Sunday Meditation

“My father’s servants live better than this. I will go back home and beg to be one of his.” — The Prodigal Son

I took the riches that were rightfully mine and headed down life’s road. Leaving my father and home life behind, striking out on my own. Spending my riches from place to place, like a man who looks into a mirror and forgets his face.

Soon all of my riches were gone, and, this, my friends realized. Then my friends and their friendships passed on, much to my surprise. I was left to beg, a lowly man, caught up in confusion, without a plan.

Bits of life, floating by in the world, I chanced to find, but in such filth, there is never a pearl, and memories came to mind:

“My father’s servants live better than this. I will go back home and beg to be one of his.”

As I walked and came into his sight, he embraced me and cried. To brother’s scorn, he spoke, “Your dead brother’s alive!”

Oh what joy filled my soul. Once I was lost, now I’m whole . . .

And I’m home.