Prodigal Son-day

Once again, God showed up and fixed things for us this past Sunday.

Early in the morning Bob walked into the kitchen and commanded, "Call Victoria. We need her to come to church with us." After five daughters, it is time for me to trust my husband's judgment regarding sons. So as I was opening my mouth to question him about making a last minute phonecall, instead I called Victoria. Yes, she wanted very much to come and translate for the boys, and could she come a bit early? "Good," said Bob and went for his shower.

I carried on preparing breakfast, but within a few minutes, he returned to say that the boys were not coming to eat, that they had had a fight in the bedroom and were confined to their beds, until they made up. Calling upon his five-word Russian vocabulary, he had discerned from what they told him, that both - or neither - boy had started the fight, and that neither wanted to apologize.

I waited a while in the kitchen and then went in to their room, leaving Maggie and Rob and Bob to pray for the Holy Spirit to go with me. Sitting down opposite them on Rob's bed, I surprised myself by suddenly bursting into tears! Well, if I was low on affection, it wasn't for long, because two very sorrowful boys immediately descended upon me, crooning and comforting, "Ahhh, Mama!" and then bubbling on in affectionate Russian.

Peter was in tears himself and ready to say, "I am sorry," but it was apparent that James was only sorry he had upset me. While Peter the Naughty seemed repentent, James the Good was indignant. After all, it was he who had been pummelled by small Ukrainian fists, never mind that he may have provoked it. Whatever the case, more than mere repentence was necessary in his mind, before the prodigal son should return to the family breakfast circle.

Just when we were becoming concerned that a wonderful Sunday morning was being stolen from us, blessed Victoria walked in the kitchen door! So this is why Bob had asked me to call her, and why she "needed" to come over early.

She and I found James on a front porch rocker and went and sat with him. He explained to her, and to me by translation, that it was always this way. That Peter insults him and Peter whacks him. This particular altercation had been over a bet whether or not the ceiling light fixture was a tri-light, but Peter got physical, while James controlled his temper. Now he was having a hard time forgiving his brother.

Interesting that the message at church that morning was about pride that keeps us from saying we are sorry and from forgiving those who hurt us. As smart as they are, my guess is that both Peter and James got their little Word from the Lord... even though part of the time James had his fingers in his ears.