BRINGING HOME, THE PRODIGAL SON

By William Snesrud

Driving along Interstate 80, heading east toward Iowa, I was thinking about how it is possible that someone could just walk away from family and friends for most of the past thirty years.

After five weeks of tracking him down, it had now been three days since I located my old high school friend Charlie, who was currently sitting very quietly in the passenger seat of my Chevy S-10 pickup. Sitting quietly because he was either mad at me for making him come back to Iowa or he was just outright nervous or scared about facing his parents, his family after being gone and out of touch for so long.

I remember specifically the weekend he snuck home after his family had left for church and quickly packed up as much of his stuff as he could, threw most of the rest in a few big boxes, then taping them up and putting his name on them before grabbing what he needed or wanted, stuffing it all into the Chevy Vega he had at the time and drove off.

The only note he left behind was quick and to the point. It simply read, “sorry I have disappointed you all so much, don’t worry I will be just fine – love you all.”

I remember so vividly because within moments of finding the boxes and note, his parents called me and asked me if I knew what was going on.

At the time, I had a bit of an idea, but mostly I was in the dark as much as they were.

From what I can remember, Charlie was still flailing along in life after dropping out of college, then coming home to hopefully salvage his relationship with his high school sweetheart.

Unfortunately, that did not happen, and he began to drink heavily, hang out in the bars and at parties while stumbling from one job to the next until he met this gal from out of town named Rebecca.

Within days they were together all the time, and he began to commute to his job from her place which was 45 minutes from home. After that, I began to lose touch with him so when his folks called me, I truly did not any idea on what happened.

Except for his brother’s wedding 10 years later where Charlie made a surprise but very brief appearance, I for one had not a sliver of contact with him in close to thirty years.

It was then that my thoughts were interrupted by the breaking of the utter silence in the truck when Charlie spoke up and asked, “Do you think we could stop somewhere and get a quick burger or something because I am starving?”

“Sure, I think the next interchange has a bunch of places to eat,” I replied. “Should be in the next 15 miles or so.”

“Thanks Paul, I do appreciate it.”

“No problem, Charlie, you know we should probably talk a bit about things before we get back into Iowa and to your family?”

Charlie gave me a deep look as if he were holding onto to a tremendous hurt inside of himself, as his chestnut brown eyes gave me a look of complete sadness.

“I know,” he responded. “Maybe while we eat or after we get back in the truck. What was it again you told me about why you tracked me down and insisted on my coming home?”

Yep, he was still digesting the reason as to why I made it my cause to find him and bring him home whether he wanted to or not.

“There are several reasons as to why I tracked you down,” I began to explain again, something which I did with much passion immediately after he opened his front door and found me standing on his porch just three days earlier. “One – your dad is getting ready to retire from his pastorship and needs some closure on why you left. Two – your mom has been ill, and they are not sure what it is, but I see her as needing closure as well from you. Three – you need to find peace within yourself my friend, and because I care so much about you, I have determined it is my place to help you find it.”

“Do they ever ask or talk about what happened?”

As I pulled off the interstate to find a place to eat, I glanced over at Charlie and sternly noted, “Every damn time I see or talk to them the subject comes up and the hurt is still so weighing on them and their hearts.”

I decided to not give him a choice on where or what to eat and I pulled into a KFC on the interchange so maybe we could get something a bit more nutritious than just burgers and fries.

“Thank you for choosing KFC,” mentioned Charlie as I pulled to a stop in their parking lot. “I stopped eating red meat several years ago and chicken is my favorite next to salmon, trout, or catfish.”

We went in and both ordered a three-piece meal. As we found a table to sit at, Charlie nodded at me and said, “It is time.”

“It is time for what?” I asked him.

“It is time for explaining to you, my best friend who was always there for me back in the day and are here now to help me get through this intervention of sorts with me and my parents.”

I leaned back in my chair and looked at Charlie with a small smile before saying, “It’s about damn time. You know you were always like a brother more than just a friend and this thirty-year hiatus from contact has not been easy on me either.”

Over the next 30 minutes, while we slowly devoured our first solid meal since I found him, Charlie began to tell me what happened, in his words.

He told me about the guilt he felt for irritating his father while running around with a Roman Catholic youth group instead of the one at his own church, even though he and his dad never discussed the reasons why he did so. He never expressed his lack of feeling part of the group at his dad’s church because they all had money and came from families where the father’s were executives, lawyers, doctors or even a district judge. He never told them how he felt at home with the group of kids at St. Anthony’s because their fathers were factory line workers at the local meat or motorcycle factory, while others were farmers.

He talked about how he quit college only to have his heart broken discovering his high school sweetheart was no longer going to be the love of his life. He talked of the several confrontations he had in the local bars back in those days because of his drinking, and his eyes watered up when he discussed the night, he totaled the car while drunk and the family was out of state at the family cottage in northern Wisconsin.

I sat and listened until the point came for me to submit a comment on his stories.

“Charlie, I knew all of that. What I do not know is the why you just packed up and left just weeks after you met that gal, Rebecca. Did something happen?”

“Oh that, yes something did happen,” he casually responded. “She got pregnant. She was not happy about it while I was excited yet scared to death of becoming a father. Then she decided to get an abortion without ever talking to or telling me.”

“Wow, that is emotionally heavy.”

“I became very depressed and embarrassed to be dumped on again. The only way out I saw seemed to be just to wonder off and never look back.”

As we finished eating and headed to the pickup, he continued to explain how he just packed up his car and headed southwest into Kansas where an old friend from his days with Radio Shack was living and said he would have a job for him if he came. Six months later that friend moved on to Colorado, leaving my friend Charlie in Kansas with yet another significant other who got pregnant.

