Bringing Home the Prodigal

Prayer of a Prodigal’s Mother

Lord, I am tired, but still I trust
for my frame is weak and made of dust.
Yet trust in You is all I own
as I wait for my prodigal to make his way home.

To look at circumstance in the cold light of day,
of daughters and sons who’ve gone astray,
is enough to make the strongest heart fail.
So instead I must look beyond the veil
that was split by Truth to set mercy free,
free in abundance for all to see.

When hopelessness tries to whisper despair
and that I’m speaking vain words into empty air,
for the times when exhaustion has taken its toll
and breathing in, breathing  out is my only goal
I remember God’s word and I know that He hears
even the silent prayer of my tears.

Then words fitly spoken like apples of gold
dare my weakened heart to be bold,
to remember God’s plan in the midst of the pain
and to glorify Him so the promises remain.
For a faithful God with a loving ear
has recorded each prayer and bottled each tear.

So I will rejoice in spite of the pain,
in spite of a weak and weary frame.
For rejoicing in you is what I must own
as I wait for my prodigal to make his way home.

Lanette Kinsey