Lay your weary mind on my lap.
Rest the day’s worries, fears, and doubts
into the palm of my hand.
I see you, your neck crooked, your back heavy
from carrying a load that was never yours to bear
or pick up onto your hunched shoulders.
I see you, your eyes dilated from tiredness,
your mouth displaced into a frown,
your nose and brows crinkled into premature
fine lines that I reserve for those wisened by time.
Not yet, I whisper to you through the zephyr,
those are not the lines I wrote for you in the book of life.
I came for you to have life abundant and joyful.
What have you allowed to steal, kill, and destroy that life?
Is it the boy that is not yet man enough to know a good woman?
Is it the job that will not be in your life for even a blink?
Is it the provisions that I promise to the least of these, so why not you?
Is it a future that you do not trust that I have already ordained for your good?
Which one is it?
Or is it all just a lack of trust in your Heavenly Father?
When will you allow your heart to listen and hear?
I only have good for you — plans to prosper you.
A hope, a future…you know the spiel,
I’ve watched you etch it into your memory.
One important detail you forgot as you memorized:
I only promise the plans I have for you.
I cannot promise the plans you have for you.
It seems like you can’t either.
So lay down your weapons you wage against yourself.
Place your worries, doubts, and fears into the palm of my hand.
Lay your head on my lap and allow me to anoint it with oil.
Allow me to fill your cup until it overflows with my luxurious love.
Photos: Guillaume Bolduc and Paul Hanaoka
A Prodigal Love 