After I got back on the interstate, Charlie continued explaining how the lady in Kansas, and he got married and had a couple of kids. After five or six years of a seemingly blissful family life, he caught her messing with one of their best friends.

It was at that point that Charlie told me he made a huge change and once he got custody of his two kids, he took them with him to the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains to the town of Whitewater off Highway 50, 10 miles southeast of Grand Junction.

He found himself a job writing for the local paper and doing public relations for an area non-profit while changing his first name to Liam, which was short for his middle name of William. With the last name of Scott, he figured that slight change would make it harder to find him because anybody that knew him back in the day would ever think of it due to his dislike of others doing the same to the name of William.

Except for his brother’s high school graduation and wedding, both of which Charlie just would show up, attend and then be gone, he had no contact with his family for most of thirty years.

Since he left, his folks moved from southern Minnesota where they lived when Charlie left, to Central South Dakota, eastern Missouri and then back to Iowa.

As we crossed the Missouri River from Nebraska into Iowa, I took a turn north as Charlie’s folks now lived in Onawa, Iowa just north of Omaha along Interstate 29.

“How do I explain to them the shame I felt and just utter distrust in myself of ever living up to their standards or those of my siblings?”

“We will figure it out Charlie,” I said calmly as I reached over and griped his shoulder in support.

“How did you get involved with all this again since you still live in Minnesota?”

“Like I said, we were like brothers, and they turned to me often after you up and disappeared. For years they contacted me monthly to see how I was doing with hopes that I might have heard from you. Your folks always figured if you would contact anybody, it would be with me.”

“I thought about it Paul,” Charlie said with a hint of regret in his voice. “So many times, I thought about it, but I figured I had let you down as well. I am really happy for you that your life turned out well and you have a great family to keep you going.”

“Yes, I do, and we talked about that,” I said. “You and I can catch up later on, right now, we need to make things right with you and your folks.”

“You know I have been checking on them through the wonderful world of the internet, something which we did not have back in our days.”

“Really, so you knew where they were and how they were doing?”

“Somewhat. I knew where they were, but I did not know about the health issues. I really miss my brother and two sisters too.”

Finally, Charlie was showing the emotion I was hoping he would find. The emotion of regret and sorrow that will lead to his asking for forgiveness.

As we pulled off the interstate at the Onawa interchange, I turned to Charlie and said, “You do understand that they do not know we are showing up today? I have not talked to them in several weeks and they do not know I went looking for you.”

“Yep, you explained all that back in Whitewater after showing up at my door. This may be the best way to do it, because my mom always would go overboard when company was coming. You think we should’ve brought my kids with me?”

“Yes and no. Yes, because they are their grandkids, and no because they are still in school, and your wife was more than willing to take care of them until you get back.”

As I drove into Onawa, Iowa on Highway 175, I took a left onto north 15^th Street and up a few blocks before I turned to Charlie and noted,

“There it is, the church your dad is pastor at.”

I pulled into the parking lot of the church where I saw Charlie’s dads car and as I pulled up next to it Charlie let out a big sigh.

“We are here, now it is time for me to fess up and face the hurt I caused them,” he said in and around several very deep breaths.

“We are going in to see your dad first, if you look across the parking lot at that red brick house with the chain link fence around it, that is their home.”

We entered the church and walked up to the door of the pastor’s office. As we knocked his dads voice simply said, "its open come on in."

I opened the door and stepped back so that Charlie would be who he saw when he looked up from his desk.

As he began to look up, Charlie simply said, “Hi Dad, I missed you.”

Charlies dad let out a wailing of absolute joy and excitement as he nearly knocked his chair over trying to get up and speed over to Charlie where he wrapped him in a bear style hug as he broke into a river of tears.

It was then he saw me and all he did was smile and throw me a quiet nod of thank you. I simply smiled back and returned him a nod meaning, no problem.

“We have so much to catch up on. Does your mom know you are here?”

“No dad, we came here first so that we could talk before dealing with mom,” Charlie replied.

As his dad stepped back while still holding Charlies arms in his hands, he responded, “No, we can talk later, whatever you have to say I will say is forgiven. My son is home and that is all that matters now. You are home, our hearts can heal and we can celebrate your return. Come let us go tell your mom you are back.”

“Are you sure dad, I have so much to say and apologize for,” Charlie said while still holding onto tears of sadness and joy.

I spoke up, saying, “Charlie, remember the stories about the prodigal son. I do believe you are witnessing a current version of it, and it is exactly as I expected it to be from your folks because that is the way they are.”

Charlie just looked at me and shook his head in understanding.

“Okay Dad, let’s go see Mom.”

Seeing his mom for the first time in thirty years, the experience was much the same as with his dad. As I sat in the room watching the event come to life, my heart filled with gladness as Charlie’s parents were living a modern-day prodigal son experience.

Eventually over the next few days, Charlie and his parents spent hours discussing all that had happened when he left so suddenly and the twenty years since he last saw them at his brother’s wedding.

It was then that I headed back to my own life in southern Minnesota where my own wife and family were anxiously awaiting my return, and since I was also a Pastor, I knew the whole experience would give me many blessings and even more sermon ideas.

As for my friend Charlie, his parents took a three-week hiatus from the church and drove him back to Colorado themselves, stopping along the way to visit two of his three siblings who lived along the route.

I heard that the visit in Colorado went very well, and his parents were thrilled to have a couple of more grandkids to spoil, while I was grateful that my friend, my brother from a previous life was back within the good graces of his family and back being a part of my life as well.

Four months later, I was honored to preach at his dad’s church in Iowa and with Charlie, his kids and wife in the front pew next to my own family, I talked at length about how no matter what the circumstances may be, family is family, and every family has a prodigal son moment where the love of forgiveness is more powerful than any guilt or anger.