COME HOME

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Maria's husband had died when Christina was an infant. The young mother, stubbornly refusing opportunities to remarry, got a job and set out to raise her young daughter. And now, fifteen years later, the worst years were over. Though Maria's salary as a maid afforded few luxuries, it was reliable and it did provide food and clothes. And now Christian was old enough to get a job to help out.

Christina had an infectious way of throwing her head back and filling the room with laughter. She also had that rare magic some women have that makes every man feel like a king just by being near them. She spoke of going to the city. She dreamed of trading her dusty neighborhood for exciting avenues and city life. Maria did not want her daughter to go. Maria knew what her daughter would have to do for a living if she went to the city. That's why her heart broke when she awoke one morning to find her daughter's bed empty.

She quickly threw some clothes in a bag, gathered up all her money, and ran out of the house. With her purse full of small black-and white photos, she boarded the next bus to Rio de Janeiro.
Maria knew Christina had no way of earning money. She also knew her daughter was too stubborn to give up. When pride meets hunger, a human will do things that were unthinkable. Knowing this, Maria began her search. It wasn't long before both the money and the pictures ran out, and Maria had to go home.

It was a few weeks later that young Christina descended the hotel stairs. Her dream had become a nightmare. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her eyes noticed a familiar face. She looked again, and there on the lobby mirror was a small picture of her mother. Christina's eyes burned and her throat tightened as she walked across the room and removed the small photo. Written on the back was this compelling invitation. "Whatever you have done, whatever you have become, it doesn't matter. Please come home."

She did.

(Max Lucado, one of my favorite writers, has told this true story many times. I have taken it from his wonderful book, No Wonder They Call Him The Savior, edited it to fit this space, and retold it for you)