The Prodigal Son

I don't know how many years ago it was that my husband and I were sitting at the Anchorage, Alaska airline terminal-- probably ten or so. Since it was during the summer and finally dark, it must have been around 11 p.m. Although the waiting room was filled with people waiting for either incoming and outgoing flights, my attention was focused on a woman accompanied by two teenagers, a boy and girl. At first, I assumed she was the mother of the kids, but as I continued watching, soon decided the kids weren't siblings--too touchy-feely for that. Whether she was the mother or not, I couldn't determine. What I did determine, though, was they were waiting for an incoming flight.

Each time the doors from the ramp opened and people began entering the terminal, the women would move her head back and forth trying to get a better view of those coming up the ramp. She would stand on tiptoe to look over heads, then duck down to look under arms of those blocking her view. She was in a bob and weave mode as her excitement mounted. Then, as the last passenger had cleared the doorway, I'd watched disappointment move across her face. Not this flight, maybe the next one.

I wondered who she was waiting for, who was so special to her. Parents maybe, or husband? Child or best friend? As time passed, her anticipation and excitement increased. Finally, as the last few people disembarked from one particular flight, a shriek escaped her lips and her face lit up from ear to ear. The teenagers hugged each other and kissed. I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to turn around for a peek. It didn't take long for my peek to become a long look. Coming up the ramp was a tall, good looking, graying uniformed soldier. He wasn't a son/brother. This was husband/dad. She rushed into his arms. Oh, the joy, the hugs, and the kisses that followed. The teenage girl joined the celebration, then the men shook hands and slapped backs. I think everyone in the waiting room secretly celebrated with a happy family whom none of us knew. Hubby/dad was safely home.

On our flight back to Seattle I kept thinking about what had happened in that Anchorage airport. All the anticipation, the watching, the disappointment, the excitement, and the celebrating that the wife had gone through had given me a personal glimpse into the parable of the Prodigal Son. I could now picture more vividly the Father watching and waiting for his child to return, letting nothing disrupt his view. Then, there the lad came, back from the pig sties of the world! I could more easily imagine the father running to his son. Oh the hugs, the kisses and the celebration that followed. The beloved son was safely home.

The airport reunion added much joy to my flight home. The peek into the Prodigal Son parable totally blessed me. But I can't even begin to imagine what the reunion of our heavenly father, the one who knows only perfect love, really has with his errant children. It is beyond human comprehension. All I can say is, "Wow!"

Have a great rest of your day,
Jan