He was lost

...and is found.
Luke 15:32b

I was talking to my brother today, Tuesdays are usually our day to hang out, and I mentioned that tomorrow I'm coming up to my dad's house to have dinner. My brother then said "whenever you come up, dad prepares like a freakin FEAST." And at first, I laughed; if you knew my dad and our relationship, its not the best of times. But then, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Last week at Shockwave, we talked about the Prodigal Son. I've always thought that I was the older brother. The one that did most right, and that my brother gets off with a LOT of stuff. He gets the crappy grades and is irresponsible, and the expectation was always held higher for me; I hated that. I think I've always been a little bitter that he got off so easy with the divorce. I had to take care of him and worry about holding my own. I had to be in the middle of my parents and try and play referee. I was the one forced out of both houses because I was the one "stirring up trouble." When I moved out of my dad's house, it was a mutual decision. It was time for me to move on and branch out.

It's not that I thought that my parents HATED seeing me, but they never really go out their way to invite me over either. I only moved to Cockeysville, and you might laugh, but to my dad, that's far. He rarely steps outside of Hereford.

It wasn't until today that I realized that to my dad, I am the prodigal son. As much as I pulled away, he still awaits my arrival with everyday. I think that every second that he is sober, he is there at his door with open arms, no questions asked.

My brother told me today that every time he is over my dad's house, my dad is always asking about me. I really want to make more of an effort to talk to my dad more often. I think I try to keep him as out of the loop as possible so that it's "my life."

I don't want to be the "lost son" where my parents are constantly waiting for me. It will always be home for me. I might just be away for a while, not lost, but away.