THE PRODIGAL SON MEETS A PRODIGAL DAUGHTER
Comparing notes on "what not to do"
Luke 15:17-19: (from Christ’s parable of the Prodigal Son): This was the son who asked his father for his share of the inheritance sooner, received it, took off to a “far country” and sqaundered his wealth on “riotous living.” In verse 17, after reaching what I so cleverly call “the brick wall with your name on it”...he in desperation, goes to rock bottom work, tending pigs. He is starving. Verse 17 says “and when he came to himself, he said ‘how many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger!’ “ Verses 18 and 19 say, “I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son; make me one of thy hired servants.”
Romans 8:1: “There is therefore now, no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, that walk not after the flesh but after the spirit.”
The fact is that the Prodigal son, after reaching ROCK BOTTOM, “ he came to himself” and that is a good thing indeed! I did, too...even if it took much longer.
My lifetime favorite Parable from Christ is the Prodigal Son. He was the youngest child, asked unwisely for his inheritance early, took off into a “far country” and squandered his supply in “reckless living.”
Reckless living, indeed. He had to learn the hard way. I did as well. While I did not have an inheritance when I fled my Christian faith in God and became a Prodigal, I made so many unwise decisions that I later deeply regretted and hence, my kinship with the Prodigal son.
I wonder what a meeting would be like, between me and the original Prodigal son? Would we find similarities? Riotous living, I certainly knew from youth...and rebellion. Who knows what nudged the youngest son to flee in such a manner, while the older son was dutiful but possibly not fulfilled.
While I still have rebellion to battle with, even if not the amount I once did, staying completely “within the prescribed lines” can be difficult for at least some of us.
The son was expecting to be judged and refused and scolded...when instead, he was welcomed back, literally with OPEN ARMS. His father RAN TO HIM, embraced and kissed him and gave him a lovely robe and a ring and sandals and threw an immediate party...and brought him back into SONSHIP, not condemnation. Talk about the unsuspecting love and the MERCY of God!
Too many of us run from God instead of toward Him (guilty!) He has seen it all, more than once, every shade and texture and machination. He is not the author of confusion, the devil is. Trouble is, the devil is an excellent marketer. He knows dirty tricks, more than one of them. He hammers me constantly, the original bully.
I am simmering on my own origin of being a Prodigal to my Christian faith. Why did I flee? Disappointment? Sadness? Grief? Rebellion? Cast adrift?? I suspect a mix.
My Dad was stuck with a young teen daughter after my dear mom died overnight in 1966. Parents were separated. I lived with Mom. My Dad’s blunt news to my Mom of impending divorce somehow shattered her emotions, which led to a blood vessel bursting in her brain and she died in hours. One older brother Tom was killed in 1968 in Vietnam.
Years later, my dad said to me, “ you basically raised yourself through high school.”
Strange...
No counsel, no guidance other than a sense of unease (like DON’T make dad angry…) and formality on my part. We definitely did not have father-daughter “confabs” and dad knew utterly zero about teen daughters. I moved into puberty on my own, started my period with no help at all, oh joy!
Raised myself indeed....learn by doing, crash course, begun in earnest in 9th grade…at the height of the Vietnam War and Boomer sorrows.
I do thank my Dad for not putting me out on the street, for providing a basic roof, food, and clothing...but no love and little guidance. That added to my prodigal spirit of the loner.
I think it was grief and loss that initially drew me away from God...shame and self condemnation. They are determined little buggers, shame and self-condemnation...they won’t shut up and they can terribly damage and derail your life.
It was high school graduation weekend, 1971. I was in a friend’s car with four other friends...and a large bottle of whiskey was passed around. Not being familiar with hard liquor, I took a swig...and hated it. Hot and burning and sour and scary. Yuck. (now marijuana, another story…for later on)
Some of the road of Prodigal is good old garden variety peer pressure...” do this, try this, you’ll like it.” The vast majority of the time, I did NOT like it. In fact, I felt downright pressured.
I certainly experienced that, especially in my first year in San Francisco, 1979 to 1980. Party to the max and then the bill came due, friends began to die one by one of awful diseases that I narrowly escaped myself. Reality was not kind over the years, even if a learning experience.
The Prodigal son was the youngest, (like me). He was likely restless and rowdy and could not be contained. His older brother was also likely the opposite...begrudgingly obeying his father and being the “responsible” one. In the Rembrandt painting “The prodigal return”, the older brother is looking on with obvious distaste at the warm welcome his father gave to the rebel...not remotely understanding his father’s joy that his younger son was still alive!
Coming into adulthood is way scary...and something I had a huge struggle with…sex, drugs, rock and roll, failing in college, stumbling into basic work, finding my way as an overwhelmed and sensitive soul. The Prodigal “vibe” acts like a warm blanket that seductively urges you inside.
But soon it is ice cold and sopping wet and dragging you heavily.
Turn away! The devil is the darkness and he does not help, he harms!!
Even though I eventually came back Home to God (see previous WEW writing piece called “Collapsing on God’s front porch”), being a Prodigal for so many years has profoundly and negatively affected me. Already deeply wounded by sorrow in early adolescence, I left with no anchor, no foundational grounding, just rock bottom desire to survive. No real functional skills except good old hardheaded Oregon common sense. While that helped, it laid no firm place to land. I floundered and rambled in the wilderness for a long time, “head down in survival mode.”
Even if you go to 4-8 years of “ higher education”, AKA “college” , you still have to find your way in the rough world of work.
I am a master of “learn by doing”...and I have learned plenty by doing...but I am still slam-dunked by sorrow.
I can tell about it, I can teach about how to avoid it...but sometimes it grips you. I am in that grip right now. At 73, I am ready to go Home...but I have work left to do and will remain. I will lean HEAVILY on God and His Son, all the way Home, otherwise known as “clinging to God in desperation!”
So---a loving message from a sensitive soul and empath to those of the same challenge, some things to consider:
1.The Bible is both a textbook and a training manual, read it bit by bit.
2. Partner with God and His Son, repent of sin and ask to be saved!
3. Gradually get to know Them and ASK daily for Their help, as They will help you without quarter, all day, every day.
4. Seek the gifts God gave you and begin to use them, bit by bit. Even in my Elder age, this can and does work! Even in sorrow, the gifts work (as here I am, writing, using the gift of words God gave me, even if not at the top of the mountain!!)
5. Repent daily and resist carrying the heavy bag of of sorrow around with you...it is HEAVY and we are not designed to carry this heavy load.
Got it?? Yes, I absolutely still struggle with this lesson...but at least I try and I ask for help. I asked several of my Sisters in Christ today, to pray for me in my despair!
To all the dear brokenhearted out there, I never, ever scold, as I detest being scolded! I empathize deeply with Isaiah 61:1...as I come directly from that need to “bind up the brokenhearted”, as Christ has and continues to do , for me.
With God , you are never alone!
Wendy Elizabeth Williams Friday, March 6, 2026
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--Please pray for me! Thank you, Wendy

The point is, when you came home you came home to stay! How I wish that would happen for someone I love.
I love your story.