Hear the Call, Come Home

7:30 AM




We had driven this stretch of road countless times.  I don’t recall the reason we were coming over the bridge, just the emotion seeping through my heart.  This time in the privacy of the car, little ones napping, just my husband and I, and I said out loud what I truly felt on the inside.  I am not one to outwardly share raw emotion with others.  I am the strong one.

This time however, raw they were, and real as the heart beating in my chest.  “I MISS HIM.”  Without question, he knew.  While the physical road we traveled was not foreign nor was the emotional road I had allowed my heart to travel upon.  I had not seen him in nearly two years.  I rarely hear his voice. 



I fear.  Yes I said it, FEAR.  He is far from home, and not just home here with our family, I fear his heavenly home.  I cannot stop the tears.  I don’t understand, his choices.  Confusing, and enraging.  WHY. WHY can’t he just come home?  Doesn’t he know we love him, want him, and desperately and eagerly wait for his arrival, his calls.  THEY don’t come. 



I often wonder how the father felt in the story of the prodigal son.  I feel as though with each passing day, my heart grows weary, and the tears becoming more frequent, I am loosing hope.  YES.  The girl who writes about HOPE, and being steadfast.  I cry, COME HOME.  Yet to my demise, no reply.  I make phone calls with ringing on the other end as my heart gives way with each call ended without a voice of HI. 

I must die.  Die to the unknown.  The fear. The doubt.  The anger.  The confusion.  I must find resurrection through the ONE who holds life.  My life, his life, your life.  I must take hold of my flesh, raw emotion, and feelings tried and true, and crucify them that I might find life.  I must throw off worry, and the sin that so easily entangles me, and TRUST. 

Cling to what is good, abhor what is evil, even my own selfish thoughts.  Hold tight to the promises.  Though I may not be able to call him home physically, I will awake with each new day filled with mercies anew and call to heaven.  Even though the wayward one doesn’t answer my calls, HE will answer me.  His ear is not to dull, and HIS arm is not to short.  HE will come, HE will call, and HE with loving-kindness will bring him safely home. 

So I will bow my head and rely on the promise I have, and I will hold to HIS promise, HIS voice, and I will clothe myself with dignity and strength, laugh at the days ahead, and eagerly await his HOMECOMING.  The wayward son, my brother will hear his name being called by the MOST HIGH and he will answer, he will not deny.


 That is why I can smile while I cry.  There is strength behind the veil, strength behind the wailing, tearing the veil with His cry, “It is finished”.  I will cry, “Author, and Perfector of our Faith, Alpha, Omega, You will finish what you start and he will be yours, running after your heart.  No longer running away but running his race each day.  I will glory in Your name, I will praise You in the rain, yes I will say with each new day, “he is yours, have Your way.”

Photo Attribution: All photos taken by Katie Kowalski


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10 comments

  1. Beautiful. I have two adult prodigal sons. I know your pain. Your hope. Your angst. And, we must cling to His promises; they will return to their 'borders', and God finishes what He begins. Let's anchor our hope on THAT. xo

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    Replies
    1. Yes they will return, and what a day of celebration that will be! Praying for you and your sons!

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  2. Such a powerful post. Sending healing thoughts your way.

    Amanda
    http://queenofthelandoftwigsnberries.wordpress.com

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    1. Thank you Amanda, I spoke with him today, and he sounded upbeat. :) Some progress.

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  3. Beautiful. I've always like that story yet so hard to read and hear when we have a prodigal son in our own lives. I pray that your brother will come home. May you continue to trust in this one who holds your life, his life, my life etc.

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    1. Yes, this is a hard story especially when it hits so close to home, but I love that with the hard it brings HOPE and an unexpected return! Praying for your son and family!

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    2. Laura, oops, sorry if I confused you. I don't have a son. I meant prodigal son in the sense of someone or something not literal. Guess I should proof more closely next time. :p

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  4. My heart broke with you as I read your words. It can be so tough to choose to have hope in dark hours, but that's the best choice to make, and it will have an effect on your brother. Praying for you!

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    1. Thank you, yes some days are harder than others, but His hope remains and it strengthens my heart. Thank you for praying for me and my brother.

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