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!”
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!
