March 26, 2009
Due to a string of events that I don’t want to blog about, I am feeling worn out this week. I would like a vacation, all by myself. I’m trying to pray and get my attitude right and bend my will to serving my family with a cheerful heart, but I think the spiritual disciplines I need more than prayer right now are: silence and solitude.
So, I was caught by surprise last night. I took the older girls to our church for the Wednesday Night Clubs. On the way there and home, I popped in an old CD of Keith Green and cranked up the volume and regaled my skeptical children with funky old Keith Green hits. It felt good to be belting them out. On the way home, the song came on about the prodigal son. It is really long, and I asked the girls to listen quietly. (Phoebe grumbled about this, but Lucy was into it.)
What struck me (again!) was the shocking, extravagent love the Father showed his son. His rejoicing at the son’s return. His exuberance. I had to swallow the lump in my throat and blink the tears from my eyes. When I heard that story as a child, I thought that the point of it was: we should behave ourselves! Now I see it so much more as not a moral lesson to tell us what to do and what not to do, but as yet another astonishing glimpse of who God is, what He has done to win us back to Him, His mercy and goodness and grace. My actions may not look as “sinful” as that boy in the story, but my heart wanders far from my Father at times, and I defiantly want My Will to be done. And He still longs for my return and almost looks like a foolish, co-dependent lover as He draws me back in.
And now I must go wake up my children for the day. It’s late and the race to the finish line of “leaving for school” is going to be a tight race, indeed.