Today my heart is inclined toward the father of the prodigal son ...

       as I've listened to this story all my life, I always relate to the character who's life most closely mimics my current circumstance. I guess it's the storyteller in me that jumps into the events and proceeds to interject the details.

As I wrap my coffee cup in my hands this morning and stare into the fog and pray ... I feel that longing he must have felt ... every morning I wake praying that today will be the day. My perception that he's wandered isn't popular ... some call it my problem, some say it's to be expected, others go so far as to say it's my fault ... the reality is ...

my son is missing.

Not that I don't know where he is ... but he's currently chosen another path.

I can't know what's going on in his heart today because I'm not privy to that in this season. But I do find myself pondering this father, who many years ago waited on his son's return.

Did he walk everyday to the edge of the property, lingering among the well-worn path praying? How long did he stand there? One cup of coffee? Long enough to finish his morning prayers ... hours ... waiting for the time when he would go check the livestock, the fields, the servants ... or maybe, like me, his heart waits for it's next beat to remind him to go through the motions of everyday and time was no longer measured in minutes hours days months or even tears ... but rather in then ... now ... and when ...

I have to guard myself from living too many moments in the then or I become angry and bitter ... mourning what I miss so desperately. Conversations about Jesus and His great love for us, sharing what the Word said and how it intersected with the day.

Likewise ... the when of his return is known only to our Heavenly Father ... and there are  others in my life that the Lord has called me to ... my husband, my relationship with Him, my aging parents and a few dear friends. I can find myself picturing the moment of his return so vividly that I forget time ... and simply get lost in the comfort of the "when"!

Now proves to be the battleground though ... the place I stand watching, anxiously awaiting without the story unfolding ... holding onto yesterday just tightly enough that I am tethered to that sweet boy, but not so tightly that I drag him back with ropes of guilt or shame ... the place I stand small but firmly planted watching for the first moment when I will see his head peak the horizon because you can bet that I won't be standing waiting for him to walk to whole distance alone ... this place where I've kept life going, provisions in place to have a welcome home when his heart returns to his first love ...

now is the place where I keep my eyes fixed on Jesus so I don't miss the arrival of WHEN ...

There's a callousness that threatens my soul as this reality moves into a second year ... it's softened each time I am reminded of how blessed I am to be a mom, what a tough assignment this is ... how important is this calling.