Drifting and Wandering

I shielded my eyes as I kept watch over the black speck that was my son. Hunter was so far out in the water that I could hardly make him out. He was taking a break from diving under the waves, swimming and floating just past the breaking point. His brother couldn't swim quite yet so I had my hands full trying to keep him from drowning as he constantly lurched forward into the oncoming waves.

As Hunter and his friend began swimming to shore, ready for yet another snack, I tempted my youngest out of the waves with promises of Oreos. (Mama needed a break!) As the swimmers got closer, my heart dropped into my stomach. That was my son's friend, all right, but my son wasn't with him. It was another boy who looked very similar to Hunter.

I thought I had Hunter in my sights at all times, but with the windy day, the waves, and my 4-year-old kamikaze surfer-wannabe, I missed my son drifting off on his own. Growing panic washed over me as I scanned the swimmers in close proximity. I couldn't find him anywhere!

My friend Amie took charge of my youngest and I took off down the beach. It required all of my willpower to just walk down the shore in order to give myself the best chance for identifying my son among so many other swimmers.

After walking for quite awhile, I paused, thinking, "Surely, he couldn't have gone this far." I was praying fervently that God would help me to find him, so at that moment of indecision (should I go back or should I keep walking?), I felt God nudging me to keep walking.

Finally, a half-mile down the beach, I spotted him slowly walking ahead of me. Relief washed over me and I ran to him, calling his name. He turned around, completely unaware of the panic he had caused. When I asked what he was doing, he replied, "When I came out of the water, I didn't see you or Mrs. Amie so I decided to walk down the beach until I could find you."

Without noticing, he had drifted away with the waves then continued walking in the opposite direction of where we were sitting. In the midst of crushing him with a hug, I asked him why he hadn't turned around to try the other direction. He said, "I figured that eventually you would find me."

I countered, "But you were walking away from me. You kept getting farther and farther away."

"Yea, but Mom, you always find me when I wander off."

As we walked back to our chairs, I thought about how many times I have wandered off -- not from my parents, but from God. At times it is an act of outright rebellion, but most times, I just drift away making one seemingly small bad choice at a time. Eventually, I am all turned around and don't even know which way is the right way anymore.

Just as the father runs to his lost son in the "Parable of the Lost Son" (Luke 15:11-32), God runs to us. He will always find us when we wander off. If we'll only turn from our wandering, He is there waiting with open arms.