Prodigal

I went to mass today.  This is the third week in a row.  I took the summer off and let's be honest, most of the spring and a lot of last winter as well.  But I'm back and am giving it the ole college try (which means I should last about six weeks before dropping out).  I go alone and sit against the wall right next to the Blessed Sacrament Chapel.  I choose to sit there because I am a safe distance from White Diamonds or any other dangerous scent.  Sometimes I feel like a jerk, like I don't want to be part of the congregation, but since I am alone, it is important that I don't get boxed in with bad perfume on too many sides of me.   Though if I did have an allergic reaction, I think every third member is a doctor so someone could administer the epi injection.
Today's gospel was an oldie but a goody, the triple parable.  Missing sheep, missing coin, self centered son.  This one has always given me some struggle.  I understand why the shepherd went looking for his one lost sheep.  I would have gone looking as well.  But why in the world doesn't he have some dogs working for him.  A couple of Anatolian shepherds and those sheep won't be going anywhere.  If the shepherd weren't Jewish, he could have even trained a pig to keep the sheep in line.  It worked beautifully for Farmer Arthur H. Hoggett.  I don't know if I would have gone as far as to have swept the whole house for a missing coin, but I do check Jacob's pockets for loose change. (And I keep it).  But the prodigal son always seemed unfair.  As I have grown (up and in my faith) I have come to realize that the son that stayed with the father has always been promised an inheritance, but the one that came home after laying with whores and pigs, well, there was reason to celebrate (after he showered, of course).  And as a parent, I would celebrate the return of my child.  As a parent, I do celebrate the return of my child and they never left me, they just went to college. 
And now I am returning.  I am not the prodigal son by any means, I am the lazy daughter.  I am the child that hits snooze on a Sunday morning because I cannot hit it during the week.   I am full of excuses and it really is quite pathetic, especially when I see all these people filling the pews with unruly kids in tow.  I don't have any problem making date night on Wednesday so I don't see why a Sunday morning meal is any more difficult. 
It is my own doing that I go alone.  I never made Sunday mass a priority.  I never made it a part of our week.  It was always hit and miss, more miss.  I don't even know how important I made God in our lives.  I would mulligan that, if I could.  I would have made Sunday mornings a ritual of getting dressed up and celebrating mass followed by breakfast.  We did that frequently in Cedar Rapids and Happy Chef was usually where we ended up!

So back to the prodigal child that I am.  There was no fatted calf roasting in celebration of my return.  But I liked being back and I am pretty sure that The Lord is glad I am back.  I know that I don't have to be in a church on Sunday to praise The Lord, but much like a fine meal, it is better when it is shared.  I think that's where the fatted calf comes in.