I have gone back and forth in my life in so many instances, in so many ways. The spiritual journey pulls me in. I stubbornly pull myself out, only to be drawn in again.

My obstinance and frustration; sometimes I just want it to let me go. Let me live my life, will you? I’m done here. It was all just a bunch of foolishness anyway.

Then, some book, some word, some inkling, some inspiration, some difficulty, and there I am, seeking again. Trying to discover the greater part of myself that might one day lose itself in the rapture of unconditional love.

Why? I have asked myself. Why won’t it just let me go? What is it about me that makes me a seeker?

Actually, nothing at all. It isn’t about me. It was never about me.

God, the great prodigal, it’s God who keeps drawing me in.

But why am I calling God a prodigal? Isn’t that like the bad son who went off and squandered everything he had to licentiousness and greed?

Actually, the word prodigal, as Vincent Pizzuto has clarified, more broadly implies “giving something away on a lavish scale.”

Yes, the son was reckless and wasteful, but it was the father who gave the son everything without question in the first place. It was the father who lavished the son with compassion when he returned. It was the father who put the ring on his finger and killed the fatted calf.

In the same sense, while it seems like I’m doing the seeking, really it’s God who is ever seeking me. God, pouring Grace upon Grace, drawing me near, lavishing me with love and compassion. How can I but yearn for the Divine embrace?

A force, much greater than me, ever calling, ever drawing me closer. No wonder I can’t help but be a seeker with a prodigal father such as mine.

What, then, can I say?

Thank you, Lord, for never giving up on me, your prodigal daughter. Confused and wasteful as I am, you are ever there to lift me up again into the arms of pure and everlasting love.

Praise be.


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