You labor diligently to raise a family,
teaching them right from wrong.
You pray that when they’re old enough;
they’ll choose Jesus as their song.
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You train them to pray and read God’s Word
and live the way they should.
You lay your head on the pillow at night;
knowing you did all you could.
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They meet up with the teen years
and choose a different path;
Wreaking havoc, causing heartbreaks:
you do the math.
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You cry out to God
in the depth of your pain;
that the prodigal
will return home again.
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After a season they crawl through the door
into your loving embrace.
You cry, you hug, you thank the Lord
for another glimpse of their face.
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“‘For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.”
Luke 15:24
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