Why would he take me back in?

“If I were in his shoes, I would wonder why he would take me back in.” That was the comment a friend of mine made the other day during a recent conversation I had with him about the prodigal son in the parable. What a wonderfully meaningful question to ask! Why indeed would the father welcome that ungrateful son after all the pain he had inflicted upon him? It certainly could not be because the son wished to amend his ways, repair and renew his relationship with his father, and become the loving son the father had always hoped he would be. He was simply looking for three square meals a day. Not exactly the picture of perfect repentance and solid ground for a change of direction in his relationship with the father! It certainly was not either because of a stellar plea for mercy or a convincing defense prepared and expertly delivered. His father did not even let him finish his rather lackluster attempt at doing that. Nor was it because the young lad had redeeming qualities or the ability to charm his way out of tough situations. The young man who sheepishly approached the father was a picture of weakness, dejection, and failure.

I told my friend that his question would make a great prayer. Afterward though, upon reflection, I thought it would have to be modified slightly for that to be the case. It would have to be addressed directly to the Father rather than be a musing that is turned in on oneself. Rather than wondering, “Why in the world would the Father take me back in?” I would have to phrase the question thus, “Father, why would you take me back in?” Such a question would turn me away from myself toward God and open me up to listen to His answer deep within.  I have no doubt that it would soon come and sound something like this:

“This is what real love is: It is not our love for God; it is God’s love for us. He sent his Son to die in our place to take away our sins.” 1 John 4,10 

Au pied de la croix

 

Je sens le désir aujourd’hui de m’installer au pied de deux croix, celle de Jésus au calvaire et celle de toutes les personnes qui souffrent. Je voudrais m’installer là pour écouter la voix de Jésus et celle de ces personnes qui portent un lourd fardeau.

C’est la même voix, l’une dans l’autre.

Je veux accueillir ces voix et les laisser me pénétrer profondément, si profondément qu’elles éveillent en moi une prière, un geste de tendresse, un regard de compassion, un accueil inconditionnel pour toutes ces personnes que le Seigneur met sur ma route.

Je veux écouter si profondément que j’entendrai aussi la voix de ceux qui n’ont pas de voix ou qui n’ont personne pour accueillir leur souffrance et la présenter au Seigneur.

Toi maman Marie, installe-toi avec moi au pied de ces deux croix pour m’apprendre à écouter la voix de ton fils Jésus et celle de mes sœurs et de mes frères.

C’est la même voix, l’une dans l’autre. C’est la même croix, l’une dans l’autre.

Gilles

A Deep Peaceful Sleep

Thank you to all those who expressed their condolences to my family and me. Your thoughts, prayers and expressions of affection are greatly appreciated!

I remember something that happened three years ago. François’ illness had progressed so much that he no longer communicated verbally and that weighed heavily on me. Once, I told him, “I wish you could tell me what is happening in your mind, François. I wish I could understand what you are feeling.” He said nothing then, but several weeks later, he looked at me, and his eyes told me that he had somehow broken through the haze of dementia for a few seconds and he told me, “You know what I really want? I wish I could sleep a deep peaceful sleep.” Those were the very last words he spoke to me. I am convinced François is at peace right now. I believe his last expressed wish was fulfilled. I felt that very strongly when I sat by his bedside after he passed away last week.

Two days later, that feeling was strengthened by a little incidence. There was a pigeon on our balcony. It was a very light beige, and, at a distance, it looked almost as white as a dove. Diane tried to shoo it away, but it seemed unable to fly. I assumed that it was hurt, and I called the Ottawa Valley Wild Bird Care Center to find out what I should do. They said it might simply be a very young pigeon who was not yet used to flying and suggested I wait a few hours before bringing it to them. In the afternoon, it was gone. It had learned how to use its wings.

The next morning, Rita, François wife, emailed me the English text of François’ obituary and asked me to translate it into French so that it could appear in the local French newspaper. The last sentence in the text read, “Memorial donations to the charity of your choice, including to the Ottawa Valley Wild Bird Care Center, would be appreciated.” I thought, “François sent me a peace dove to let me know that he was indeed now sleeping a “deep peaceful sleep. He has found his wings.” Rest in peace little brother.