The Prodigal Son’s Mother.
The book of Luke Chapter 15, verses 11-32 tell of the well known Parable of the Lost Son.
A man had two sons. The younger one asked for his inheritance and moved far away, squandering all of his wealth with reckless living. Eventually, he came to his senses, returning home to his father asking for forgiveness, hoping for a place of employment within the household. While he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming, and ran to him. The father lavished compassion and love upon the son, and honored him with a welcome home party. The older brother who had remained at home, loyal and true to his family, became angry and resentful.
“…But when this son of yours who has squandered your property comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!”
The father responded, in verse 31, “My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”
This story gives hope to it’s readers. But, I have often wondered, “What about his mom? Where was she in all of this?”
Though the Biblical account never mentions a mother, I imagine she was just as much present and equally part of this son’s story. After all, there is a special bond between a mother and son. No matter how old, hairy, or naughty that boy becomes, when a mother looks deep into her boy’s eyes, she can still recall the little child he once was. His youthful, unblemished face is permanently ingrained in her mind. His feet may be size 11, he may have whiskers and weigh twice her size. But she can still remember the feeling of his soft, chubby little body on her hip, clinging tightly to her arm or shirt.
It must have been excruciating watching him leave, especially in such a defiant and rebellious way. I have a feeling this wasn’t a surprise to her. Moms have a unique intuition. And she knew he would eventually fall- hard. A part of her wanted to protect and shelter him, not allow him to leave. This mother would walk through fire to keep him safe. She had spent his entire life shielding and teaching him right from wrong. It took all the strength and love she could muster to let him go. Yes, even loving someone means letting them walk away. Allowing them to learn life lessons for themselves. Realizing that as a parent, they have done all they can. However, her heart felt like bricks, heavy with worry, wondering if she would ever see him alive again.
But she prayed. Oh, how she cried out to God with groans that only the Holy Spirit could decipher. She carried on to the best of her ability by continuing to love him and the rest of her family, making sure they knew to what depth. She continued to trust in a God who sees and cares, but the pain and loss took a toll. Each morning it was difficult to get out of bed. As she brushed her hair, pieces came out in the brush. She cooked meals for her family even though she didn’t feel like eating herself. Hives on her skin showed the tangible forms of stress, knowing her boy was somewhere out in the world, hurting. Somehow, she managed to put one foot in front of the other, never forgetting the son who turned his back on her.
I imagine that she too was often looking out the window, or gazing across the fields of their property, hoping to see her “boy” return home.
This mother never stopped loving him. She never gave up hope that he might change his mind and his heart. And her prayers remained fervent, though her pillow was often wet from tears when she cried herself to sleep.
But let’s be honest. She probably questioned her parenting skills. “Was it my fault? I should have done better. I was too hard on him.” True, she wasn’t the perfect mother. There were definitely days of regret. She had been impatient, easily angered, and a perfectionist at times. That leech-like mom-guilt often clung to the forefront of her mind. On particularly dark days, she allowed the negative thoughts to take over, consuming her, drowning out the light. Her precious son was lost, gone forever. She even considered what his funeral might look like.
No. No! She mustn’t go there! She pushed those thoughts away with prayer and scripture,
Psalm 42:11
”Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.”
She had done the best she could and the hard, cold truth was that her son was making his own choices now. Ones that didn’t include her or her God.
“Lord, save my son, please! May he turn his heart back to you!”
Days, weeks, months went by without a word. It nearly ripped her heart out. She took her pain to God. He knew what she was feeling. He’d been rejected too.
Then, one day she heard laughing, cheering, crying even! She recognized his voice immediately. What was happening? Could it be? Was it possible?
Yes! Her son had returned! He was thin, disheveled and nearly unrecognizable. No sign of inheritance left amidst his ragged, smelly clothing and unkempt appearance.
But it was him. A mother knows her child. This was her beloved boy. A man, yes, but to his mother, he will always be her precious baby boy. He was repentant and his heart changed! He had come back to God and to his family! She clung tightly to him with deep sobs and an overwhelming sense of peace.
Her son was imagined dead, but was alive! And oh, what a testimony he had to tell. Praise God. Praise God!