The Prodigal Daughter
My life is simple. I wake up everyone morning. I eat breakfast. I hug my family goodbye and then I go to work. After what feels like an eternity, I finish my work day and head on to some other familial responsibility. Eventually, I end up in my bed, tired beyond measure, and fall into the abyss of sleep. God is in there somewhere I just know it. One of the blessings of the spiritual exercises is that they cultivate an awareness of God in real time, even in the mundane. I found myself in the presence of God in such a mundane moment just the other day. Without the blessing of my Ignatian spiritual practice I might have missed it. After a day’s work, and some much needed exercise, I went to pick my daughter up from the gym daycare. I found myself a silent bystander, watching her interact with one of the caregivers and the other children. This is a normal routine in our lives, but this time there was something different. My daughter caught sight of me. In a flash, she recognized me and a smile came across her face. She sprinted across the play area to me while saying “Daddy!!!!” Of course, this is every parent dream right? I cherish those moments. They fill my heart. In some ways, this moment alone would be enough. However, this time, I heard a voice inside my head. It was the voice of the spirit “no doubt.” The voice said, “This is what Jesus does when you are separated from him.” This is obvious right? The story of the prodigal son is famous for this theme, but what I felt turned that story on its head. I saw myself as the father in the story. Jesus runs to me just like the prodigal son, just like my daughter does. His arms outstretched, calling my name. He does it with joy and with longing. It can be so tempting for me as a Catholic to put myself in the place of the shamed son in the story, but Jesus put himself there so I wouldn’t have to. Suddenly my humdrum life was enlarged by my Ignatian practice, but most of all from by my “prodigal daughter.” No related posts.
Photo: “enjoying waterdrops” by “mrcharly” from Flickr (Used under Creative Commons license)
