Dear Friend,
When my own Prodigal took a journey away from home and into the arms of a world bent on his destruction there was only one thing I wanted to hear: "Don't worry. He'll come back to you and to God soon." Any other words met with opposition in my heart. I didn't want to hear, "God cannot make him do anything." or "He has free will. He may choose never to return." The latter was a distinct possibility, but I refused to accept it choosing rather to believe that as long as there was breath in my son's heart, there was hope. It's from that perspective that my words are penned to you today.
If you remember nothing else from this letter, remember this:
Never stop loving.
Let go, but never give up.
It's hard to understand when a child we love chooses to walk away. We spend years sowing the seeds of truth and love into their lives. When tiny sprouts of faith peek their heads through the soil we find ourselves stepping carefully lest we trample them underfoot. We pluck with vengeance, not always certain if what we hold is an auspicious flower or a stubborn weed. We know that if permitted to remain, the weeds of discontent, bitterness, rebellion and hate will choke out the life we have cultivated with care. So we work diligently, day after day, twenty-four-seven, three-hundred-sixty-five, winter, spring, summer and fall, ‘til death do us part.
Even after the soil is carefully tended, we watch with hoe in hand daring the weeds to return. We are on duty always. First steps, kindergarten, skinned knees, junior high, learner permits, broken romances, basketball, after-school jobs, high school. We affirm, we scold, we cool fevered brows, we chase the shadows away. Yet, even with such diligent care, some of us watch sadly as the unthinkable happens and the one we love so dearly turns and stalks away.
I don't know where you are on the journey. I can guarantee you that there will be promising days, and there will be difficult days. The road ahead may be long - perhaps it already has been - and there will be days when you will feel despair and hopelessness.
The fight you are in is one of the most important battles of your life. Arm yourself, and wage war for your child. Ready yourself for combat by going to your knees. Prayer is not a last resort, it is the most important thing you can do. Never, ever give up no matter how dark it may become. God is not limited. His hands are not tied. His Holy Spirit can be present where you cannot. He knows your Prodigal inside out. He knows his pain; He knows her thoughts. Even when you cannot say or do anything, He can. Loose Him to work in your loved one's heart.
I can't write about this topic without thinking back on my own Prodigal's experiences. He left home one night at sixteen years of age in anger and pain. He's thirty-two now and only recently came back to us and to God. There were many times over those sixteen years when I despaired. Many times when I wept. Sometimes my prayers were silent vigils, and at other times they were loud and intense. Always they were a reflection of my broken heart.
I struggled to release my son to God. The struggle came because I was not convinced that His love for my son was greater than my love for him. It was an excruciatingly difficult, lonely time.
This kind of love doesn't excuse or rescue. Watching your Prodigal experience the consequences of his or her choices is hard. Somewhere on my own journey I read these words from an unknown author defining what it means to "let go":
To “let go” does not mean to stop caring, it means I can’t do it for someone else.
To “let go” is not to cut myself off, it’s the realization I can’t control another
To “let go” is not to enable, but to allow learning from natural consequences.
To “let go” is to admit powerlessness which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To “let go” is not to try to change or blame another, it’s to make the most of myself.
To “let go” is not to care for, but to care about.
To “let go” is not to fix, but to be supportive.
To “let go” is not to judge but to allow another to be a human being.
To “let go” is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes, but to allow others to affect their destinies.
To “let go” is not to be protective, it’s to permit another to face reality.
To “let go” is not to deny, but to accept.
To “let go” is not to nag or argue, but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.
To “let go” is not to adjust everything to my desires, but to take each day as it come. And, to cherish myself.
To “let go” is not to criticize anybody, but to try to be what I dream I can be.
To “let go” is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.
Earlier today I heard Rev. T.D. Jakes say to a mother hurting over her own Prodigal daughter, "If love doesn't tie a cord, there won't be a cord." No matter how ugly things may become, never stop loving. Love is the cord that will tie you together. I remember telling my son, "No matter what you do, or where you go, I will always love you. There is nothing you can say or do to make me not love you."
I remember one day a few years ago when my son and I had the rare opportunity to be alone. I asked him a difficult question, and in a rare moment of honesty he spilled his guts. I was shocked, hurt, devastated - but, my response surprised us both and looking back in retrospect I know that it was a "God-response." We were sitting on the couch, and I reached for him and pulled him into my arms, saying as I did, "Oh, son. That must have been terrible for you. I'm so sorry that you had to go through that alone." He began to sob, and laid his head on my lap just like he used to do when he was a little boy. I rubbed his head and his back . . . just like I used to do when he was a little boy. Mostly we just cried together." I will never forget that moment, and neither will he.
Regardless of where their trek takes them, you can count on this: he or she will never forget the love you have shown through your words and your actions. The temptation may be to label your Prodigal, or to say in a thousand different ways, “How could you do this after all I’ve done for you?” Don’t do either. When you are given the opportunity listen to her heart, try to understand why she is making the choices that she is making. If you alienate by speaking harshly out of your own pain, you may close doors that will take years to open again. Trust me on this one . . . we learned the hard way.
I remember wrestling with tormenting thoughts such as, "I should have seen this coming." "I could have taken more time with . . ." "I ought to have known . . ." “If only I had.” I was not perfect in my parenting. None of us are. By the time we have it figured out, our kids are out the door. Imperfection does not make for a bad parent. Beating yourself up with the should's and have's and ought to's will drain you of the energy you need to see this through. Mostly I would advise, just don't go there. Set those thoughts aside for another day, and when that day comes push them on into the next. There is nothing you can do about the past, but there is a whole lot you can do about today.
I'm honored that you have allowed me an entrance into your life. This is hard, but with God's help you will get to the other side.
Love, Ronda
"The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous (mom or dad) availeth much."
James 5:16
