Prodigal Daughter

Today we have a special guest post from Cal U student Brittney Jones. She saw this picture from Soularium and wrote this beautiful piece.


Soularium Church Pic

Prodigal Daughter

When I finally stopped running, I was alone, except for my memories. And I found myself standing before the door I’d run from, years ago. A heavy door, ornately carved, a painting of a man on a cross beside it. I touched the door, fingered the handle, and took an unsteady breath. Last time I had run from this moment and fled toward what seemed easier, what seemed less painful. That I was wrong made this return even harder.

There wasn’t a moment when this would be easy. I opened the door.

Silence filled the room, stilled my steps, slowed my heart. It was heavy, the silence. It pressed me in a pew, pinned me to the seat.

This was my mistake, stillness. This was my trap. My body calmed, so my thoughts could now be heard. Lonely started in my heart, a little chill that spilled from its prison into my blood and seeped beneath my skin. It grew colder, reminding me of my mistake.

“God.” The whisper forced its way out of my throat, past parched lips, and was trapped in the air like a fly in amber. It hung in front of me, stained by light from the tinted windows.

“God, I’m waiting.” I couldn’t breathe.

“God, please.” I was so tired, too tired to hold up my head any more. It bowed slowly, wearily. I knotted my hands together, beneath my forehead.

The dust revolved slowly in the air, drew patterns in the colored air.

The pain of loss rippled over me. I was too late. He said He would wait, but He wasn’t here. He hadn’t stayed.

“I don’t see You.” Tears slid down my cheeks and collided as they dripped across my nose.

“Why did You leave me?” The eaves creaked, the candle flames murmured, the colored class shifted in its frame.

“Where did You go?”

I am here. The whisper ripped through the oppressive silence, lifted the weight that pinned me down.

I am always here. I raised my eyes, blinked away tear, turned around.

I watched you, all this time. I never left. I waited for you to come home. I am sitting here waiting for you to turn around and see that I have always been here.


See this picture and many others when you stop by our Soularium table in Natali this Wednesday through Friday from 10am to 2pm. Also, this post is the beginning of a new blog series exploring different topics each Tuesday. If you’d like to guest post, send us a message at newlifecalu(at)gmail[dot]com.

Posted in Faith, God, Soularium, Topic Tuesday, Waiting and tagged , , .

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