THE PRODIGAL SON

"Dad! Dad! Daadd! Where are you going?" Gray called. He looked up to the sky, closed his eyes, changed his focus to the green grass beneath his feet, and shook his head. "Dad, where are you going? There's work to be done."

"Son, I've been up since before it was day. You were still snoring the siding off the house!" His Dad laughed heartily. "Ho, ho, ho! No, son, don't be getting after me. I've been at it for seven hours--five until now. Just let me be."

"Well, I'm taking the Hummer and going to the warehouse. The new shipment is entirely goofed up. I wish you'd go do something, well, something worthwhile. I'll see you later."

Dad ambled across the finely manicured lawn, from a pleasing few moments admiring the roses to his wicker rocker on the wrap around porch. The chair immediately began to rock back and forth like it was familiar with the event. Back and forth. Back and forth. How he loved this place! Acres of rich green grass for as far as the eye could see. Mountains in the distance. Outbuildings filled with precious treasures. Filled with everything needed for the hard days ahead. Food for winter. 

A long trail led away from the house, winding, winding, winding toward, first the river, then the distant mountains, never out of sight. Beyond the mountains, the city. He loved sitting where he could see as much as he could see--and as far. He watched the Hummer leave the west entrance and turn, soon out of sight.

Dad began to hum. It was part of the ritual. He hummed an old party tune; but he knew the new words. "Come home, come home, ye who are weary, come home." Now, as usual, he broke into the words, singing softly. "Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling, calling, oh, sinner, come home.'" Tears, as was the case for more than two years now, trickled over the wrinkles on his weary face.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Creak, groan, went the boards beneath him. Creak, groan.

It was time to pray. As usual. "Great God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, it's me again. Do you ever get tired of me? All morning--fixing that wonderful bacon and those fresh eggs this morning...mmmm...working out in the barn...stretched out under that car, fixing that old muffler...cleaning the gutters...watching the sunrise (and let me say, it was extra nice this morning!)--anyway, all morning, I kept imploring. And now, here I am again, where, as you are well aware by now, I am every day at this time, and here I am, imploring again. You know my heart. Two requests. Bring my son home again, and may some day he and Gray learn to love each other...you know, be friends. That's all. Well, of course, there's more, and I'll get those tonight before I climb into bed."

Time passed. Dad could see that the sun was low in the western sky. He stopped rocking, leaning forward, straining to see as far as he could see. Was that the figure of a person? No, not this time. But he would come. What is two years of waiting and praying?

Back and forth. The rocking chair began to move again. Back and forth. Creak, groan.

But wait. Dad stopped again. He stood, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Why, that does look much like a person walking." Down the steps he went, slowly, never taking his eyes from a pinpoint spot on the yonder road. Like every day for two years, he walked with overflowing hope toward the white gate. He squinted and shielded his eyes again. Then, just as though the setting sun decided to send a ray of light to fall precisely upon the human form walking toward the house, Garth's features could be seen clearly. It was Garth!

The gate was flung open. Dad ran. He had always been quick. Of course. Track had been his thing in college. Tired or not, he ran as only a father can run, never taking his eyes from his son. Garth saw him and after a moment of hesitating, an expression on this face baring a hundred different emotions, picked up his pace. He was still a long way away from the house. Could his dad been actually watching for him? And...and...was he really running to him with his arms open?

He began to run. Oh, the hug when they met! Dad began to dance, prancing around his son.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I thought all the way here--and it has been a long journey--how I could ever make you believe that I really am sorry. I'll work, Dad. I don't need anything. Just a place to be...called home. I'm sorry, Dad."

They walked, Dad with his arm around his son's shoulders.

"Dad," Garth said turning to his dad with unbelief on his face. "I want to say, 'What a coincidence that you saw me coming,' but something tells me that this is not the case at all. Were you watching for me?"

"Watching. Waiting. Praying."

Down in the depths of his soul, Garth breathed a sigh of praise. Dad hadn't changed. Still loving. Still praying. Still believing. Still patient.

"Great God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob," Dad prayed silently, his arm still around his son and his hand cupped over Garth's shoulder, "praise be to You! You have answered my prayer. You are faithful."

The Hummer approached, leaving a trail of dust above the gravel road. Gray turned into the west entrance, his face turned toward where his dad was standing with another person. He squinted through the dust. It was his brother. He turned off the car and put his head against the steering wheel. There he sat for long moments. Dad and Garth made their way to where Gray had parked.

"Gray! Gray! Look! Garth has come home. He has come home for good!"

Gray opened the door, climbed from the beautiful vehicle, slammed the door and walked past them. "And this, Dad, makes you happy, eh?" He shook his head. "Naughty, naughty Garth. You've been wicked, yet you're treated like a king."

"Great God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, You have answered Request No. 1." Dad looked toward heaven. "One to go."

KEEP PRAYING. KEEP WAITING. KEEP WATCHING.