There’s big. There’s huge. Then there’s ridiculously massive. I refer to the teddy bear Tim bought for his two girls, Ava and Emma.

Once home, the bear was an immediate hit: a friend at play, a guest at dinner, and a comfort at bedtime. It was also too big for their home, and just couldn't stay. But how to break the news to the girls?

Tim took a wise approach and assured the girls that the bear was simply relocating to his office. Better yet, they could stop by to visit whenever they wanted to. With a reluctance recalling the father in the biblical account of the prodigal, Ava and Emma watched that bear slip away from their home.

Months passed, and Tim and his wife moved to a house in the country. The girls soon begged for the bear's return, and after downsizing a few toys as a family, Mom and Dad agreed.

Not long after, Tim strapped the bear into his car's front passenger seat (it's that big) and drove home. Squealing at the sight, the girls whipped off their socks, ran outside onto the cold driveway, and grabbed that bear. They hugged him and kissed him, and brought him inside.

Ava then dressed the bear in her dad's old Brian Urlacher Jersey, a shirt she regards as a treasure. At bedtime, they got the bear a fine pillow and a fine blanket. The prodigal had returned at last (the photo shows what most regard as a smile on his face).  

You probably don’t have a prodigal bear in your life. But maybe there’s a prodigal boy. Or girl. Or grandchild. I’m not suggesting that every one of these stories has a happy ending. Nor would I minimize your agony in the story of a stuffed animal.

But with certainty, we know our Good Shepherd has never lost His fixation on lost sheep. He who declared He came “to seek and to save the lost” is still seeking and saving.

He’s still on the job. So, keep on praying—and keep on believing.

Your prodigal is on God’s heart. Still.