Desperate Father

He...
Stands waiting at the gate
Days, months have passed, but he is not dismayed
It is his son, his child
The heir to all he owns
But not of riches made of silver, platinum or gold

He...
Chases after our soul
Just for the hope that we will want to be made whole
Stays up, waiting late into the night
For the hope that we just might…
Come home

While we walk among the zombies, 
while we waiver and hesitate
Each day a new struggle,
Filled with so much anger, so much hate
or just meandering on a course of our own
What is it that we truly long (for)?

He...
is desperate in his desire
To reach the loneliness we hold
a little too closely
As we keep fighting, won’t let go
But he resides in a place that our hearts truly seem 
to gravitate towards if we would just let go and believe

He...
Longs for the day he’ll see us
Still waiting at the gate
He’ll cast aside our burdens
He’ll never hesitate 
to welcome us home 

I have always been hurt by the fact that my (heavenly) father never came for me.  That I’ve had to feel so alone and so desperately seeking something that would never happen.  And while there is reality in those hurts, there comes a point where we have to stop and go home.  He’s waiting there with his arms wide open.  Always standing at the gate.  He is aware of our wanderings and allows us to fall, to get up, to find our footing, to lose hope, and to ultimately succumb… but yet he is there.  He’s always there.  And it’s not such a distant journey, it’s a breath (uttered) on the wind, a step in his direction.  It’s just going home.

Inspired by Luke 15:11-32

3/17/19
clc