It’s the little things that make us crazy–like getting a parking ticket after exiting the clinic where we were just told the chemo isn’t working.

Like the smudge on our slacks after having to change a tire in rush hour traffic and missing an important interview.

Like a mosquito in the tent on an otherwise great camp out. A mosquito with cousins who like to party.

It’s the little things that make us crazy…and the little things that stir our hearts.

Yesterday my pulse quickened over one small detail in the story of the Prodigal Son from the Bible. After he’d wasted the early inheritance he begged off his dad and fallen about as low as possible into life’s gutter, the prodigal returned home–guilt-ridden and repentant–in hopes of serving as one of his father’s hired men.

We know the father ran out to meet his boy. We know all about the party the father threw to welcome his son home. We know the dad acted with such overt love and forgiveness that he set a God-like standard for both.

But I got to wondering–as writers and Jesus followers often do–about a tiny detail.

The dad wrapped his coat around the boy. Why?

Theologians can speculate. Biblical historians have their theories. So do those with imaginations.

Maybe the boy was cold.

Maybe the coat was a sign of honor. As low as the slug of a son sank, still the father reached out to honor him by dressing him in the equivalent of a royal robe.

Maybe the dad used it to drive home the lesson that all he possessed belonged to the son, and always would. Maybe to prove his point, the dad solemnly removed his own coat and wrapped it around the fallen one.

Maybe the young man had lost such a totality of “everything” that he was practically naked, and the father covered him, covered his shame, with his own robe of righteousness.

Maybe all of the above.

What a picture of the Father’s love for us! Naked and poor and stupid and guilty and spent, we crawl toward Him. Not only does He run to meet us, He wraps us in honor, in forgiveness, in warmth, protection, His own robe of righteousness, a garment that marks us as His, one that tells us and the watching world that all He has is ours.

For writers: Have you made dumb mistakes in your writing? Have you sought honor prematurely or chased after wrong motives or lost sight of His purposes for you and come crawling back to the feet of the Author of your faith? You don’t have to wonder what His response will be. Feel it? His own robe of forgiveness and His whisper, “Welcome back. Let’s try that again.”

For readers: Ditto. Have you made dumb mistakes…? Have you felt the welcome weight of fabric over your shoulders? Have you heard His whispers? What seemingly small detail from God’s Word has stirred your heart lately? I’d love to hear about it.