THE  MOTHER  OF 

THE  PRODIGAL  SON

[I’m sure in the  past  2000 years of Christianity,  someone  has written a story about the mother of the Prodigal Son, but I haven’t seen it. So here is my attempt at an imaginary story about  the mother of the Prodigal Son. She’s missing from the story - told to us by Luke.  I’ve often wondered why.   And I didn’t know whether to write this story in the first person or the third person. As you can imagine, that would  make a world of difference as well.]

She had a stroke about a year before her son took off for a foreign country. She had lost her ability to speak - as well as having trouble walking and working around the house.

The younger brother didn’t like his older brother - who was too goody good for him - always on his case - always on his back. Older brothers can sometimes be like that.  His mom - he had to admit - was too, too disabled - and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life taking care of her.

His dad was understanding - mushy like mashed potatoes -  but the younger son didn’t mind that most of the time - because most of the time he got his way.  And the older brother - as you would expect - wanted his dad to be as tough as rock - especially when it came to the way he treated his younger brother.

In those days, one was grown up by the time one hit 17 - so this younger son asked his dad for coins - better for  his inheritance - and surprise his dad said, “Okay.”

And off he went to discover far countries - to see the world - and to figure himself out - and find himself - in the process.

He knew he didn’t want to be a caregiver.

He also knew he didn’t want to be a farmer. Besides that his older brother would get the most in the will.  Besides that - because his mom had the stroke - he was stuck doing most of the inside - in house work.

He took his coins and himself and headed for his first faraway place  - some 250 miles away from home. Immediately he had lots of friends - male and female.  He was  young - well dressed  - and noticed.

Coins - the sight and sound of coins - can do that.

He bought a sleek chariot - rented a great back room - right next to the best drinking spot in town.

Then his money ran out - along with his so called friends. He had to sell his chariot and his great pair of white stallions  - and he was thrown out of his digs.

He got a job at a local pig farm - little pay - no food - and a famine - a depression - had hit the area.

Stuck in the mud with pigs - smelling of you know what - starving - he got sick of pig slop and he started to long for home.

He began to do a lot of talking to himself.

Mud and mess can make the mind clear up.

He decided on going home and saying to his father. “I’m sorry I really messed up. I’m sure you’ll be embarrassed to have me still as your son. Take me back as a hired servant. I’ll take care of you and mom and do anything you want me to do - everything and anything.”

So he headed home.

In the meanwhile his dad worried every night how this disappeared son was doing.

His wife couldn’t speak - but she knew. She knew what he was thinking and feeling and crying and looking out the window to the west for.

She also knew what her oldest son was thinking. He would come and talk to her - but  she couldn’t answer. All she could do was to pray for her 3 sons: her husband and their two boys.

Then came the homecoming moment. His dad knew - looking up the road - just knew this was his son shuffling along in the distance - in the rising sun.

The old man could still move - as he ran up the road - and ran right into the body of his lost son.

The younger son had his speech ready about not being worthy to still be called his son.

The old man would hear none of that.

He started barking orders.

“Quick!  Get him cleansed.

“Quick! Get out his best robes - pink or purple.

“Quick! Find his favorite sandals - the soft ones.

“Quick!  Kill the fatted calf.

“Quick!  Cook up my son’s  favorite foods.

“Put a ring on his finger.

“Quick!  Line up some musicians.

“My son is back.”

Mom saw all this from the window.

Mom smiled as she hugged her son - but she worried about how his brother was going to take all this.

Her intuition was on the money.

When the oldest came back that afternoon - he wanted to know what the hubbub was all about - and the music - and the dancing.

When told that his brother was back - and your dad was throwing a party for your younger brother’s return, he became furious - and now he was at a far distance.

He wouldn’t go near the house.

He would not hear his dad’s words, “Hey, your brother was dead. He was lost. He has been found. Come on in and welcome him home. I have you always - but not your brother.”

The older brother yelled, “Are you crazy? All these years I never failed to serve you. I never ruined our family name. I never embarrassed you in front of your friends. He swallowed up your property with prostitutes. For him, you killed the fatted calf. For him you are throwing this banquet - and you never gave me anything.”

His father’s joy turned to sorrow as he told his older son, “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate  and rejoice,  because your brother was dead and has come back to life, he was lost and has been found.”

And his mother heard and saw  all this through the window.

And that night - long after the party - long after her younger son - went to sleep - feeling overwhelmed at how wonderful his father was - long after the older son tried to sleep in the barn - with the pigs - because  he still wouldn’t go into the house - to the embarrassment of his parents.

Long after all had quieted down - the mother of these 2  prodigal sons - the wife of this loving father - held her husband tight - all through the night. She couldn’t  speak - but he knew  she knew - why he did what he was doing.  She remembered how years ago he had slipped away from her embrace. He fell for a time.  But she welcomed him back with open arms - and it took him the longest time to accept her forgiveness.

That night  - that father - understood both his sons - because he too had been both of them. He knew forgiveness sometimes takes a long time.

That night - that mother - knew that this story - happens in its own way in  every family - even when someone is left out - in the telling of the story.

[Painting on top: 

Woman at a Window (1822) 

by Caspar David Friedrich]