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With the background of the squealing sounds of swine, the lullaby they provided began to rock the young man to sleep in his makeshift bed. Opening his eyes one last time, near these filthy creatures, thoughts of home came flooding in. Smiling to himself his face now took upon the appearance of peace and joy. Not even those eyes swollen from the evening of weeping could mask the beauty of the decision that had been made. Tomorrow, he would travel back. Tomorrow he was going home, and in this moment the passage was already begun.
Anxiously he arose early in continuance of his journey from the night before. Symbolizing his resolve he left behind what little possessions he had accumulated from his prodigal ways. Walking along the road memories of the past months began to haunt him as he remembered his transgressions and sin. Above all he recalled his father, his loving father. He captured and held tightly his father’s gentle face, the warm smile when he entered his father’s room that evening. And that painful expression in response to his son’s announcement that he would be leaving the following day would always be part of this young man’s regrets. Once again the tears streamed from his eyes like the bursting of a pent-up dam. He wept like a baby as he mouthed over and over again, “I’m sorry, father, I’m sorry.”
Composing himself once more the trek home continued. Drawing closer and closer to the days of his innocence he began to envision in his mind how the homecoming would go. How would his father respond? Would his father be receptive or would he be cold? Or would he, worst of all, choose to ignore his coming? Nevertheless, the young man continued knowing that to be amongst loved ones and not welcome would be less painful than what his heart was now suffering. He also began to practice what words he would express at this reunion, “Father, you were right. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. I wasn’t prepared. I was foolish. Will you please take me back?”
His journey almost complete, he began to recognize familiar landmarks, the tree he climbed as a boy, and the rocks that were his make-believe fortress all seemed to welcome him back. Taking the final bend in the road he saw in the distance, for the first time, his home. His pace began to quicken and seemed to keep time with his heart. Suddenly, from afar, he saw a figure fast approaching him. The person was running in his direction. Shocked by this turn of events and recognizing the advancing man the exhausted traveler stopped as they faced each other. Overwhelmed and awed by his father’s rushing to meet him the young man fell to his knees, bowed his head in disgrace, and began to sob out his plea for forgiveness. But before any words could be voiced the young man felt the strong, tender embrace of his father surround him as he heard the words, “My son, my son, Welcome home.”
He had arrived at his destination. He had traveled back on the road to acceptance; the road of acceptance that led straight back to his father’s heart.
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