The Prodigal's Mother

Of the prodigal’s tale, we all are aware,
Stubborn, he wanted to manage his share;
So he took it and headed off into the sun,
Determined to have his share of fun.

We hear how he partied away all he had,
Rumors were flowing and all were bad;
The father kept watch as the months wore on,
Only love could rescue his wayward son.

We hear of his downfall, the ruins of sin,
We hear of the pigpen he found himself in;
We hear of the change that began in his heart,
How he thought of home and the servant’s part.

We hear of his journey and father’s delight
We hear sounds of joy as they ring in the night;
Brother’s envy and spite make our spirits groan,
But through it all – we’re glad he’s home.

But what of his mother? We never do hear,
Yet surely her presence was always near;
Her baby was lost – her precious son,
She must have wept and prayed, undone.

In dark, night hours, while others slept,
A tear-stained vigil his mother kept;
She groaned and travailed more deep than at birth,
For the wayward one’s soul had yet greater worth.

She waited and hoped in the promise of God,
Reminding, abiding, her faith walked dry-shod;
Through oceans of tears, through doubts and fear,
Come what may - though it took many a year.

And then, when the promise finally did arrive,
Imagine the sparkle of joy in her eye;
Hustling, bustling in a glorious dither,
The servants all rushing hither and thither.

Mama, in high gear, was doing her best,
Preparing a fabulous celebration fest;
All her boy’s favorite cookies and cake,
Were piled high and waiting for more to bake.

But right in the midst of the joyful preparation,
Mama steals off for a quiet conversation –
With the One who had shared her burden and grief,
“He’s home now, Lord, Oh, what blessed relief!”

By Marjorie Kinnee

Note: I took the liberty of adding a possibility to this age-old story in honor of Mothers Day and in tribute to mothers of wayward children. They carry a special burden, full of sorrow, travail and pleading intercession. But they partner with the One whose heart is touched and is able to work, even in the darkest of situations. What He's done for others - He'll do for you! "Now unto Him who is able to do exceeding, abundantly above all we can ask or think...", be all the glory and honor and power and dominion. In Jesus' Name!

The Blessings of the Lord!

"The blessings of the Lord

Are new every day;

He addeth no sorrow,

Only takes it a-way!"

I'm in Jacksonville, Florida over the Memorial Day holiday...

Visiting with my grandchildren is always a joy. Right now, there are two little girls hiding under blankets as I type. They're playing turtle. One tells me turtles have hard shells and the other says that the shell is like a house they carry around. They peak out from under their blankets and say "Hello!" every so often and crawl down the hall and back discussing turtledom in the most fanciful of ways. Their sweet little voices fade as they head into their room to play awhile.

When they weary of that, the blankets become royal robes and the princesses settle in for tea. Lillie and Skittles (the cats) get drawn into the play - but they do not linger long. It seems cats don't want to play royalty (maybe to a cat's mind, they're already royal enough).

One is away at school, the rest are on the road coming from Virginia and will be here later today; and in the midst of the preparations, I'm taking time to reflect on the blessings of grandchildren who love Jesus, who quote and sing Bible verses, and who make my heart sing with thanksgiving at the goodness and mercy of the Lord.

"The mercies of the Lord

are new every day;

He addeth no sorrow,

Only takes it a-way!"

Happy Thanksgiving!

Back in my grade school music class, I remember singing songs from the early days of this country. We rarely hear them nowadays. In fact, I'd venture to say many have never heard them. But I think they're worth remembering and have much to say to this generation. Perhaps you'd like to add them to your holiday reflections...

We Gather Together

We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing;
He chastens and hastens His will to make known;

The wicked oppressing - now cease from distressing,

His Name be ever praised - He forgets not His own.

Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,

Ordaining maintaining His Kingdom divine;

So from the beginning the fight we were winning;

Thou, Lord, wast at our side, All glory be Thine!

We all do extol Thee, our Leader triumphant,

And pray that Thou still our Defender wilt be;

Let Thy congregation escape tribulation,

Thy Name be ever praised, O Lord, make us free!

Come Ye Thankful People Come

Come ye thankful people come, raise the song of harvest home.

All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin;

God our Maker doth provide, for our wants to be supplied,

Come ye thankful people come, raise the song of harvest home.

All the world is God's own field, fruit as praise to God we yield,

Wheat and tares together sown, are to joy or sorrow grown;

First the blade and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear,

Lord of Harvest, grant that we, wholesome grain and pure may be.

For the Lord our God shall come, and shall take the harvest home,

From the field shall in that day, all offenses purge away;

Giving angels charge at last, in the fire the tares to cast,

But the fruitful ears to store - in the garner evermore.

Even so, Lord, quickly come, bring Thy final harvest home,

Gather Thou Thy people in, free from sorrow, free from sin;

There, forever purified, in Thy presence to abide,

Come, with all Thine angels, come, raise the glorious harvest home!

As I ponder on these words, I realize again that life does not consist in the abundance of the "things" we possess. All these perish with the using. We brought nothing with us and can take nothing with us when we leave. Often, the things we express our thanks for on Thanksgiving Day are the tangible things that soon lose their charm. No wonder Jim Elliott said, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."

Jesus said the real treasure is hidden - in earth and in earthen vessels. He wasn't talking about squirreling jewels away in dirt and pottery. The kind of earth He had in mind is man, who was made from the dust of the earth. Jesus' treasure is not stashed in a bank vault or flaunted as a prized possession. It can't be bought or sold on the stock exchange. No, the treasure Jesus recommends is laid up where moth and rust cannot corrupt and where thieves cannot break through and steal. It's the priceless knowledge that your name has been written in the Lamb's Book of Life. It's in knowing that He is able to keep what you have committed unto Him until the day of His appearing.

Set your affections on the only worthwhile treasure - a heart full of peace and joy - one that's prepared to seek and see God. That's a cause for true Thanksgiving!