For the Love of a Home Office


I was at my parents' house yesterday and they have a very nice breakfast nook off the kitchen where they eat all of their meals.  They also have a dining room, which dad turned into his home office.  My dad will be 86 years old next month and he has an office the size of Texas! My dad has never worked from home, nor does he paint, draw or write.  But my dad is somewhat of a techie and he's organized and therefore, he needs this office!  It's just a thing--and I get it! When I was about thirteen, dad decided I needed a desk for my room.  This desk was one-fourth the size of my bedroom, but oh how I loved that desk!  I don't even remember needing or wanting a desk at that point, but it forever changed my life.  Yes, it did.  On my desk, I had a lamp with a cheerleader base (I was never a cheerleader), a cassette tape recorder with a built-in radio, a stapler and an empty juice can full of pencils and markers. Glorious!  Inside the top drawer were more pencils, markers, a ruler, a protractor, paper clips and scissors.  In one drawer, I kept Tiger Beat and Teen Beat magazines.  Back in those days, teen magazines weren't trying to make us into worldly 25-year-olds. I did my homework every night at that desk, sat and talked to my friends on my corded phone, and wrote letters for snail mail.  Once I had my first job, I balanced my checkbook on that desk. I could've done all of this from our kitchen table but there was something warm and settling about orchestrating my life from my own desk--with my own stapler.  Surely, this set me up for having a desk for the rest of my life.  College.  Teaching.  Everything. My home office is necessary.  It's my place to organize, decorate, file, plan, create, read and pray.  It is a place where I get to be with my books, my pencils, pens and stapler.  I take my coffee there and settle in first thing in the morning and hang out with God.  Yes, it's also a sacred place.


The recliner in my office--it's for my husband, who I allow to visit me from time to time--if he's quiet.  He knows it's my office.  He's cool with it--I think.


These days, I write.  If not for a mass audience, at least for my boys and their families who will someday long to hear something from their momma and NayNay.  So much has already been written in journal after journal tucked away, in my office--my happy place. Thanks, dad!

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