I was always happy in my family's home. It was just my father, my older brother, and me, because my mother died when I was very young. I had everything I wanted — food, comfort, and care — and I felt like the center of my own little universe.

One day I decided that I ready to take on the world. I didn't think my father had anything more to teach me. I'd grown used to my comfortable life and I was hungry for something greater. So on the day I came of age, during the dinner my father held to celebrate my birthday, I asked him for my share of the inheritance as a gift.

My father was saddened, but he didn't hesitate to give me what I asked for. He helped me pack my things, gave me one of his horses, blessed me, and watched me leave. Even once I was far from my father's house, I could still feel his gaze, as if he were asking God not to leave me alone.

I left full of good intentions: I wanted to start my own ventures and come home surrounded by riches and gifts for my father. But I was hardly prepared for what awaited me. Drunk on the euphoria of my newfound "freedom," I started spending my money on gambling, games, and pleasures. Every day I told myself it would be the last night of excess, that I'd start working the next morning. But that morning never came. And long before I expected it, the money ran out.

Questions to consider in your prayer

How do you use the material goods that God and your family have given you? Do you take care of them so they last as long as possible?

Reflect on how you spend money. Is it out of need or impulse? Do you ever choose not to buy something you want? How do you live the virtue of Christian poverty Jesus calls us to?

The people I considered friends disappeared almost as fast as the money did. I soon found out what it meant to be alone and lost, with no direction and no family, far from home. I spent two days unable to get out of bed, but on the third day, hunger forced me to look for some way to survive. I went to the owner of the inn where I was staying and asked him for work. At first he looked at me with suspicion, and I couldn't blame him: for months he'd watched me come back to my room every day in a sorry state. In the end, he agreed to let me tend his pigs. In exchange, he'd let me sleep in the stable and give me whatever was left over from the inn's kitchen.

My life changed completely. I was always hungry. Even on the days when a little bread and cheese were left over, there was rarely enough to satisfy my stomach. In the stable, rats spent the whole night running between my legs and over my head, and the smell of the animals soaked into my clothes. My old life in my father's house felt like a distant dream.

One of those hot afternoons, as I watched — almost with envy — the pigs eating their fill, I remembered my father's hired workers, and how he treated them like family. They never lacked for anything. As time went on, I found myself thinking more and more often of my old home and my family. But I didn't dare think about going back: the thought filled me with shame, because I didn't feel able to face my father and brother.

One sleepless night, kept awake by hunger, I left the stable before sunrise. Sitting on the fence, looking out at the horizon, my father's face came to mind with great clarity. I pictured his calm smile. Seeing him so vividly in my memory stirred something so strong in me that I finally gave in and accepted that it was possible for me to going home. I would go back — I thought — not expecting to be welcomed as a son, but as just another hired hand. I packed my things, said goodbye to the innkeeper, and set out on the road back to my homeland.

Questions to consider in your prayer

When you make a mistake, are you ashamed to turn to God again? Do you doubt His mercy?

Do you go to the sacrament of reconciliation (confession), trusting in the grace it gives to strive again with new strength?

My heart pounded when I caught sight of my family's land in the distance. I felt a burst of new energy and I hardly noticed the soreness in my legs as I covered the last few miles. As I drew closer, I began to make out familiar details: the stables to the east, and my father's house facing west.

Suddenly, a figure appeared before me. From far off, I couldn't tell who it was, but he began walking toward me quickly. I quickened my pace too. When I was about a hundred meters away, I recognized my father. As I looked more closely, I understood why I hadn't recognized him sooner: his steps were brisk, nothing like the slow, halting walk of old age. He was almost running toward me.

When he finally stood before me, I fell to my knees at his feet. With my eyes closed, I began to say the words I had rehearsed the whole way home: "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired workers." But my father didn't even let me finish. With a strength beyond his years, he lifted me up and embraced me. In his face, I found no reproach: not a trace of judgment, not a single word of condemnation. He welcomed me with the unconditional love only a father can give.

Many years have passed since that day. My older brother and I have carried on our father's land, and our family's wealth has grown. My father has since passed away, and I still miss him. But every day I remember his understanding and his genuine love; how he was able to see, in my weakness, a chance to lift me up and welcome me home. I hope that one day I can be like him.

Questions to consider in your prayer

Are you quick to forgive others? Do you understand that others make mistakes too, and love them even for their flaws and weaknesses?

Are you aware that holiness isn't perfection, but a daily struggle? Do you ask God for help to get back up every time you fall?