McKINNEY, Texas — After 26 years of marriage, Charles Batson says his wife means everything to him. He just wishes he knew how to tell her.
"We're always going in a million different directions, and when we talk, it's almost like a text message: Hey, I love you. Gotta go." That's not enough, he said. Not for the way he feels.
So Batson enrolled in a church workshop to learn how to write a love letter.
The course has become a surprise hit in scores of churches across the nation this fall, promoted by pastors who hope the old-fashioned letter can strengthen the frazzled modern family. Intent on writing not only to their wives, but also to their children and their parents, more than 5,000 men have joined support groups to help one another put their feelings to paper.
The groups — led by men trained at an evangelical church here in suburban Dallas — are springing up in California, South Carolina, Oregon and Alaska; in a rural parish in Little Axe, Okla., and a mega-church in Jacksonville, Fla.; in congregations of Quakers, Catholics, Seventh-day Adventists, Lutherans and Southern Baptists.
Participants get a list of recommended adjectives, sample letters to crib from, even a CD with a 60-minute tutorial on "The Lost Art of Letter Writing."
Still, many say the Letters From Dad program is the toughest challenge they have ever faced.
"This isn't something I do," said Steve Weller, 69, a retired software developer.
His two daughters are grown, with children of their own, but Weller never told them he loved them. Then he took on a mentoring role in his church; he felt he should push himself to open up.
Weller started with a letter to his oldest daughter. The tone was a bit distant, with praise for her "sensible, mature outlook" and her "focus and growth."
But he ended with this: "You are a daughter I am very proud of. I love you, Maria."
As he read them aloud, Maria's eyes misted; she put her hand on his knee. He reached out and rested his hand atop hers.
Weller described the moment to his writing support group at McKinney Fellowship Bible Church. The love-letter movement began with congregation member and veteran video producer Greg Vaughn, who thought the writing workshops could be his biggest market yet — and his most rewarding mission.
Vaughn, 57, found his inspiration while doing a chore.
Cleaning out the garage during the summer three years ago, he came across a rusted fishing tackle box belonging to his late father. He went to toss it out, then stopped, realizing that the tangled lures inside were all he had left of his dad.
Vaughn cursed his father for not leaving him anything more meaningful. Then he asked himself whether he had done better. If he died right then, what would he leave his four children and three stepchildren?
Vaughn had made a point of always telling his kids he loved them — something his own father had never been able to do. Vaughn had even written them sweet notes from time to time; his daughter Brooke cherished a "Love You" that he'd scrawled on the paper wrapped around a wire hanger.
But as he held the tackle box, Vaughn knew a hanger wasn't the legacy he wanted to leave. He resolved to give his children letters expressing his pride and his faith in them; his hopes for their future; his memories of joy they'd shared.
He didn't have the slightest idea how to go about it.
His first efforts were ready by Christmas 2002.
Dana Hansen was 15 that year and certain she had disappointed her father by quitting basketball to take up cheerleading. Under the tree, she found a mahogany box — and inside, a letter from her dad, Dirk Hansen, one of Vaughn's friends.
He wrote that he was proud of her for making her own choices. He told her he loved her even when he couldn't understand her.
"I didn't always know he felt that way," said Dana, now a freshman at Texas Tech University. Her dad has continued to write her, and she saves every note.
Sociologist W. Bradford Wilcox calls Letters From Dad an effort to "domesticate men in the pews."
With divorce rates steep — even among faithful churchgoers — religious leaders have long sought creative ways to engage men in family life.
Men's ministries at churches large and small offer regular seminars — or at least inspirational videos — on connecting with loved ones. "They realize . . . that men are often the weakest links in families," said Wilcox, who studies such programs at the University of Virginia.
There's always a good turnout for bowling night. "But when you get down to the soul stuff, men kind of sneak out on you," said Dave Fortuna, 55, a pastor in Shreveport, La.
Letters From Dad seems to be different. The course draws men of all backgrounds: carpenters, lawyers, oil-field workers, chefs, newlyweds and grandfathers, executives in business suits and guys in "Fear Factor" T-shirts. Vaughn says he's on pace to expand the program to 1,000 churches in the next 12 months.
In the meantime, he's still leading workshops at his home church in McKinney.