Page 142 of The Prodigal Son

Are they ever enough to get anyone through?

Wrapping my arms around my bent knees, I close my eyes and pray.

“Dear God, give me strength. Please. I need you. I’m afraid,” I whisper.

Tears moisten my eyes as the sun sinks below the horizon. A gentle sigh escapes my lips as I bury my face in my folded arms.

“Please, don’t leave me. Not when I need you the most.”

Call me crazy, but I swear God hears me better now. I feel his acceptance in a way I’ve never felt it before. His gentle touch on my shoulder. His guiding voice in my ear.

I talk to him every night, but tonight feels the most terrifying because my future is so unclear. Will Isaac still want me after all this time? Do I have a following left at our church? Is there a home for me in the ministry? Even after everything, I still miss it. The congregation. The community. Will they still want me? If not, what will become of me or of my church? I don’t know who I am without this job.

It’s dark when I finally feel ready to stand and head inside. It’s my last group session tonight, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Have you talked to him?” my dad asks from the driver’s seat.

“No,” I reply. “I don’t want to bother him while he’s finishing up his tour. He still has a week left, and I just want him to focus on that.”

“His last show is here, isn’t it?”

I turn to face my dad with surprise. “Yeah. How did you know?”

He shrugs. “I have a life, Jensen. And I know how to use a computer.”

“You didn’t buy tickets, did you?”

“What? I can’t go to concerts now?”

My head tilts as I glare at him. “Dad.”

“What, son? You realize you’re not a burden on him, right? You’re his boyfriend, and you deserve to be there. Don’t you think he’d want you there?”

My jaw clenches as I turn forward. “I don’t know…”

He picks up my phone from the center console and tosses it in my lap. “Then call him.”

“I will,” I argue. “I just got out. Can you give me some time, dammit?”

He chuckles, his large stomach shaking as he drives. His smile is infectious and I have to admit that it’s nice to be back to this new vision of normal. The last two months have been heavy, and they will continue to be heavy for a while.

My mom hasn’t come home from her sister’s. My dad told her not to, and while that’s not something I can really carry right now, I still feel the guilt of it. He asked me to live with him for a while, but I told him I really needed to do this on my own. I didn’t go through those eight weeks for nothing. I’m ready to live my life now.

“What about work?” he asks.

“I meet with the board tomorrow.”

“So you’re going back?” He glances my way with uncertainty, but I give a solemn nod.

“I want to. There is still a lot of good I can do.”

Technically, the board decides, but I built a following. I brought it back to life. I worked hard to save it from ruin and scandal, so I have every right to keep my position. But if I lose my attendees, I lose the church. And if that happens, then I’ll find another. There are always options. Nothing is hopeless.

Reaching across the seat, he places a large hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

With a subtle smirk, I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Home sweet home,” my dad says as he opens the door to my house. I have my duffel slung over my shoulder as I step inside. He rushes into the kitchen while I stand on the mat.

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