She came to my mind again today as she often does in the midst of my Saturday chores. Wipin’ out the microwave that her daddy, a very Handy Man, had installed, it always reminds me. Swipin’ away the smudges yet again and one more time, and there she was; her face, her name, her legs…
I thought, then, of her mama, of all the other mamas who feel the knife’s blade, strikin’ deep, drawin’ blood. A kid is runnin’ from Him.
Thinkin’ and cleanin’. Just thinkin’ and listenin’, and all at once Jesus said, “Tell them that they are not alone.” All the mamas.
In the past, I’ve written a whole lot about my own journey with a prodigal. I could talk to you again today about what and how God works with those kids, but right now? This word’s for the mothers.
“Tell them they’re not alone.”
It’s a very lonely path. I know. For a long time, I scarcely spoke of it. Couldn’t bear to. It’s such a hard, humiliating, stressful, terrifying, hair-raising, hellish journey, and every nerve ending’s on fire. It is, and it’s intensely personal and private.
However. As I started to find a bit of courage, scrapin’ it into a little basket and offerin’ it up with trembling, somethin’ happened. I began to see that there were faaarrrr more people goin’ through the same stuff than I’d ever, ever guessed.
Hurtin’ people. Imperfect people. Folks whose act was not labeled “Together.” People, ergo, just like me. Just like us.
“Tell them they’re not alone.”
There are some really good reasons to be careful in sharing your story. Some folks (I learned this) cannot handle it. Can’t be trusted. Then some (I have heard this) were targets for judging, stoned where they stood by rock throwers.
You have to be wise in the telling.
But. There is something vastly healing. Wonderfully relieving in the sharing of your burden with another, with someone else who is walkin’ it, too. A hope-rope for the teller and consoling for the hearer, for bein’ understood is a gift. Yes, it is.
Dear girl. You are not the first one to have a prodigal, and you surely will not be the last. Papa God’s had a whole lot of ’em, so He knows how you feel. And there’s a great, big sisterhood that knows, too.
You are welcome here with your fears and your failings. Don’t let silence become your dark prison. Ask Him to show you one person, even one, who can be trusted with your story, then allow her to help with the liftin’.
You are not alone, for Christ walks right ‘longside, and He (I do know this) has gifts. If you will say the “yes,” you can come through this with a much greater faith, with a heart full of compassion. With a whole lot less baggage and a whole lot more Jesus than you ever could have had without it…
Without your fast-runnin’ kid. I know, and God above is my witness.
With love from one, small mother to you,
P.S. – I have two really great ears and a heart that can pray. I invite you to whisper your story to me. You can message me using the “Contact Me” form here on the website, or you can email me at email@example.com. God bless you!