Finding Gold!

My new husband has a very interesting hobby. He likes to dig for gold. He is even a part of a gold association here in town and just the other weekend we went out and tried to find some gold in the Pilar area. If you haven't been there, it is a beautiful mountainous area where the Rio Grande flows. Lots of canyons and fresh air. It is definitely God's country... wild, free, and just breath takingly gorgeous. So while my cowboy digs and digs I enjoy the beauty that surrounds me and the love that I feel deep inside and out. Sometimes I enjoy a good book.

 But when the digging is over, I do enjoy the panning part of finding the gold because it fascinates me that there is actually little specs of gold in the dirt. All you need to do is wash out the dirt and poof, you find gold. Well, finding the gold isn't always that easy since it is hiding as little specs rather than big nuggets. Imagaine! Shiny little gold specs in a big pile of dirt. FASCINATING!! I NEVER knew there was gold in the dirt I walked on. Looking at the pile of dirt I would never have guessed that a precious metal lived and hid in the dirt!

And so when I sit there panning the dirt searching for little specs of gold it reminds me of something special. So special that I smile and laugh and just fill with joy when I find the little specs of gold. WHY? Because that something special is me and it is you! Think about it. Don't we all have a little gold in us too? That little spec of precious shiny stuff inside of us, hiding in the dirt. Sometimes we focus so much on the dirt that we don't realize that there is gold in there. Sometimes the dirt seems so heavy and dense that there is no way gold can be hiding in there. Or sometimes we think our dirt is too dirty, so why would something so beautiful, so precious and so valuable be hiding there? Or worse, maybe we know about the gold inside of us but we hide it! We hide it because our specs are not as big as the others. Or we think our shiny precious light is not enough so we pretend we don't have any.

Maybe what is even worse than that, is when we do discover our gold and we share it with other people, but instead of accepting it as a precious gift, they laugh at us! They tell us our gold is too small, or not enough. Or they get scared and tell us to hide it because the world just doesn't want our gold. Or they become angry and jealous because they don't want to discover thier own gold, or compare ours to theirs and find thiers inadequate so they make us feel inadequate. The best solution then is to keep our gold secret and keep showing off our dirt instead. So that others are not threatened or angry with us. How sad but true! Here is why....

When I sit and pan for gold in all that dirt my honey dug from the earth, I am reminded that I do have gold inside of me whether I like it or not. It doesn't matter what I think or what others think, I DO HAVE GOLD INSIDE OF ME hiding in my dirt, in all my ugliness. And that is a beautiful thing! My gold is a shiny spec of joy--It is when I find hope in hopeless situations--It is when I love myself and others-- And it is when I do the right thing and stand for the right purpose regardless of the ridicule I will receive. Sometimes I am afraid to show my gold to the world. I don't think it is big enough or shiny enough. Sometimes I just want to be liked by others that I hide my gold because I don't want to be laughed at or judged.

As I write those words, those truthful and hurtful words, I know how wrong it is to hide my gold from the world. That I am not doing the world an ounce of good by hiding and pretending. But I find my dirt too comfortable. You see, my dirt is my shame. Shame of my past, shame of who I am. And so I can't let my gold shine through because I believe that I am not worthy. You see, the dirt, the shame, is so thick and dense sometimes that I don't see the gold. Sometimes I forget it's there. Even though I smile and do my best to enjoy life, the dirt is there, hiding my gold, my true joy and love. I know my gold is seen by those close to me and who love me dearly, and when I am alone working on myself, I too see it. But to really let the world know about the little specs in all that dirt? I just don't know if I am brave enough yet. All I know is that it is there. It is in you too. And maybe when we summon up the courage to let the world know, maybe the world won't laugh. Maybe the world will say, "Me too!" and then when we encounter one another, we will see the gold that is there, hiding in the dirt, and smile with joy and love, rather than with disgust and judgement. Even if the gold is tiny little specs. We will notice them in others because we know it is in us. And then we can stop the hiding and the pretending and just let our gold shine!

The Prodigal Son

There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, "Father, give me my share of the estate." So he divided his property between them.
Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything , there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent hime to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
When he came to his senses, he said, "How many of my father's hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death!" I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: "Father, I have wronged you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men." So he got up and went to his father.
But while he was still a long way off , his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
The son said to him, "Father, I have wronged you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son."
But the father said to his servants, "Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For his son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost an is found." So they began to celebrate...

What a wonderful story right? Don't you love stories where there is a happy ending. Son goes off and lives "wildly" and then returns home to a dad who not only takes him back, but shows compassion and unconditional love. A story where everything seems to work out perfectly. But when I read this story I read so much more than a happy ending. What I see is a story of pain and loss. I see a story of faith and hope. I see a story of a dad whose wisdom and patience is so counter culture that it really makes me think of my own situtation with my younger son.

