COMING TO MYSELF

     In the Bible story of the prodigal son, one translation says the wasteful son “came to himself”, as though, in the midst of the confusion and dissipation of his life, he suddenly came face to face with his actual self – with who he truly was. I was thinking of that story this morning, and it reminded me of a conversation I had years ago with a friend who had suffered through a long and enormous sorrow. He said that, to his surprise, his sorrow had actually helped him understand who he was. He was a very successful teacher and devoted family man, and yet he said that only through this recent suffering had he gotten a glimpse of his true nature, and even a small glimpse of the nature of reality itself. He said it seemed like he’d been blind all his life, and now, in the calm after all this sorrow, he could suddenly see. I remember that something in his eyes seemed resplendent when he said that, and he smiled like a man re-made, which astonished me, because I knew the devastating nature of his sorrow. Like the prodigal son, his anguish had somehow shown him how to “come to himself”.

     Strange, that at 72, I’m still searching for my true self. I’m sure it will be something surprising, and perhaps beautiful, when I finally find it. When I do, I’ll think of the reborn Bible son and my suffering but thankful friend.