By: Mary Wiebe

The day had awoken bright and new
long was this sleepless night
I laid back down to think of him
what must his life be like

Three months had passed and still no sign
of the young one who walked away
His mother was always looking to see
if his return would be that day

Tears, oh the tears, my constant friends
my heart was burdened with pain
The loss of him was just too great
there seemed nothing left to gain

My days and nights turned into one
the weeks were arduous and long
There was no distinction between the hours
this thing called time wore on

I heard the talk of one so young
who left love, hearth and home
The gossip talked of great wealth he spent
and how he lived, loved and roamed.

Many friends, I heard, followed him
their lusts aligned with his
Freely he gave his soul to them
In an ignorant drunken bliss.

My heart cried out in constant prayer
to our precious God above
Oh Father, God, do what you must
to bring back this one we love.

How could I know that God had heard
the heartfelt prayer I gave
His hand was already making a way
to bring home this sin filled slave.

A famine of great magnitude
broke out across the land
But God assured me that all of it
was of His gracious mighty hand

The day had awoken bright and new
long was this peaceful night
I laid back down to pray for him
and trust God to make it right.

I stood and watched way down the road
seeing nothing, I turned to go
But something told me to look again
there, a small figure, walking alone

His shoulders slumped, his robe in rags
his head hung down in shame
His hands and feet were dirty and bare
I did not know his name

I watched as he came closer to me
not knowing who he was
Then down inside I felt a tug
I did not wait or pause

I ran to him, with arms opened wide
my eyes blurred from my tears
I could not wait to hold him tight
and love away all of his fears

He tried to pull away from me
claiming he did not deserve my love
I held him tighter within my arms
not allowing him to run

“Bring my ring!” I commanded them
and I placed it on his hand
“Now my robe, yes that one there,
and my sandals, the best in the land”

I placed these all upon my son
to help him know and see
No matter what kind of life he’d lived
my son he would always be.

Sometimes in life we find ourselves
robed in rags of our own choosing
Our feet and hands are dirty and bare
In life we find we are losing

And when the darkness of our souls
cannot be touched by the light of a candle
We turn to see in our Savior’s arms
His ring, His robe and His sandals.

©September 16, 2003