When the younger son asks for his inheritance there is no questions asked, no judgement of how greedy the son is being. The dad divides his property and gives his son's their share. I know I am sepculating here, but maybe the dad saw that his son was in some sort of need, or maybe it was just time to allow his son's to grow up and take over their own lives. Whatever the reason, it amazes me how the dad handles this situation of giving his son's what they may or may not have deserved. As a dad it was in his best interest to provide for his son's and to be there for their requests.

When the younger son leaves and starts to spend his wealth on "wild living," I am taken back to what the dad must have felt. Was he angry he left? Was he disappointed that his son was "living wildly?" Was he scared his son would never come back? Was he worried his son would die in choosing to live so care free and wild? I do not know. All I know is that I would be feeling all those emotions if my son left and lived "wildly." I would try to control him and help him. I would plea and beg him not to live so crazy. I would lecture and ground him. I would probably look at him in disgust and wonder how he could be so selfish, so greedy and so dumb!! I would be angry at him for spending all I worked for. There would be NO WAY IN HELL I would accept him back. Right??

But why? Why does the son want to come back? Why does he think of his dad when he is in need? And isn't that typical? You know what I mean, those people who only seem to call when they are in need? Don't we all have someone in our life who seems to be that way? And are we not irritated by their request and feel used by them? Don't we demand that they grow up and learn how to fend for themselves? Of course we do! But what the dad does here in this story is so graceful, so compassionate, I want to call him a pushover and an enabler. But when I really think about it, that's not what is really going on is it?

After the pain and loss of loosing his son to wild living, it appears to me that the dad doesn't really give a squat about the money the son spent. In fact the dad seems to have been doing fine considering he still had servants and land. So the dad was not angry at all about the money, but I do speculate he was hurting that his son left and was living life counter to how he was raised. I suspect there was pain and loss here because I too understand the pain and loss when your child decideds to live life defiantly and become out of control. As a parent you want to take control of the situation and make everything okay. As a mom I want to hold my baby and protect him from the world. But we all know that is just naive and unrealistic. The truth is that we all have to let our babies go when they say they want to go and live their own life. Even if that means squandering their resources on wild living? Hmmmm, I am not so sure....

As a parent you don't want to see your children suffer. You don't want to see them make poor choices that will effect them for the rest of their life. See, I did not like this dad at all. I did not like that he allowed his son to go off and live life "wildly" and then take him back so lovingly, because it made me feel that I was doing everything wrong in my own situation with my son. Not only that, but this story seemed so out of touch with reality. I mean, didn't it seem more like a fairy tale ending than anything else? I have heard of stories like this before but the son did not come to his senses. The son did not return. I have heard of stories ending with the son commiting suicide, whether intentional or not, of the son spending time in prison, of the son who continues to steal, lie and live wildly...stories ending with him NEVER coming to his senses and returning home! So again, I ask why? Why did this son come to his senses and was able to feel comfortable enough to come home?

Could it be because of his dad? Because his dad NEVER judged him, NEVER questioned him, NEVER looked at him with disgust. Was it because his dad was so caring and loving that he knew his dad would always be there NO MATTER WHAT?  And what about the idea of the dad just letting his son go with no guilt or chasing after him? The dad just waiting... hoping.... praying... that he would in fact come home. The dad must have had A LOT of faith. Faith that his son would come to his senses. Faith that everything would turn out okay. Even if there were times when it seemed so hopeless, he continued to hope, dream and live in faith that everything would be okay... even if that meant life with a broken heart, but somehow he would still be okay.

How do I know he lived this way? Did you read that part of the story? The part when it says, "But while he (the son) was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." I can infer that the dad was looking for his son everyday because it was when the son was still a long way off that he noticed him. Everyday, the father looking at the empty space of land, watching and praying that he would see his son return. The father missing him. The father hoping he was okay. The father living life in faith regardless of how many people told him to give up. To let his son go. That his son was a menace and there was no hope for him. Everyday searching the empty land. He knew that the odds were against them. He knew most stories ended tragedly, but he kept on holding on to hope. He kept loving and praying for his son.

Oh the joy when that day arrived!! That day when he saw a long way off, a familiar face. A face full of regret, pain and suffering, but that old familiar face he still recognized none the less, and so he filled his heart with compassion! No anger. No hurt. No judgement or disgust. Only compassion. So he ran. He ran like he never ran before. His heart whole once more. His faith becomes reality.No words spoken, only threw his arms around him and kissed him!! All that was left to be done was celebrate the return of a lost child.

There are no guarntees in this life. If only there were. So we live by faith or we choose to live with negativty and resentments. There is no guarantee that my son will someday come to his senses and become the man he was destined to become. There is no guarantee that I will be around when that day comes. But let it be known that I too choose to live in faith that he will in fact, one day, come to his senses and stop living life so miserably. And if that day never comes, let it be known, that like the father in the story, I will always love him and I will always be his mother. Everyday searching the empty space of land, watching, waiting, praying and hoping....