Reflections on the painting of Rembrandt – The Return of the Prodigal Son

The preparations started a long time ago.
Should I go back?
What will I say?
And if I am not welcomed back?
Suppose I am turned away?

And then the memories came.
Memories of special times spent together.
Memories of loving embraces and gazes.
Memories of plenty and joy.
Memories of love.

Suddenly the memories overcame the apprehension.
And I realized I must return.
For what was I in your absence?
Confused. Lonely. Fragmented. Divided.

The walk home was fast paced,
At times faltering.
The small voice still wondering
But the stronger voice even more pronounced now.
Remember!
Remember the love.

And so at last home was in sight.
Just as I had left it.
The gate.
The impressive house.

And finally my Father.
In red.
With a wide smile.
Arms outstretched.
He too remembered-
Or perhaps unlike myself, he had never forgotten-
That I was the beloved daughter.

Oh the embrace…

His loving eyes make me speechless,
His loving arms
At once tender and strong
Holding and welcoming.
His merciful face
Smiling and caring.
His outstretched hands
Ready to embrace me.
To bring me forth as a new creation.
The old has passed away.
Behold the new born self comes forth,
At once new and whole.

What is there to say?

I am home at last.
I am safe once again.
I am where I have always belonged.
Where I should never have left.

I have the courage now to speak.
I ask for pardon.
For letting the wild parts of me take control of my emotions.
For leaving home without even a backward glance.

Who was I in your absence?

I have the courage now to speak.
I ask for pardon in your loving embrace.
For allowing the rigid parts of me to take control.
For thinking I am better than others.
For looking for love and acceptance from others.
For letting fear control me.
For allowing myself to be taken up in my judgmental attitudes.
For allowing the holier than thou ME take over.

Pardon me my loving Father.

In your loving embrace
I find myself again.
I am made whole.
New.
I can gather myself again with your strength.

Finally I can see
Who I am.
Broken but loved.
Searcher of love in the wrong places.
And yet you were always there waiting for me.
Patiently.

Finally I am home.
Loved.
Accepted.
Embraced.
Healed.
Whole.
And what homecoming it was!
For me,
Especially for me.

Luke 15: the Lost Son…

Mary Wairimu Gitau IBVM