Come Home

It was one of the most heartbreaking moments I had ever known.

Our older son, aged six, had decided that he wanted to run away. Embracing the “Let him do it” attitude, I went with him to pack his things. “I’ll take this,” he said. “Nope,” I said, “you didn’t buy that with your money.” “Well, how about this?” he asked. “Yep, you can take that because it was given to you,” I said.

When he finished packing, he had a pair of rollerblades, a stuffed animal, and some clothes.

I certainly wasn’t going to make running away easy!

We discussed where he could go. My desperate mind was racing as I came up with a plan. “Wait ‘til Daddy gets home,” I said. “He can drop you at the grocery store. That will be a great place to find someone to give you a ride to wherever you want.”

(Now please, before you start composing an email, keep reading.)

So, my husband came home. On the verge of tears, I told him of our son’s plan to leave and of the plan to drop him at the grocery store. With his little rollerblade bag in hand, my boy gave me a hug and kiss (I may have hugged a little tightly). I told him how much I loved him. Then, sweet and determined, he climbed into the truck with his daddy, and they drove down the driveway.

To say that I was devastated would be the biggest understatement of the decade.

Even worse than my feelings of mom failure were the reactions of my younger son—screaming, crying, begging his brother not to go, begging me to not let him go, trying to run after the car. Inconsolable. Heartbroken. Terrified.

Yes, I know you want to know how this ended. And I’ll tell you.

Looking back on that day, I am reminded of the many emotions involved.

• Mine: Pure disbelief (You want to leave here? Look at your life, kid!), anger (Well, if you don’t like it here, I’ll help you pack!), complete sadness (You actually don’t want to live with us anymore?), determination (I’ll help you see that here is where you actually want to be).
• My older son: Extreme defiance (I don’t need you), willful resolve (Goodbye! Sniff, sniff!).
• My younger son: Utter disbelief (You’re letting him go?), stunned disbelief (You want to leave?), uncontrolled disbelief (Please make him stop!).

One situation with many responses to which we can all relate.

The years since have helped me see the similarity between this event in our family and the one outlined in Luke 15. Verses 11-32 recount the story of the prodigal son. In summary, one of two sons decided to take his inheritance and move away. Dad gave it to him, and the son squandered it. After having to hire himself out to a local pig farmer, the son realized he had made a huge mistake. He decided to go home. On the way, he practiced an apology to his dad. But Dad didn’t need that apology; when Dad saw him coming from far off, Dad ran to greet him with open arms. The son offered words of sorrow—Dad offered sheer joy at his return. A celebration followed; complete with the best robe, a ring, sandals, and killing the fatted calf. Dad realized that his son had been “dead and lost,” but was now “alive and found.”

The other son, however, didn’t see the need for a celebration—in fact, he couldn’t believe his dad was so overjoyed. That brother pointed out that he had never been the focus of a celebration, even though he had been obedient. Dad quickly shut him down by telling him that he had always been with Dad and all Dad had was his. They needed to celebrate because his brother had come back to life—had been lost, but was now found.

Relating this biblical account to my own life has truly brought Scripture alive. I, like my son, have wanted to run away from my reality. Through blatant choices, misguided thoughts, and arrogant beliefs, I at one time concluded that my life would be better apart from Christ. Away I went, just like my son, to a “better” place. But that better place wasn’t better. Just as my six-year-old son realized that a parking lot at a grocery store wasn’t the place to be, I found that putting distance between me and God didn’t solve my problems. I turned around and headed back to the wide-open arms of my Daddy God. Likewise, my son realized he didn’t want to leave home; he discovered home was the safest and best place.

When my husband returned only minutes after departing (our son never got out of the truck), the joy in the house was phenomenal! My younger son was so happy. He could hardly wait for the truck to stop moving. When he received the all-clear from his dad, we ran out to greet his brother. Sheepishly, our older son climbed out of the truck, his expression one of joy mixed with sadness and regret. He was met with hugs, kisses, and shouts of happiness—not at all what he expected! Our son had left, only to realize that the best place for him was the very place he tried to leave.  Like the prodigal son, and like me, our boy found acceptance in the arms of those who loved him.

The running away didn’t matter; only the return home was remembered.

My friend, when we think we need to leave or think we can’t possibly return, the arms of our Savior remain wide open. He waits. He watches. All we have to do is come home.

Anita Fessler is a wife, mom, Bible study teacher, blogger, cook, who loves spending time with her family. She and her husband have two grown sons who come home to the farm in North Carolina often, bringing their special sweetheart girls with them. You can find Anita outside enjoying God’s creation alongside her man, or in the kitchen whipping up something delicious to eat! Speaking and writing are her favorite ways to minister, and you can follow her at https://anitafessler.wordpress.com/ or on social media at https://www.facebook.com/beverywellfed.

Photograph © Ashwini Chaudhary, used with permission