Unchained

We are deeply blessed to be a family that has been restored. That does not mean we are perfect—far from it. We all have our flaws and moments of disagreement. But our core is strong love and a sense of loyalty to one another, born from our commitment to stand together even when the going gets very tough.

On a pretty regular basis, the phone rings and the voice on the other end is a parent seeking help for an adult child who is making addiction-fueled choices that are causing chaos and misery for their entire family.

These parents have heard from a friend of a friend about the turnaround in JP’s life and ours. They always have a lot of questions about how it took place and what they need to do to make it happen. I can always hear the fear in their voices because by the time they call, things have gone pretty far downhill.

Coupled with that fear is also a flicker of hope that they too will see their beloved son or daughter grab hold of a new way of life and survive. Whenever these calls come in, they are an immediate priority. When the conversation ends, I always try to stop and reflect on the family’s needs. And in that pause, I always feel a powerful outpouring of gratitude in my heart for how it all worked out for us. The gratitude leads me to pray for that family’s moment of homecoming.

If I could capture an image of our family’s homecoming, it would be what I saw at our recent Fourth of July party in Rhode Island. The Fourth of July is a big deal for our family—well I guess it’s fair to say we love to celebrate all holidays. On that day, our house was filled with lots of family and friends, lots of food, and lots of laughter. For just a moment, I stepped back from the busyness of getting out food for a hungry crowd of twenty-five and saw an answer to desperate prayers from years before. Sitting in a circle of white chairs on our lawn overlooking the pond, enjoying a red, white, and blue beauty of a day, were Joe, JP, Jim, Tara, Paul, Molly, JP’s fiancé Jess, and JP’s business partner Rich and his wife, Lee. Across the yard Grace, her cousins, and family friends were playing a lively game of Heads Up.

The homecoming was right before my eyes.

Homecoming implies that a home leaving has taken place. For some families, it’s as simple as packing up the car with suitcases and dropping their son off at summer camp, or college, or a trip backpacking through Europe. That’s the pretty straightforward rite of passage many young adults and their families make. For JP, the journey of home leaving was a wrenching experience that took us all to a razor’s edge.

In Luke’s gospel, the Prodigal Son, through the grace of God, has his moment of metanoia, the Greek word meaning conversion of heart. The son—who chose insult, self-exile, and a life of dissolution—realizes his destiny was not to be scrounging with pigs for food. He experiences a moment of clarity and heads home to be welcomed back by his father, who has been watching and waiting. In our family’s story, God’s grace brought that metanoia moment to JP’s heart, leading to his homecoming and, ultimately, a path of service to others through the wisdom accrued on his own journey. All the paths—however twisted and rubble-strewn—brought us to that gorgeous July day. When the food was ready, the twenty-five of us gathered in a circle around the picnic table for Joe to lead us in a blessing.

It does not get any better than that.

Excerpted from "Unchained" by Nancy Vericker.

Republished with permission. Originally published in 2018.