Among My Father’s Papers
Years ago when I could not find a fatherly image to liken God to, I made one.
I gave him a sweater and a pair of slacks. A kind smile, an affable look about him, and an office with a desk full of papers and pens, knick knacks, forgettable paper weights, a shelf full of books, and most importantly a couch he would lean back into with his reading glasses slid up or taken off, eyes closed as he sat in deep thought.
This father’s world was just his office.