Fifteen years ago, my husband and I moved to Victoria. Before that, we lived in East Texas for twenty-one years. Life was busy as we raised our two children in Tyler, but when they graduated from high school and grew more self-sufficient, we desired to move closer to my parents as my dad was having health issues. We told our young adult children they were welcome to join us. Since Victoria wasn’t their hometown, we insisted they decide for themselves.
It proved to be a significant move for all of us. First, our son came. He completed college, met the woman of his dreams, and started his own business. Then our daughter joined us, attended nursing school, and met her soon-to-be spouse. They both married here in 2011, and grandchildren started coming.
After nine years, my daughter and her husband desired an adventure, so they moved to New Braunfels last year in the middle of the pandemic. As it turns out, it was the perfect relocation. The oil business, their bread and butter, had shut down and still isn’t up to speed. But our son-in-law cultivated a real estate business, his backup career, and they are now thriving. Visits are short but loads of fun these days, and my daughter and I regularly do our “Gonzales run,” where each of us drives an hour to exchange children.
Recently, our daughter came to town for our church’s yearly women’s conference. Her three little girls stayed home with daddy. All week long, my husband and I looked forward to her visit. We rarely get her all to ourselves these days.
Once the Friday night portion of the conference was over, she elected to go out with some girlfriends she doesn’t see very often.
I knew what her dad would do—wait up as long as he could for her to come home. She knows her way around our small city, so we weren’t worried about her safety.
The next morning my husband told me he’d had a restless night. He said, “I know she’s an adult, married, and takes care of her own family, but when she stays here, I go into Daddy-mode and can’t relax until she’s home.” Our dog barked when she arrived in the wee morning hours, and only then was he able to sleep.
He’s not the only daddy who waits for his children to come home. Jesus told a story about a son who demanded his inheritance share, then blew through it in record speed with profligate living. But his father longed for his estranged son to come home. When the money was all gone, the son finally came to his senses, made his way home, and “… while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion for him and ran and embraced him …”
Our heavenly Father longs for reconciliation with each of us. He loves and misses us every bit as much as an earthly parent.
A writing friend put it this way: “The shadows have rolled in, masking the brilliant sunset. As the colors fade and darkness fills the sky, a whisper fills our hearts. Hurry. Let’s run home. Father is waiting…”
Where are you today? Is your heart’s desire to be reunited with your Creator? His heart longs for you. He’s not mad at you or thinking of what you’ve done wrong. In his mind, Jesus has already taken care of that. Let that be in your mind too, as you run to the Father.