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The Voice Piece
Restoration of Faith

Restoration of Faith

A prodigal short story by guest author

Melody Polar's avatar
Melody Polar
Nov 15, 2024
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The Voice Piece
The Voice Piece
Restoration of Faith
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Cross-post from The Voice Piece
I was unsure whether I should cross post this or just link to it in my next newsletter. Since the newsletter is a long way off, I decided to go ahead and cross post. This is a short story I wrote for my AP Literature class, and I was privileged to able to share it on The Voice Piece this week! I hope this contemporization of the parable of the prodigal son will bring some encouragement to your day! -
Melody Polar

I was trying my best to remain calm, but it wasn’t working. Three days. That's all the time I had left.

When Mr. Gordon raised the rent, it had left me floundering, even though I knew it was necessary. It wasn't his fault that inflation had gone up. It wasn't his fault that Lucius had left me. It wasn't his fault that my pay could barely keep Nicky and me alive.

I knew it wouldn't last forever, too. When I first found Mr. Gordon's apartment for rent, the price was the lowest I could find, and even then it was almost more than I could afford. He had been kind to Nicky and me. He watched out for us, kept the maintenance up, and all that, but with the recession, well, everyone was raising prices. And sadly, I couldn't afford them. 

I had had two weeks to figure out some way to pay the rent or find somewhere else to go. Unfortunately, those things were easier said than done. I now had three days left, and the money wasn’t there. Nor did I have a place to go once the allotted time ran out.  

"Mommy?"

I brushed the tears away, but she knew. She always knew.

"Why are you crying, Mommy?"

I looked down at Nicky's wondering five-year-old eyes. It was like she could see into my soul; somehow, she always sensed when something was wrong. How was I supposed to admit to my daughter that we were going to lose our home? That I couldn't afford it?

"I'm not crying."

She gave me that look. She knew I was crying. She could see the tears, for goodness sake! Oh, why did I tell stupid lies?

“Well, honey, I . . ." I gulped. I might as well tell the truth, because she was going to find out sooner or later, anyway. "I can't afford the rent anymore, so we're going to have to leave the apartment."

"Oh.” Innocence radiated from her voice. 

I sighed. She didn't understand. She was too young.

Nicky smiled up at me and gave me a hug before going back to her room. "It's ok, Mommy."

I fell back on the couch and went back to pitying myself. I couldn't pay the rent. I couldn't get a decent job. Couldn't support my own daughter, let alone myself. Couldn't even keep a husband.

I had thought Lucuis was the perfect guy. His smile always made me feel secure inside. His eyes always seemed to see everything, the way his daughter’s did now. His words were what won me over. He told me many times over that I was the most beautiful girl in all of New York. Turns out he never meant it; it was all a flattering facade!

I should've listened to Caleb. He had warned me that Lucuis didn’t mean what he said. That he wasn’t responsible enough to actually be a good husband. But what did my brother know? I thought I knew better. I was certain Lucius meant every word; to me, he was Prince Charming.

My parents had warned me too. They could see under Lucuis’s facade. They warned me, like Caleb did, that Lucuis was not a responsible young man. Nor was he a Christian.

That's all they were worried about: his religion. But I didn’t care. By that time I had given up Christianity; all the words were nice, but they were also impractical. I didn’t care about that kind of stuff. All I cared about was that a guy was finally interested in me. In fact, I was so sure that I was willing to leave my parents behind in order to go with Lucuis.

My delusion hadn't lasted long though. Nicky was on the way when he decided to leave. It was only six months after we’d eloped. Turns out, my family was right about the responsibility thing. Lucuis for sure didn’t have it, and he wasn’t willing to try. When Nicky made her grand entrance into the world, all ties to my old life were gone. My husband had left, and my family — well, I wasn’t going to speak to them after the fights we’d had.

So here I was: broken, depressed, and about to lose our home. I had no place to go. After the things I had said to my parents, there was no way they would want me to come back. I shouldn’t have said them; the only reason I had was because I was angry and knew it would hurt my parents. And they were hurt. I had seen pain in both their faces and my brother’s that night we had clashed.

I couldn’t stop pitying myself tonight. I was distracted by my thoughts during dinner and while I was cleaning up afterward. I even skipped telling Nicky a story when I put her to bed because I was so depressed. And as I lay in my bed dozing off, I was still pitying myself.

Then I opened my eyes and saw my father. "Daddy?"

He didn't look up. Didn't even flinch. Did he hear me?

"Daddy?"

Still nothing. 

I watched him. I hadn't seen him in years, and I missed him so much.

He was standing by a barbed wire fence trying to untangle a dog that had foolishly gotten stuck in it. Beside him stood a little dark-haired girl. Who was she?

As she turned, I recognized the face. Those brown eyes and the crooked teeth? They were my own. 

I remembered now. This was the day Daisy had run away from Daddy when he had tried to give her a bath. She had run straight into the barbed wire fence, and Daddy and I had had to get her out.

"Faith."

