The Prodigal

In the Gospel of Luke, 15th chapter, Jesus tells the wonderful story of the prodigal. We usually related that title to the son who wasted his inheritance, I, and others, realte prodigal to the father, who was lavish in his love. Jesus uses the story to explain God's unbounding love toward his wayward children who return. It is a wonderfully helpful and hopeful story.

As you read the story, do you notice how passive in his relationship with his sons the father is? The younger son demands his inheritance, before the father dies, and receives it! The younger son takes his inheritance (acquiring that must have lowered the value of the olders son's future inheritance) and without so much as a by your leave goes to a far country. The father is a non issue. What we hear of the father is that he stands at the gate and watches, hoping for his sons return. No servants chasing after him, the son has complete freedom. Then the son comes to his senses and returns home. Apparently he doesn't ever ask if it is OK. Now the father is galvanized into action, he throws a party, risking losing his older son in the process. So I ask, who is the prodigal? And the answer is God.

So many times as I have read this story I have said, "well I would have," let me tell you that's dangerous.

Sometimes love has to be passive. Simetimes action simply makes a bad situation worse. I guess the key is to know "when to hold them and when to fold them." My oldest daughter left the family over 20 years ago. She got married and slowly, sometimes quickly, "divorced" the rest of the fmaily. Actions have simply made the situation worse. Birthday cards, or Christmas cards or Anniversary cards have been met with red letter postcards. Sometimes those cards come when we haaven't been active at all. Crys to the Bishop or attempts to visit have ended in angry accusations. And now visits are forbidden unless certain specifics have been met first. And, I am told, that it is my pride and hatred for her spouse that keeps us apart.

My sanity is kept because I have six other wonderful children and 5 other sons and daughters in law who treat us as inlaws should be treated, we are loved as the parents of their spouse. We try not to intervene in their lives, we try to love our grandchildren and we try to walk that line between parent and friend and whatever else is required. Ours is an acceptance of who they are as adults.

But with my oldest, this one who was instrumental in the adoption of her youngest brother, I doubt she would know him if he passed her on the street; with her I simply stand at the gate and wait. I guess I'm tired. So much life in this family has passed her by. So many joys. And we have missed so much of her. She's good at what she does -

Let me go back to the story of the prodigal. In some small way I know the father's heart. He loves his sons, both of them. But his heart is so broken over his loss of the one that he has an emptiness that can not be shared. Sometimes he cries in the night. And always he worries that his other son will mistake his love for the lost one as a lack of love for him. That could not be further from the truth. And so he waits.

And so I wait. One of my dearest friends has no hesitation in "setting her married children straight," I can't take that risk and so all of us are denied. Someitmes in my waiting I become angry, but when I share that with my other children I build a ravine between them and their sister. That's deep enough already; they don't me adding to it. And so I wait. My Alice and I seldom mention her anymore. When we do I get teary eyed and she gets strongly silent. And so I wait, mostly alone with my thoughts and heart.

Well the younger son came home, and there was a party and I guess they lived happily ever after. I wonder if my love is that strong? I guess I pray that I and the rest of the family will be ready to celebrate and give her freedom if she ever comes back. Until then I find myself in the role of the father. It's not comfortable, it affects almost everything I do. If possible, it makes me love my children even more.

And I do love them. I have been painfully taught the fragilenss of relationships. I have learned that family works by the grace of God; that divorce happens in the best of relationships. Most importantly, I have experienced love from the rest of my family that brings wholeness and health. My children are wonderful.

Still, I wait.