I did not do well in gym class. I never have mastered touching my toes without bending my knees and I have no natural athletic ability. When I came up to bat, I would take the appropriate stance, grip the bat tightly in both hands, look toward the pitcher, and without fail, as soon as the ball went flying, I would quickly close my eyes, and take a wild swing. No one was more surprised than I the few times I actually connected.

It is no surprise, therefore, that when it came time to choose up sides for this game or that, I was one of those unfortunates who was repeatedly passed over in favor of other, more talented players. It did nothing to inspire me to athletic greatness, but I knew my limitations all too well and so didn't hold much of a grudge against the team captains.

It has often been said that we don't get to choose our families and I'm thinking maybe that's a pretty good thing. I had my fair share of "crushes" on other kids' parents through the years. I would have chosen Mrs. McManus any day of the week. Or Mrs. Thompson, an elderly neighbor who let us watch The Wonderful World of Disney on her color TV each Sunday night. She was sooo nice.

Knowing what we know about our parents, I'm supposing not too many of us would have chosen them out of a heavenly line-up. Too strict. Too emotionally distant. Too emotionally clingy. Too uncaring. We won't even investigate the issues of abuse and neglect. We don't dare.

Though our parents may have been less than perfect, for the most part, they did the best job they could given their abilities and available resources. Those of us who are parents know this to be as true as the sunrise.

So, it is not hard, from a parent's perspective, to stand at the gate each night, imagining that we are watching for our own prodigals to come walking down the lane. Day after day, peering into the deepening twilight until our eyes sting, we eventually turn and walk back inside, our shoulders slumping as the sun sets on hope once again, our eyes moist with renewed tears.

Is this how God sees us? Each and every one of us? Far in the distance, full of ourselves, so capable, so intelligent, so oblivious? Even as he takes his place at the gate each day, waiting for a prodigal to return, does he see the world take its inevitable toll on us? When we finally begin to awaken to the harsh truth of who we are as opposed to who we thought we were, does he see those bitter tears? Does he sigh in resignation as we pull ourselves up by our bootstraps one more time or decide to drown the disquiet in our drugs of choice, knowing that once again he will wait in vain?

It took years for me to learn to call God "Father." My years of wandering, of searching and learning revealed that this was his fondest desire -- to be a father -- to me. I still wonder at the name and all that it means and I am ever-humbled to know the high price he paid to grant me that choice.

When I finally came to my "right mind" and realized the truth of who I was in contrast to who I thought I was in my blind arrogance (just as the prodigal finally did in Jesus' parable), I was grateful to have the chance to come to him as a mere slave and even at that undeserving of the least crumb from his table.

Wonder of wonders, it thrilled my soul to discover that God does not need nor want slaves. He wants sons and daughters.

With one embrace, we are changed. Fatted calves are prepared. The finest robes are provided. His signet ring slips onto our fingers and we are not restored, we are redeemed. He lays claim to us, calls us his own, and never lets us go.

We didn't get to choose our earthly parents. Or where and when we would be born. Would we have older brothers and sisters, or younger? Would we have blond hair and blue eyes or dark skin and deep brown eyes? Would we be born in a land of plenty or in a place where we always wanted for daily bread? None of these choices were ours to make. But this choice is ours. There are but two fathers. One is the father of lies, (John 8:44) who rules in this present age and has deceived many. The other is the father who has always told us the truth, even if the truth was painful, and who has promised never to leave us nor forsake us. He still stands at the gate. Don't make him wait any longer to hear you call him, creator of all things, your own "Father."

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him." I John 3:1 (NIV)

Things you won't see in heaven: Empty gates