He often wonders if anyone listens. This floor sleeping, home-hopping, love-driven soul - looking, waiting, hoping for just one.
He hears whispers - mostly against him. Mostly aimed at pressing the button sending him into explosives. These moments send him reeling. He knows he's not alone...
but that doesn't mean he's not lonely.
He just wants one.
Closing his eyes at night, fighting the nightmares pushing against his memory, he talks to himself. Some may even consider it praying. He mutters and groans and lets the hidden tears fall, holding tight to his middle where the pain grows deep in his bones.
Maybe tomorrow will be different.
Oh, but what he doesn't know is there's already One watching him - loving him. Arms extended, eyes wide with anticipation, this One waits. At night, while he sleeps, the One sings over him and comforts him - holding the nightmares creeping towards his memory in strong hands scarred with love. By day, the One spins wildly at just the thought of this broken soul. He sets in motion the coming home - the celebration. He is the Father anxiously waiting his son's arrival. On the edge of His seat, hands gripping tight with excitement, he waits.
He waits for us.
Guest bedroomed, fridge filled people wandering pleasantly through this life. Eyes straight ahead - bumping into home-hopping souls without even a second glance.
We may even lock gazes daily.
But the Father has spoken. And one day - this broken soul will find a home. One day, his heart will find arms to rest in and for the first time a sigh of release will fill his bones.
All it takes is a few, willing to stand for the One.
Until then, the Father keeps spinning. Smiling. Watching. Waiting.