I recently discovered that after years of thinking it was something to do with viniculture, my surname apparently has the origin “friend of God”. I am happy to be thought of as a friend of God, but frankly it’s not the first description of myself that comes to mind. To be honest I’m not a friendly person by nature, although that said I’ve never met any deities face to face so I may be doing myself a disservice there. It’s possible that given the opportunity I might indeed be a friend of God. I’d be glad to walk a round of pitch and putt with him and see how we got along. I imagine he’d beat me (that whole omnipotence thing) but I expect we’d still have a good chat.
It’s a long story but there was a time when I quite relished the prospect of finishing off my surname in my little branch of the family, having as I do two sisters and planning to sire no children. Ironic then that thanks to me there are now five more “friends of God” in the world, all of whom at this point are also actual friends of God rather than just masquerading under the name like I do. Three of them are boys, so by the time I shuffle off there could be dozens of us.
I hope God is watching.
