The Prodigal Son

Illustration

It’s a rainy Thursday night in Seattle. The streets are flooded with headlights of those driving to and from a day’s work while the October downpour douses their car. The holidays are near which mean the stress of the holidays has begun to set in. Patience seems to wear thin with each passing day. Greetings have grown quieter and shorter. Yet on this mundane Thursday night, in a high school gym that is just outside the city limits sits 12 chairs in a circle around the half court line. The bleachers are tucked away, the faint shimmer of a few lights is all that makes this place visible. There is an empty stage towards the front to which the entryway faces. Slowly, one by one, each person walks through this door. Each carrying the weight and burden of their own lives to surrender to their brothers and sisters sitting within this incredibly important circle.

The group leader breaks the silent tension: “Well how’s everyone holiday’s been going?”

Immediately the eyes dart to the floor. For no one desires to be the first to speak, but all are clearly struggling.