Are you one who gets excited to fix broken stuff? Can you part with items that simply do not function anymore? Some folks really find joy in diagnosing and fixing up and repairing….and then there’s me. I once declared our dishwasher as a goner and insisted that it simply could not be fixed. My husband tried to trouble shoot it but alas, all attempts to make it function failed. Bought a new fancy high dollar dishwasher, installed it, pretty impressed with its shiny new features, turned it on. Uh, it wouldn’t turn on. Tried this, tried that, looked at each other, shook heads and exchanged unpleasantries.

The end result? It was simply a power issue. DeWayne had checked breakers, but everything seemed okay in the kitchen. In a last resort attempt he returned to the breaker box to discover that one of the breakers was non-functional. Replace that breaker, and like magic all was well.

Perhaps we gave up too soon. It’s easy to do, isn’t it?

There are other situations in our lives that cause a lot more pain than broken “stuff”. The worst, most painful, being broken people. Broken family, broken children.

My niece was born when I was 5 years old. She was more of a sister to me in the early years, living next door to us for a few years. Mary was gorgeous, so intelligent, sang with a voice so pure and lovely. I was her pianist and the best times we had were making music. She was kind of legendary in our little hometown where everyone wanted to hear her sing.

When Mary was 17 she left home. Drugs claimed her soul. She was in and out of the lives of her two children and the rest of her family who loved her so much. Sometimes we didn’t know her whereabouts for months on end.

We couldn’t really “find” her, even during the brief times when she was back with us. Treatment attempts happened and there were times she was clean and sober for many months. Those were treasured times of hope. Treasured, and brief.

Mary had a gift of loving older people and her times of employment always involved caring for the elderly. Those folks cherished her care and she was loved. She was a truly kind person.

As the years went on her brokenness spread to every one who loved her. It’s hard for me to describe just how helpless and shattered we felt as we simply could not reach her. Help her. Fix her. Did we give up? I want to say we didn’t, but truthfully we really had to detach and distance and let her go to a certain extent. Do you know what I’m talking about? Addiction seeks to destroy everyone in its path. God gave us grace to detach and not become collateral casualties.

Did we stop loving her? Absolutely not. Did we stop praying for her? Absolutely not.

Did God give up on her?

Many years passed, and she did start communicating more with her mom, my sister. Mary experienced some serious health complications which resulted in an extended stay in ICU in Colorado. She left the hospital with a heart that was not functioning fully, requiring a pacemaker, internal defibrillator and heart meds. Her body was pretty frail and broken, but she was alive. She was alive.

Around the time she was turning 60 years old, she called her mom. “I need to come home. I can’t stay clean here in Colorado.”

That was five years ago. She did come home. She returned to her hometown and had an actual address in her own apartment.

Her elderly frail parents embraced her, killed the fattened calf, welcomed her with open arms. She was faithful to visit them and care for them as they needed help. Drugs tried to claim her, but they failed to change her loving nature. Jesus became real to her again. Jesus redeemed her. It’s what he does.

Do the math. Age 17 to age 60 as a broken lost drug addict. 43 years. Forty-three years.

In one of the last conversations I had with Mary, we hugged each other warmly and I told her how thankful I was for her return. I told her that I was so thankful for a second chance and I wanted to love her better this time.

Did you notice the word “last” in that paragraph? After five years of being home and restoring her relationship with her family and God, her heart failed. She passed away a few days before her 65th birthday.

We had a family gathering to honor Mary, and share memories. Her siblings spoke through tears. Her brother David’s words were particularly touching. Nothing was as meaningful as the words of her daughter Abbi, who said that she had forgiven her mom long ago. But during the last five years she was able to drop the anger towards her mom. Abbi was by her side when she passed, and had really attended to her mom’s needs. Do I believe in miracles? Yes indeed, oh yes indeed.

So back to an earlier question: Did God give up on her? He was bombarded by our anguished prayers and tears. At times it seemed like He had.

But: When it seems like there is nothing happening, and nothing we can do, it DOES NOT MEAN THAT NOTHING IS BEING DONE!! We have a Savior who is working on our behalf. Always. Even when we can’t see it, He’s working, even when we can’t feel it, He’s working. He never stops working.

The reason I’m sharing this is to testify about how God brought our prodigal home. And “home” is heaven. I’m so thankful that he allowed us to have her back with us on her way “home.”

Jesus is the answer. Speak his name over your prodigal. His name is power, healing, life.

Don’t give up. Not so fast, friend.

“And the enemy thought he had me but Jesus said YOU ARE MINE!” (Song Lyrics from “Back to Life”…..thanks to my daughter Jolie for sharing)