Writing a letter by Lior Filshteiner
My Dear Prodigal,
I remember a boy who was so eager to call me Mama, and who gave spontaneous hugs and kisses. You loved to eat any and all of my food, and made me feel like the best cook in the world. I remember your stubbornness, and hoped you would use it to change your world…but instead you’ve used it to change mine and so many others who love you. And our hearts ache because we miss you. The real you. The one who is strong for the weak and makes everyone feel safe.
I can’t help but wonder if I am somehow to blame for the change of direction you have made as of late. Was I too strict? Was I not strict enough? Did I show you the love and grace that is Jesus? Or was I a hypocrite?
The questions that plague my mind torment, and then I know that I am not abiding in love. Because there is no fear in love.
Then I start to figure out what I would do differently, if I had the chance. Would I affirm you more and correct you less? Would I discipline and guide you more gently?
I realize I am trying to rewrite the past, something that can never be done, no matter how hard I try. And I remember that I am to forget those things which are behind…
Next, I start to worry about the now and where you are and what you are doing. I stare at the glow of the digital alarm clock in my room and wonder who you are with at 1:30 a.m. and why you aren’t answering your phone or texts. But here the Comforter draws near and whispers that I am to be anxious for nothing.
You see, dear heart, you don’t belong to me, and you never have. Your Mama and Father gave you back to God. He has a plan for your future and He finishes what He has started.
And so, with this letter that I write to you that you may never see, I pray that you know one very important thing. I pray that you know that my arms are wide open and ready for your return…anytime you are ready…no matter what you’ve done. We’ll face it together.
Because His arms are ready too, you know. He awaits your return. He will be dancing and spinning and celebrating with the best of them. He misses you even more than I do. He paid a great price to know you and every day that you’re away seems like an eternity. So, make haste, my son. We’re waiting, Daddy, Jesus and I. We are fattening the calf and preparing the party. We are standing in the yard, shielding eyes from the sun, hoping to catch a glimpse of you coming over the horizon. The day can not come soon enough.
Arms always open,
This post was inspired by readers who suggested that I step into the empty nest by writing each of my children a letter. Seeing that this letter is to my wayward son, I was also inspired by Ann’s wonderful post on the Prodigal Parent.
Do you have a Prodigal in your family? Let’s pray together…
Joining Laura at the new Faith Filled Friday community…