Writer Philip Yancey found an old photo of himself as a small child, which his mother kept amongst her treasured memories. It puzzled him why she kept that one when there were so many better pictures. She told him it was the one that his father had had fastened to the iron lung in which he’d spent the last months of his life. Lying there, paralysed by polio, with his son banned from the hospital, his only contact had been that photo hung directly before his eyes. Yancey says that photo is now the one link that connects him to the stranger who was his father; the man but who spent all day, every day thinking of him and loving him. And from that, he says, I have come to a deeper understanding of the love of God who, though I may not see and think of Him, never stops thinking of and loving me.