I spoke with a father today. Though blank faced, pain filled his voice as he didn't tell of his lost son. He spoke of caring for the ones who remain. As he spoke of the present, he mourned the past. The pain could almost be touched, but he didn't want it touched. The pain had become part of a cloth. A cloth shroud twisting and turning about him and his family. It threatens to choke the life of them all, yet it is so real in it's falseness that they cling to it as if it is life itself.
Ironically, part of today's Gospel reading is the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). I hope that the lost son of the man with whom I spoke might one day find his way back to his family. I pray that they might be able to come together rejoicing in a love to be found. Peace.
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