"The past is something I treasure. I look back a couple years, a couple months, a couple weeks, and even yesterday; and I realize, I can’t have any of them back. The broken pieces, the shattered dreams of the past can only become reflections and warning signs of the future. God has been so gracious to me. The light at the end of the tunnel had been burning brightly all along, but I could only gaze through the darkened lenses of my eyes. The scabs, the thorn in my side, and the unending questions of selfish “whys” diluted the still waters my Lord had laid out before me. I know God would have done things different if he did not care; if he asked only to have me as a servant, my life would tell a different story; but no, I am more than that; I am his son.

Here I am reminded of the prodigal son. The prodigal who runs with utmost freedom and returns with unmet hope. I am that son. The son who takes everything and returns with nothing. I am the son of betrayal and lies. I am the son unworthy of his father. But the story does not end here; and for that I am glad. You see, the father had been waiting. He had been waiting patiently, day after day, and night after night for his son to return safely. And the father, seeing his son in the distance, leaps and races towards the boy,  swinging his arms around his neck, his lips embracing his cheeks, and his heart overflowing with love; it was the fathers love. The father loved his son. He loved his son more than anything in the world. He loved past hurts. He loved past betrayals. He loved past himself. He loved with words that I simply cannot describe."