To the Parent Who Prays for the Distant One

I see your sleepless nights, thinking about that child who drifted away from me, who chose paths that deeply worry you, day after day. This is one of the quietest kinds of pain that exists in the world: loving someone with everything you have and not being able to force them home, back to me.

You cannot do for them what only they can do: choose their own path. But you can keep praying without growing discouraged, without being shaken by what you see happening today right before your eyes. I am still working on things that human eyes simply cannot see yet.

Let go of the schedule for when this should happen — that deadline you keep pressing for. I know this son, this daughter, far better than anyone else in the world. I keep standing here with my arms open, waiting, just as faithfully as I wait for you in every weary prayer that rises up to me before dawn.