This is a letter that I read at Renovatus a few weeks back. It's long, but it's worth reading I think. Enjoy...

I grew up in a good home. And I’m not just saying that, but it really was a loving environment where both my parents cared for me, told me that they loved me often. As a little girl I was especially close to my dad. We would go on dates together, just he and I; he’d take me shopping at the mall even though he hated shopping. He said it made his wallet and his ankles hurt. Sometimes we’d just go out for ice cream and he’d dare me to get the biggest ice cream sunday they had, you know the one with 10 scoops that comes in a trough. We’d talk a lot over ice cream, and he’d always end the date by looking me straight in the eyes and saying that he loved me. My dad was something special.
But something changed my senior year. I shouldn’t say “something”, but I should say I changed. My dad was still loving toward me and my family was still near perfect, but I started making some bad choices. I got a boyfriend who was quite a bit older than me. He was 25 and I was only 17. My friends at school said it was a pretty cool thing to date a guy so mature, but my parents and my friends in the youth group told me it was a bad idea. I really liked Alex, that was my boy friend, and it infuriated me that my parents didn’t want us to be together. We loved each other…I thought. The moment that Alex and I started dating a chasm began to separate my parents and I. The relationship that was so close between my dad and me earlier on in my life became a distant memory. My dad still told me that he loved me but I would just scream back at him “if you really loved me than you’d let me and Alex be together!” I was really angry. Alex introduced me to a lot of new things that I had never tried before. I lost my virginity to him. We’d go to parties and get wasted on alcohol I’d never even heard of. Alex always laughed at how innocent I was. At those parties I smoked weed for the first time, they all told me it wasn’t a big deal, but I knew that if my dad found out he’d be really upset.
Right around the time I turned eighteen my family all went up to the cabin like we did every year. I said I didn’t want to go, that I was too old for that and had better things to do. Right before they left I lifted my dad’s credit and debit cards from his wallet and while they were gone I moved into Alex’ apartment. By the time my family got back I had withdrawn a bunch of money and maxed out a few of his credit cards. I don’t remember what I bought with it. Crap probably.
Things with Alex went well at first, but after a few months I got pregnant. I was kind of freaked out and excited all at once, but he was furious. How could I even think of keeping the baby? He called me a lot of names and hit me for the first time. I’ll never forget terminating that pregnancy, each time I got an abortion after that it got easier and easier to do it. The substance abuse also got worse. I don’t remember a whole lot over the next five years. I remember that I hated myself. I was so addicted to different substances that I couldn’t even function in society. Alex and I didn’t last too long, but because of my addictions I had to find someone else to support me. I couldn’t keep a job but I had to keep up with my drug use so I ended up getting together with another guy, Josh. Like I said, I don’t remember a whole lot during this time, but I do remember that Josh was pretty nasty. He got me into stripping so that I could do my part. He’d have a lot of girls stay over, but he always told me that I was his first choice. He told me that I needed him, that the only reason I got a job stripping was because he knew the club owner. Josh said I was ugly and that I couldn’t get a job a gas station let alone at a club if it wasn’t for him. Eventually he had me sleeping with different buddies of his. It got him some extra money for whiskey he said. I felt pretty ugly both inside and out. So I got even deeper into substance abuse to forget even more.
The next solid thing I remember in my story is kind of strange. I was completely high but from somewhere deep inside, maybe it was God, I gained some remnant of my dignity. I told Josh that I wasn’t going to sleep with his friends anymore; I told him I was better than that. Saying that set Josh off and he beat me so bad that you couldn’t recognize me.
Once my face healed up a little bit, I found that I didn’t have anywhere to sleep ‘cause Josh had kicked me out, I didn’t have any income ‘cause who wants to watch a scared up woman dance, and so I didn’t have any way to feed my addictions. My past was like a mirage, I could barely even see it anymore. I hadn’t seen my family in years, and I knew that they must hate me completely. But the only idea I had was to call my parents and ask for some money. There was no other option. So I called my parents…three times. And each time I got the answering machine. The third time I left a message, I remember that message like it was yesterday. “Dad, mom, it’s me. I was wondering about maybe coming home for a little bit. I need to borrow some money and I’m catching a bus your way. My bus comes in at midnight next Friday. If you’re not there, I understand, and I’ll just stay on the bus until it hits Canada.” That message, it still haunts me. As I left it I just kept thinking they hate me, they hate me. I know they do. I hate me, so why wouldn’t they? Everything I had done to damage their little girl began running through my head. Everything, like a movie, a really really bad movie began running through my head. I’m screwed wasn’t exactly what I said, but that’s about the only word I can use here.
But I had no other option, so I got on the bus and headed home. I think by the time the bus ride ended I didn’t have any finger nails left I was so nervous. I spent the whole time rehearsing what I was going to say, “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in me and I’m a complete screw up. All I need is a few hundred bucks and then I’ll never bother you again.” It was my mantra, I kept saying it over and over again and in each scenario my dad had a different response some which ended in me killing myself, others ended in my dad strangling me, others ended with lots of shame, guilt, and me running away again.
As I neared the bus depot I put on my game face. “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in me and I’m a complete screw up. All I need is a few hundred bucks and then I’ll never bother you again.” I was ready. I was ready for a fight. As the bus stopped I mustered my courage and walked off the bus. “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in me and I’m a complete screw up. All I need is a few hundred bucks and then I’ll never bother you again.” But as my foot hit the ground outside the bus I saw my dad. Then my mom, then my old youth minister, my cousin with my aunt. There were nearly 30 people there to greet me. They were holding signs and banners. “Welcome home” “We love you” They all had goofy party hats on and those obnoxious noise makers. They were waving and screaming and as I walked off the bus my dad ran toward me and hugged me like I hadn’t been hugged in ten years. We were both sobbing uncontrollably. I did manage to sputter out the words “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in me and I’m a complete screw up. All I need is…” “I love you” he whispered into my ear interrupting my well prepared request. So I started again, “Look dad, I know you’re disappointed in…” “Shh, let’s not waste too much time here; you’ll be late for the big party back at the house.”

* This is a modernized version of Jesus' story that we call the Prodigal Son