I'm not going to print out this entire section here--it's too long for this short blog. This is about what's commonly called the Prodigal Son. Most of you have heard the story. One of a man's two sons demands his inheritance (what he would get when his father died) while his father is still alive. The father gives him all that he asked for, and the boy promptly goes into another country and spends every last cent on wine, women, and song. Before long, he's a pig slopper (the lowest of the low jobs in those times) and wishing he could even eat what the pigs got to eat. He comes to his senses and returns home.
Obviously that father is a better parent than I was, because he welcomes the boy home with open arms, kills the fatted calf, and throws a party for him.
Now, me? I would have been hugely relieved, hugged the lost kid, and then proceeded to yell at him for being late. Just ask my kids, they'll tell you.
But God is like that father. No matter how far or how long you stray, He waits, staring out the window, hoping you'll be okay, hoping you'll come back, listening for your footsteps. Then when you do come back to Him, He reacts like that father. The Bible says even the angels start cheering when you return.
Oh, and by the way? Same thing with daughters.
Prayer: Father, open my ears that I might always hear Your call. Open my eyes that I might see all You have done for me. Open my heart that I might understand Your heart. Amen.