WELCOME HOME, MY SON

I love the feel of lying in my own bed. The room is clean, and the covers on the bed feel so good over me. I feel so safe now that I'm back home in my father's house.

I remember one time though, that I didn't feel like that. I was tired of living here. I didn't like to do what my father told me to do, so I decided I wanted my share of the family money so I could leave home and be my own boss. Boy, was I in for a surprise. My father didn't like what I wanted to do, but he gave me the money and off I went.

I traveled to a large city a long way from where my father lived, and really enjoyed myself. I ate the best food, stayed in the best hotels, and had lots of friends. I enjoyed going places and doing whatever I wanted to do.

Then one day, I realized that my money was gone and so were my friends.

"Hey, no problem," I told myself. "I'll just get a job, and everything will be like it was before. I'll have money again." But at home we had servants to do almost everything for us. I didn't know how to work. How could I get a job if I didn't know how to work? The only job I could find was feeding pigs! I was used to having servants serve me my food, and here I was standing in the middle of a pen serving pigs. I was so hungry I was ready to eat the garbage I was supposed to feed the pigs.

"Wait," I told myself. "it doesn't have to be like this. Even my father's servants have enough to eat. I can't go home as a son, but maybe my father will let me come home and work as one of his servants. At least I'll have food to eat."

It didn't take me long to get started back toward home. I didn't have anything left to pack in a bag. I didn't even have a bag so down the road I went.

Then I realized, "What if my father doesn't want me back? Maybe he won't even hire me as a servant."

I walked slowly, as I got closer to home. What would my father think? What would he say when he saw me?

I looked down the road toward home as I got closer. I could see someone standing in the road, probably a servant. As I got closer, the person in the road started moving toward me. Now, he was running toward me. It wasn't a servant, it was my father, and he was running toward me with his arms open to hug me.

"Father," I cried. "I was wrong to leave home. Will you let me come back and work as a servant?"

"No, you will always be my son," he said through his tears. He turned to the servants and said, "Bring clean clothes to put on him, and put shoes on his feet. Fix a big meal of celebration. My son has come home! My son has come home!"