When One Who Wanders Comes Home

"Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me. I have found my lost sheep.'" Luke 15:4-6

"'For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.'" Luke 15:24

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"Sis is gone!" Gabe hollered. His face was red and his brows were drawn tight. "She's not in the yard and the gate's open wide."

No, I thought. Not the dog. Not now. Please, Lord, let her come when I call.

Gabe and I stepped outside. I cupped my hands and shouted. Gabe's voice echoed my own.

Sis did not come running.

She'd left through that open gate.

I remembered, earlier in the morning, that Samuel had gone to the garage for milk. He'd come into the kitchen, hands curled around plastic cartons. He'd forgotten the latch.

"Get your coat. And your brothers, Gabe. We need to look for the dog."

Gabriel was off like a shot. And I stood in the empty the yard. All was quiet. All was still. Except for the fear that ran in my heart.

Soon we were gathered in the van. I drove. The boys prayed. One would pray and another would pick up and three little boys wove a seamless circle of prayer around our sweet girl.

But she wasn't anywhere to be found.

Our friends were looking, too. Lonny cane home from work. But a few hours passed, and doubt  settled hard. How far can a greyhound run? There's the morning traffic. And the river. And the winter sky that's spitting cold rain.

After a long morning, the boys and I went home to make lunch. The house felt empty. As I cut fruit and made sandwiches, I thought about Sissy's gentle ways. Her calm nature. The way she brought peace and love to even unsettled days.

The boys stood in the windows like toy soldiers.

My heart hurt for them. For Sis. For us.

And just when we'd about lost hope the phone call came.

"I have her," Lonny said. "She's with me. And we're on our way home."

Oh, the JOY. The GLADNESS. The CELEBRATION when one who has wandered comes back home.

A few minutes later the Suburban pulled in the drive. Lonny climbed out and opened the side door. Sis tumbled out. She was worn and tired. She was wet and spent and a little frayed.

But she was with us.

She'd returned.

We surrounded her and pulled her into the fold.

And the homecoming was sweet.

Lord, thank you for reminding me that You bring wanderers back home. Thank you for pursuing, for not giving up. And thank you, in advance, for that sweet celebration that will come. Amen.