Coming Home (How Hard Is It To Walk In Forgiveness)

I've been thinking a lot lately about forgiveness. Just yesterday my best friend and I were discussing that, even though it is very hard to forgive someone that has hurt us, betrayed us, lied to us, or mistreated us over and over again, if they ask forgiveness, we are suppose to give it. Now that doesn't mean you become gullible, or don't use wisdom, but you need to make the choice to forgive according to the teachings of Christ. Walking in forgiveness is not always easy because even though we choose to forgive, our human minds stubbornly hold on to those memories, and we don't forget. So the least little word, or song, or movie, or new hurt or lie causes all of that hurt to come rushing in, and we feel like we are drowning in the pain of it all. But look at the unconditional love of the Father. How many times have we lied to Him, let Him down, betrayed our spiritual vows to Him. Yet, He always waits right there for us to say, "I am sorry, Father." And He opens His arms wide and tells us to come on home and that He loves us. And He never remembers it again. Not long ago I did this abstract type weave effect over several layered photos and wrote this writing called "COMING HOME"

Mama loves that old house on the creek bank in the backwoods down in South Alabama. It's pretty rickety and worn down. The newest thing she has is her gazebo on the other side with the wooden bridge Daddy built for her the year before he died. My cousin told me she spends more time in that gazebo than she does in the house, I don't know if it's because it's in better shape, or if it makes her feel closer to Dad. I haven't seen Mama since I left once I turned eighteen. I had to get away from that backwoods place and all of Mama's and Daddy's Christianity. It wasn't that they were too strict or tried to cram Religion down my throat, but I had to find my own way and the life they lived offered me no opportunity for fun. Looking back now, I see the error of my ways, but the hands of Time turn backward for no man and I had to pay for my ways. By twenty I had done it all: drugs, alcohol, prostitution, theft. I was a repeat offender and served five years in jail. That's where I was when Daddy died, I couldn't even be there to stand at Mama's side. That was the first time I had even talked to Mama since I had left. I was so ashamed, I cried and told her how sorry I was, and how my heart was broken that I would never get to tell my Daddy goodbye. But Mama, even in such time of grief said, " Baby, Don't you worry none, your daddy knew You loved him. He told me just the other day that you were gonna be fine. Why he even told me that he knew that before long that You'd be coming home." " But, Mama," I said, "I won't be coming home. I'm in jail. I've got three more months to serve, I can't even come to Daddy's funeral." " Baby, You just trust the Good Lord like you were taught, He and your Daddy were always right. I love you and will be praying for you." With that Mama hung up the phone. Trust the Lord, Pray...yeah I thought as I lay there crying, "I'm sure He'll listen to me." But He did, He listened, He cared, He comforted, He forgave. I've written many letters to Mama since that day and I told her all about the many things I did wrong. I told her how sorry I was that I hurt her and how much I loved her, and of course she loved and forgave. The last letter I sent just a few days ago. I told her I was getting out of jail. I told her I was coming home. You knew that, Jesus, didn't you? You knew I was coming home to You. You knew that, Daddy, didn't you? You knew I was coming home to Mama. You knew that, Mama, didn't you? You knew I was coming home to you and that old rickety home in the backwoods. "Well, open the door, Mama, I'm coming in."