Call waiting…

I think I say this every week, but I can’t believe it is already Thursday.

Even saying that, parts of the week seemed to take forever to pass.

Like the fact that starting sometime Saturday night, one of our birds was off the radar due to a cell phone malfunction.

Not that we necessarily touch base every day with all of our adult children, but when we found out John’s phone would be out of commission until midweek, time began to look a bit like an hour glass and those granules of sand were slipping away at a snail’s pace.

Just knowing I couldn’t text him or call…made me realize how far away Texas really is.

And let me tell you…we do not want to go there for what that can do to a mom’s spirit.

I was near breaking point early Tuesday evening when my phone dinged, heralding a few pics of that boy and letting us know he was back on the grid.

We celebrated all day Wednesday with enough family-group-text-silliness that I am sure Russ had to put his phone on silent as he tried to conduct business in a professional manner.

We are connected again and, as I told John, I am praising God and doing my happy dance all at the same time.

Video exists proving this, but is highly restricted and prayerfully will never be hacked by the you-know-who’s or I will have to leave town.

It is highly exuberant and undignified, but I was so happy to be able to communicate with our son again that it seemed only fitting to capture it on film…and besides…anything to make the family laugh.

People, that’s what God is trying to show us in the story that is the basis for our new series Finding Your Way Back to God.

Sure it’s about a prodigal returning home and a brother that needs to get over his resentment and join the celebration.

But it’s also about a dad who whooped it up when his weary and worried eyes, that had scanned the horizon day after endless day, finally caught sight of that beloved silhouette of his boy coming across the distance…headed home.

And he ran…did a happy dance…praising God as chased the child down to embrace him.

He wouldn’t even let the kid finish the apology he had rehearsed.

Dad was too busy hugging him and calling out to the servants to fire up the grill…didn’t even bother cleaning the pig muck off his son before wrapping him up in the finest garment in the house.

It’s about a dad who left the party to go out and talk to his other son; who didn’t understand what all the fuss was about…just couldn’t comprehend grace and the blessing of having never left home. So the father came and invited him in to share in His JOY.

 

It’s about a father…

our Father…

who longs to hear from His children…

longs to wrap us in the finery He has been saving while we were slopping hogs…

longs to fill us with the richest of fare…

and welcome us home …

H.O.M.E.

Wherever precious feet have wandered, I pray as I type…

for a turning back…

a re-turning…

Homecoming….

coming Home.

Because our Father is all about that.

All the time

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