About Prodigal

I don't have it all figured out.

That's not a marketing line. It's the truest thing I can tell you about starting this brand.

Prodigal didn't come from a business plan. It came from a pattern I know too well — falling, and then finding my way back. Some nights that looks like an old prayer, repeated quietly until it's the only thing left to say: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Not because it's eloquent. Because it's honest, and because it works — it brings me back, again and again, to a God who never stopped waiting.

This isn't a brand for people who have it together. It's for the ones still on their knees. The ones who've drifted but are still close to Him in their hearts. The ones just starting to wonder if any of this is real.

Every design here starts with a verse — not as decoration, but as a confession.

No easy answers. No "everything's fine now" imagery. Just the truth, the way it actually feels: dark sometimes, uncertain often, but never without Him. Christ doesn't show up in the story after it's resolved. He shows up in the middle of it, in the waiting, in the return — and He stays.

Each illustration is drawn in a quiet, worn-in hand — the kind of thing you'd find tucked into an old book, not printed for a shelf. Nothing here is meant to be loud. It's meant to be true, close to your heart, on your back, where you'll feel it even when no one else can see it.

Prodigal is named for the story it's built on — a son who wasted everything, expected nothing, and was met by a father already running toward him. That's the whole idea. Not that you've earned your way back. That mercy was already on its way before you even turned around.

If that's where you are — welcome home.