I looked at him, but Daddy wasn't talking to me. Well, he was, but he was talking to six-year-old me.

"Faith, clip the wire above Daisy's head there."

She did — or I did, I guess — and Daisy wiggled out of the fence. 

Daddy began to pet her head. "Good girl, Daisy. It's ok now."

"But, Daddy!" the younger me exclaimed. "You can't tell her she's a good girl! It's her fault she got into this mess!"

Daddy smiled. 

And then he was gone as I opened my eyes again. I was in my bed. I must have been dreaming.

I thought back to what had happened that day eighteen years ago. Daddy had told me that even though Daisy had done something wrong, he wasn't going to stay mad at her over it. How could he? She had gotten badly hurt because of her decision, and he was the only one who could have saved her. He chose to forgive and comfort her.

He told me it was like how Jesus loved us and forgave us when we ran away. Even though we got ourselves into awful situations when we sinned, Jesus still loved us and would help us if we only turned to Him.

Back then, I was content with that answer. As I got older, however, I had begun to think my father was foolish when he said that sort of thing. I thought forgiveness was silly, and so I laughed at my dad.

But oh how I could use that forgiveness now! Maybe Daddy was still like that?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. The black screen of my cell-phone stared up at me from my nightstand. Did I dare pick up that phone? What choice did I have?

I slowly unplugged my phone and unlocked it. My contacts list scrolled ominously past my eyes. Did I still have the number? There it was.

I hesitated. What if he has a different number now? What if he hangs up on me?

I quickly hit the call button before I could talk myself out of it. The phone rang and rang. Finally, he picked up!

"Hello, this is Daniel Richardson's phone."

"Yes, this is . . . "

But it was just his voicemail. "Please wait for the beep, and then leave a message," my dad's voice finished.

Beep.

"Daddy . . ." I didn't know what to say. What had I been thinking? I almost hung up, but something stopped me. "Daddy, this is Faith. I know you're probably mad at me, but I need somewhere to stay right now. Lucius is gone, and I can't afford rent anymore. I thought I might come up and find a motel to stay in. I don't know if you'll want to see me — or my daughter — but I'd thought maybe you and Mom might want to see us while we're there?"

Then I hung up. Why in the world had I done that? Was it really the only option left? I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go or anything else to do, but I wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of returning home. But I had already left the message, so I might as well go through with it now. 

The next morning I packed the few belongings Nicky and I had and gave Mr. Gordon back the keys to the apartment. The apartment furnishings were all his anyway, so they didn't matter. I told him where I was headed, and thanked him for how nice he'd been to Nicky and me for the past few years. Then I took Nicky and left for the train station.

"Where are we going, Mommy?" she asked as we boarded the train.

"Well, we're going to visit where I grew up," I said.

"Oh." She nodded her head as if she understood perfectly. "Where will we stay?'

"I'm going to call a motel and get some rooms for us," I explained.

She nodded and turned toward the window as I reached for my phone. It wouldn’t turn on. Great! I had forgotten to plug it in after the call last night. Hopefully, I’d be able to find a motel with a vacancy once we got to New Hope. Hopefully.

"Mommy?" Nicky was tugging on my jacket.

"Yes, honey?"

"Mommy, what are we gonna do where we’re going?"

“Um. . .” I tried to figure it out. I hadn’t actually gotten much farther with my plan than calling Daddy and finding a motel. “I'm not sure yet. We might see some people I used to know. That’s possible.”

"Really? Who?" 

"Well, my parents and brother. And I guess some of my friends from church and school might still live up there."

She looked up at me with big questioning eyes. "Your parents? I’ve never met them before, have I?"
Oh boy. This is just what I needed. “Yeah, well we might meet them while we're up there.” I hoped that would satisfy her.

It didn't. "What are your parents like?"

"Well, they're, um, nice and loving. My dad is tall and has dark hair. And my mom is kind of short and blonde."

Nicky nodded very understandingly. "How come I never met them?"

Boy, she just had to ask all the hard questions, didn't she?

"Well, because they didn't like your father, so they're not very happy with me anymore."

"Why not? How come they aren't happy with you?" Her inquiring face turned up once again.

I sighed. "They just aren't."

"But how do you know?" she pressed.

"Well, because . . . because . . . because I wouldn't be very happy with me. Look, I said some things I shouldn't have said and did some things I shouldn't have done, ok? And so they probably don't like me anymore!"

Her eyes bored into my head. "That's silly! You aren't them, Mommy; you're you." She turned back to watch the scenery out the window.

Maybe it was silly. But maybe it wasn't. I doubted they would show up to see me. Why should they?

I remembered the night I had left. We'd had a big fight over my relationship with Lucuis at dinner. Mom and I had both left in tears, and Dad was so red in the face. I knew he was upset. That was the night Lucius and I had set to elope. Because of the fight, I figured it was best to just leave.  I left a note saying goodbye and sneaked out the back door. After the elopement, we had left for Tennessee, and I hadn't seen my parents since.

"New Hope, New York!" someone shouted over the intercom, jolting me out of my memory.

