My image of G-d has Him in a chair, more like a mix between a recliner and a throne. (It reminds me of the seat at the Lincoln Memorial in DC) He’s sitting back in it; His head resting on His hand. He’s leaning slightly to the right. His hand is on His face, but His index and middle finger are separated from the other ones. His other fingers are slightly curled on His cheek. His first two fingers are straight and on the side of His face near His temple.
He is watching something. Something that is amusing Him. He has endearment, kindness, patience, and love in His eyes. They’re soft and bright. No one has eyes like His. They change color, too. Right now they’re an unexplainable mix of greens and blues; like the horizon in the ocean after a storm while the sun bursts out of a break in the clouds.
He is wearing white robes that reach His ankles comfortably. He has no shoes. I can tell where His figure stops and starts but His essence fills the room. The feeling reminds me of warm cookies, haha: you can tell where they stop and start and you know that it is them that makes that delicious smell that fills the room and even though you can not see the aroma, it has just become part of the air around you.
His face is relaxed…as one Someone who hadn’t a care in the world. The skin is smooth as though Someone young but you can tell there is wisdom that seaps out of the pores like Someone who has lived for a long time. And yet, somehow, I can tell that the concept of ‘young’, ‘old’, and ‘time’ just doesn’t quite apply to this face. It is of Someone who looks young, has wisdom of old age, and yet will never die.
The mouth, His mouth, completes the image. It matches the amusement of His eyes. He is smiling, but not enough to show His teeth. The corners of His mouth are turned up – so as to show happiness. It’s not a full smile but it makes me think one is coming. He is grinning at something but His eyes are steady on what’s ahead of Him.
A girl is standing before Him. He is watching His little girl in amusement. She is talking excitingly to Him and moving as she speaks. Without sound, it would appear like she’s telling Him a story and is trying to act it out as she explains.
She uses the whole area she has. She goes from one part to another, bouncing and rolling when appropriate to the story and is always using expressive and excessive hand motions.
He is patient with her as she struggles to tell the story as accurately as her memory will allow. He think it’s funny how “into it” she gets. And how cute it is that she moves so much and talks so fast that she is out of breath sometimes and has to pause to catch it.
She is telling Him about her life on earth. She’s explaining all the exciting things she did for His name. She doesn’t understand that He alright knows exactly what she’s talking about. She doesn’t know that He was there with her for her entire life. Nor would she care; she’s so excited about her story and is so into it that He just says nothing and lets her keep telling it to Him. She keeps acting and He keeps listening. Even thought she isn’t aware of what He’s doing, she appreciates Him listening and loves that He’s so interested in what she has to say. This makes her feel loved and special.
She gets tired and states that she’ll explain the rest in a little while as she invites herself into His lap and leans her head against her Father’s chest.
He moves positions in order to allow her to sit on His lap. He drapes His arms around her little body and holds her firmly but gently. Her ear falls parallel to His heart and she can feel His heartbeat. She heard the sound thumping from within Him. She always loved that sound. It’s what helped her fall asleep when she was scared; it’s what calmed her down after a bad day; it’s what gave her company when she felt lonely. It was the sound of light in her dark times. It’s what distracted her from her tears and allowed her mind to move onto different things.
Oh how silly she was as a child, she thinks. She notices with only a hint of curiosity that she hadn’t felt those things in a long time. The thought seems unimportant to her now and it quickly dissolves as her mind wanders to other things: she loves her Father. He had always been there for her; always been her favorite.
The two remained there for a long time. The little daughter eventually falls asleep in her Father’s arms. And that, that was His favorite story.
