Parenting, Poetry

The Prodigal’s Mom

There’s an empty chair at the table
Where my child once used to sit
When we all broke bread together
A family whole and fit

There’s an empty place in the photo
As his siblings celebrate
Without him again, missing him in
The memories they create

There’s an empty stocking at Christmas
Another year far from home
Joy with tarnished edges
As the wayward one still roams

There’s an empty place in my heart
That longs to be peaceful, content
Praying my child heeds the call of Christ
But fearing he’ll never repent

And so goes the song - it goes on and on -
Of a godly mother’s heart
Life’s full of empty moments
Her prodigal’s sin imparts

Until our knees and hearts are raw
We pray and pray again
A thousand tears we offer up
“How long, O Lord?” and “When?”

And the Father who once welcomed us home 
- For we were His prodigals too -
Says, “Come and rest, and stand the test,
My grace is sufficient for you.”