Reading Francis

God is like my mom at Thanksgiving.

I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot over the last few days. With Thanksgiving approaching, we are very excited about our college kid coming home for a few days, and it has reminded me of all the Thanksgiving trips home we made to Jacksonville for family dinners at Mom and Dad’s house during the early years of our marriage.

We are notoriously late arrivers, so it would usually be well after reasonable hours when we would finally make it to the house I grew up in. Invariably, Mom and Dad would be waiting for us in the den, with a late-night college basketball game keeping them company during their vigil. (Though always a football holiday, we were grateful for the tournaments in Alaska and Hawaii that usually happened early in the week, since it meant there was something to watch late at night.)

No matter how much later than expected, they were always excited when we showed up. My mom had a smile that really covered her whole face, and while babies always got the biggest smiles out of her, homecomings came in a close second.

Sometimes, especially in later years, I’d hear Mom say things that put me on the defensive – how it had been soooo long since I’d been home or questions about whether we could extend our stay. I wish I had been better at hearing what was beneath those statements and questions: the joy of having someone you love return home after an absence. I understand that a lot better, now that the shoe is on the other foot.

It’s probably worth remembering that God feels that way about each of us. The parable of the Prodigal Son is, of course, the most direct illustration of God’s welcoming love, but you can find it throughout the Bible and beyond, as well as the call for each of us to be just as welcoming to the strangers in our midst. 

Just as with my Mom, sometimes I can misinterpret that joyous welcome, adding in a side dish of guilt for being away so long or not staying longer. Maybe if you haven’t been spiritually around much, you can let that guilt get in your way, as I have. But maybe we can learn to look past that which feels like guilting to hear the joyous welcome that’s underneath it.

God is like an empty nest parent welcoming the kids home for Thanksgiving. See that divine smile and seal it in your heart.

Welcome home.