I heard this story many years ago and it made such an impression on me at the time. In fact, I am still feeling its lasting effects and it especially helps inspire me around this time of year. It is for this reason that I thought I might share it with you now, if that would be ok with you…
When he thought back to all he had done – all the destruction he had caused, all the relationships he had neglected and all the bridges he had burned – he didn’t think there would even be a point to writing the letter he was about to write. But by now he was used to the second-guessing and regret that filled his heart and was determined to fight past these feelings no matter what would happen.
Where to begin? The first word is always the hardest to write on the blank page that stares back at you… To start admitting guilt to the list of his misdeeds would be a tiring task, besides for the fact that he didn’t have enough paper for such a project. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to start reminding everyone of all the pain he caused anyway.
No. He wouldn’t make a lengthy apology. He wanted forgiveness – he NEEDED forgiveness – but he was too embarrassed to ask for it directly. He had only a small piece of paper but a lot of remorse. He decided to take a chance with the last chance he felt he had.
With a trembling hand, he reached for his pencil…and with a broken heart he wrote:
Dear Father,
I love you. I miss you. I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you. I have abandoned you and the ways of my family and for this, I am filled with immense shame…
In two days, I will be on the train that passes through our town. If you can find it in your heart to take me back, then would you please come to the train station and wave a white flag on the platform as the train pulls in? If you will find it in your heart to take me back, then I will see this flag and know that I am welcome to return. But if you cannot bear to see me again after all the grief I’ve put you through – and please know that I would understand if you felt this way – then simply don’t show up at all and I will remain on the train as it passes on through.
With love and respect,
Your Son
He carefully folded the paper and mailed it off to his childhood home. He boarded the next train and took his seat by the window, knowing in his head what he would probably see, but hoping in his heart that it would unfold much differently. As the train gained speed, thoughts of despair and dejection practically consumed him as he almost wished he hadn’t set himself up for the massive rejection that he was about to endure.
Hours went by and sleep avoided him. He just couldn’t stop wondering how he could have been so naive to think that after so much time and so much agony, his parents would just take him back. Just like that. How could his siblings forgive him for the shame he has brought to the proud family name? And even if, by some miracle, they would accept him back into their lives, the community surely wouldn’t – they would view and treat him as the outcast he was, of that he was sure…
He wanted to get off the train right then and put an end to this dream gone terribly wrong but he wouldn’t get the opportunity. Because while he was lost in his own spiral of negativity, the surroundings began to become more familiar. He looked up and immediately started to recognize the landscape as the one he had grown up in, so many years before. That meant that he was nearing the local station and there, the moment of truth.
All at once, he was filled with contrasting emotions. On the one hand, he dreaded the scene he was about to behold. On the other hand, he still held out an ounce of hope that he would catch a glimpse of his elderly father, aged by the pains of a wayward child, standing, waving a flag of white….
He would close his eyes, not opening them until the train made a complete stop. Only then would he open them so see what he already knew he would see.
As the train slowed to a halt, the time had come to face the hard truth. He opened his eyes and peered out of his window but what he saw was much different than he had imagined.
What he saw was not just one flag, and not even two or three. But from every place his eyes could see, there was someone there, standing, smiling, and waving a white flag. He saw the Rav of the city standing next to the Rosh Yeshiva and community leaders. He saw his childhood friends and neighbors standing side by side celebrating his arrival with excitement and glee! He couldn’t believe what he was seeing!
And there, front and center of it all, was his father, standing proudest of them all, flag in one hand and in the other a sign that read: Welcome Home
It’s Never Too Late was composed by R’ Joey (Yosef) Newcomb and is from his 2019 debut album called To Be A Yid. We’ve written about this artist before, but for those who may have missed the more detailed bio, suffice it to say that Newcomb excels in expressing life by way of song. In short, where there’s life there’s inspiration, and where there’s inspiration, there’s a niggun not far behind – This is the power of music. This, is Joey Newcomb.
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