250/365 Prodigal Son

Today's Gospel reading, in the park under the trees, our annual mass in the park, was the story of the Prodigal Son. Fr. Miguel's homily was in first person, the older son telling his side of the story. I love homilies like this, that tell a story from a different perspective and illuminate our own situations. Because I am the older son. Always and forever, the oldest child in a family of 4. Or the valedictorian who is passed up to say the speech at graduation because I don't have a magnanimous heart (yes, that's what the principal said to me). I don't think I've ever been in the position of the younger son (at least not that I can remember), and rarely am I the one waiting for someone to return and bring them back into the fold. I am always the older brother.

I sat there looking at my kids, wondering about the dynamics of family and how things will go as they get older. My siblings and I get along remarkably well. Bevin and I are closest, probably, with proximity helping that a bit. Colleen and Bevin, though, are closer to each other than to either me or Ian. Down in Texas, Ian is geographically separated and easily could have been the younger son. But nothing so dramatic as all that. Our lives, as Mike puts it, are emotionally entangled in a way that not everyone's sibling relationships become. I keep telling Maeve that one day, she'll appreciate Sophia and Leo, that as she gets older things will smooth out and it'll be good to have siblings.

I hope that's true.