This was our stop. I woke Nicky up, who had fallen asleep, and got our stuff out of the overhead compartment. Then we disembarked.

And somebody grabbed me around the waist, and I found myself in someone's shoulder.

"We missed you so much, Faith!" Caleb's voice rang in my ear.

I looked up in shock. Everyone was there. My mom was crying on my dad's shoulder. Dad was grinning from ear-to-ear. And smiling down into my face was my handsome older brother.

I set Nicky down as I looked around in confusion. "You're all here. Why are you all here?"

"You called, Faith, remember? And we couldn't let you stay in a motel! We tried to call your phone, but you didn’t pick up, so we decided to come down and surprise you! We want you to come stay at the farm tonight. You can sleep in your old room, and your daughter — by the way, what is her name? — can stay in there with you if she'd like, or we can put her in the guest room," my dad informed me as he wrapped his arms around me and then turned to greet his granddaughter.

"Her name is Nicky . . . I can?" I was still confused.

"Of course you can." My mom was wiping her eyes as she stroked my hair. "Why would you want to waste your money on a motel when you can stay in your own house for free?"

"But I . . . but," I stuttered. "It's still my house? You're not mad at me?"

My dad stood back up and turned toward me, and I could see the tears in his eyes. "Of course we're not mad at you. We missed you so much. We thought you were gone forever, but here you are! You came back!"

I heard a giggle next to me, and I looked down to find Nicky laughing at me. 

"See, Mommy? I told you they weren't you!" she very happily informed me before being scooped up by Mom and covered in kisses.

I couldn't understand. They still loved me? They still wanted me? They weren't mad? The questions played through my mind through the whole trip home in the family van.

"We haven't changed anything," my mom told me quietly as she opened the door to my room. "I'll let you look around while I go show Nicky to her room. You're sure she'll be ok by herself?"

"Uh-huh." I nodded.

"Alright then." She shut the door and left me alone.

She was right: everything was as I left it. My pink quilt that Grandma had given me was still on the bed. My journal — how many times I wished I had taken it with me! — was still laid out on my dresser with some old paints and colored pencils. The plants Caleb had given me when I was younger still sat on the window sill. He — or somebody anyway — must have been taking care of them cause the flowers were in bloom and the leafy plants were still green.

And there, hanging on the wall, was the picture I had colored in Sunday School when I was seven. It portrayed a young man. He was crying as his father was holding him in the tightest hug in the whole world.

 I had taken such great care to color it and make it nice. How proud I was when I showed it to my parents and told them what it was about. "See, Mommy," I had proudly said. "This man thought he could have a better life if he left home, but instead it ruined him. He lost all his money so he had to eat pig food! So, he decided to go home even though he thought his daddy would be mad at him. But instead of being mad at him, his daddy ran and gave him a big hug and then gave a giant feast to welcome him home!" 

Tears began to prick my eyes. I knew that story all too well, because it was my own story. I had left my parents for what I thought was better, and I ended up losing the things that I thought were most important. Yet, even after that, they still loved me. They loved me enough to come meet me at the train station. They loved me enough to bring me home. And they wanted me here. They actually wanted me here.

The tears fell faster. I had been wrong. I had been wrong about everything. The love my family had for me was far stronger than the love Lucius had so heartily proclaimed. In fact, between the two, I'm pretty sure that my family's love was the only love that was ever actually real.

I remembered Dad's story from when Daisy had gotten stuck in the fence. I had laughed at it for many years, but now I understood. The love my father showed Daisy — the love that he said Jesus showed to us — was the love my family had for me. They loved me enough to forgive me for all the hateful words I’d said and the foolish things I’d done.

I was sobbing now. My head was buried in the pillows on my bed. It wasn't silly. It wasn't stupid. No, it was the love I wanted — the love I needed.

"Dear Jesus," I sobbed out. It was the first time I had even thought about praying in a long time. "I understand now! Your love is real! And I need it! Oh, how I need it!" 

The sobs came faster and harder. But this time they weren't from pity or confusion. This time, they were from joy. I understood God's love now, and for the first time in a long time, as I stumbled over the words of the most pitiful prayer you've ever heard, I felt that love. And it was the most wonderful thing I had ever felt in my life. 


Foundation Scriptures:

"I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance."

Luke 15:7 KJV

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

1 John 1:9 KJV

If you would like to read more from guest author

Melody Polar
please visit her Substack!

Roses In A Thorny World
Embracing the true beauty that comes from following Jesus while navigating this thorny world.
By Melody Polar

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Thank you for reading and God Bless!

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The Voice Piece
The Voice Piece
Restoration of Faith
10
7
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A guest post by
Melody Polar
༺ 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 / 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 ༻ 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 ♡ ❇Ⓜ︎Ⓤ︎Ⓢ︎Ⓘ︎Ⓒ︎ Ⓘ︎Ⓢ︎ Ⓜ︎Ⓨ︎ Ⓛ︎Ⓘ︎Ⓕ︎Ⓔ︎❇
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