s the one who insisted we come here today, so I guess the cards will fall where they will.

“Only the Lord can make that decision, and I can only hope and pray you find your path before your time for judgment comes, Isabella. As much as you seem to think you can do whatever you like with no consequences, you’d better believe that when your time comes, you will be judged.” He looks me straight in the eyes, and I can’t find a glimmer of the man who once held my bike seat. The father who used to take pride in my smallest accomplishments can now only see my failures.

“That’s right, Dad, I’m going to be judged. But I’m not worried. You know why? ’Cause that book you love to quote has a lot of passages about how He will forgive all sinners, even hypocrites like you.” My voice trembles and I turn away before the tears spill over from my eyes.

I knew this was a mistake. I knew it!

Colt holds me close, with one arm around me and one arm around Madison, and we walk out of the church.

This is my family now. This is the only family I need.