lavish

A quiet evening at the park turned dark when a little girl went missing. A 12 year old vanished at twilight. Darkness encircling, a storm coming. Literally, and oh so true figuratively as well.So we left our plans and paced. Trying to trace steps, thoughts of a little girl. Checking behind, underneath, around, to each boundary. Nothing. Officers come, calm and secure, assured of reaching the bottom. Finding her safe.All the while, questions impossible to know. There is always another side. Turns out...The mother panicked. Daughter fled. Family ripped apart. A mother's own heart conflicted. In chaos, grasping for control. Trying to force a girl into a world's definition of desirable, beautiful. Instead of love, fear.She screamed. Screamed at her daughter. Screamed when she was gone. Screamed on the phone. Screamed into the dusk. Screamed when she was found. Screamed it was her weekend to have her. Screamed.The little girl cried. Cried for a home gone. Cried to be known and still loved. Cried to feel safe.And my heart broke. Mind swirling years past. Driving home in hot tears. Sticky from the heat. Feet having walked through dirt.Mind directed by the words of my brother back to my heavenly Father who loves always, without fail, always waiting when I wander. Never grasping to force me to a mold of beautiful but lavishing me with His love, so making me beautiful.He always lets us run. When I am bound and determined to make my own way apart from Him, His lavish Father heart let's me go. Trusting we will return when we see our need, secure He waits...watches.And in repentance, returning...literally turning around...He welcomes back. Coming home. My Father is so lavish. His kindness leads to repentance.Prodigal actually means wastefully extravagant or giving something on a lavish scale. I'll never forget hearing a sermon by Louie Giglio when I first heard this definition. And so my God is the Prodigal Father. He gives freely, extravagantly, lavishly...not expecting or needing anything in return. But desiring deeply that I return. That we return.To a home that's safe. Where fear isn't screamed through control. A home that's whole. Where we are known and still loved.May His love echo louder than screams in that little girl's heart. And let His love echo louder than the screams of fear and control that those I love have heard. And may my heart refuse the way of fear and control, spending for what does not satisfy, but receiving the joy of being extravagantly loved. And may my posture echo His lavish love...letting go and watching for the return of those I love who wander.Extravagant. Love. Lavish.