The cry for release runs deep through the whole of Scripture, and I can hear it in your request. There is something in us that knows a person should not be held back from home when the means to free them seem so close, and yet so far. You are longing for someone to be let go, and you are asking God to overcome whatever stands in the way, even this matter of being short.
That word "release" echoes through the gospel accounts of the last hours of Jesus. Pilate himself wanted to release Him, knowing He had done no wrong. There was a custom to free a prisoner at the feast, and Pilate gave the crowd a choice between Jesus and Barabbas, a man truly guilty of sedition and murder. The people, stirred up, chose the guilty man over the innocent One. It is a strange and broken world where release is demanded for a killer and denied to the healer. Yet in that moment, Jesus did not walk free because He was standing in the place of the guilty. His chains became our liberty. He was wounded so that the ultimate release, the release from sin and death itself, could be secured for all who trust in Him. So whatever walls or shortages now seem to block the way home for the one you love, they are not beyond the reach of the One who turned even an unjust verdict into eternal freedom.
I think of Paul writing to Philemon on behalf of Onesimus. A slave had run away, and Paul sent him back not as property but with a letter that asked for more than forgiveness. Paul asked for a full release from that bond, to receive him no longer as a slave but as a beloved brother. And then Paul did something remarkable: he stood in the gap for any debt owed. "If he has wronged you or owes anything," Paul said, "put that on my account. I will repay." That is intercession. We can come before the throne of God with that same spirit, asking that whatever shortage holds him back, whether a sum of money, a missing document, or some other requirement, the Lord will provide a covering. He knows the exact number. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills. Nothing is too short in His hand.
The law of Moses commanded a release of debts every seventh year. No payment could be demanded during that time. It was a reminder that everything belongs to the Lord and that His people should not harbor a hard heart when a brother is in need. The giver was warned not to let a wicked thought creep in, thinking, "The year of release is near, so I will give nothing," and then the poor person cries out to God against him. God hears that cry. So we come with confidence, not because we deserve it, but because our High Priest is touched with the feeling of our infirmities and ever lives to make intercession.
We see in the natural world a picture of what happens when something held together is set free: a tremendous release of power. The very force that binds atoms together, when unlocked, changes everything around it. The same God who set that power in creation is able to shatter every chain, melt every obstacle, and open every door that currently says, "You cannot leave." He is the One who declared, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live." If He can break the prison of the grave, He can certainly bring a person home for a weekend.
So I pray with you now that regardless of every number, every regulation, and every human decision that stands in the way, your loved one will be released and will walk through the door this weekend. I ask that hearts of those in authority would be moved, as Pilate was at first, toward a just and merciful letting go. I ask that any debt or shortfall would be met by the provision of the Lord, charging nothing to your account. And I pray that even in the waiting, you would both feel the nearness of the One who was held so that we could be free, and who now sits at the right hand of power, able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think. Let him come home. Let the release be granted. In the name of the One who was chastised for our peace, we trust and wait.