The bittersweet-ness of autumn, when in a blink a full house becomes an empty nest.
Children of all ages and stages seem to be going somewhere . . .
Teething, bad dreams, and skinned knees are all part of being a mom who mends. Like Father, who mends the mom’s skinned heart when babies leave for kindergarten, college, and finally (deep breath) have grown and flown.
What Mom can’t relate?
Home-sweet-nest changes in a nano-second, and the fridge is full, the house stays clean, and the hum of the washer is resting. Your schedule that once belonged to them, is now yours. Wait, what?
I remember yesterday today . . . when my children took steps into the world without me.
I cried like they died. I’d visit the museum of their room, and smell the sweet scent of where they’d been. When I could say good-night.
When our last child left, my husband stood on the porch until baby son’s taillights disappeared. He kept watch . . . and night watch.
What Dad can’t relate?
Blink. Blink.
And now daughter has her own emptying nest to cope with. Her son marries and moves to another state, quickly followed by her missionary daughter who is going off to another country. But one left – sometimes.
What Gramma can’t relate?
We’ve learned to prepare them to leave home, but somehow we haven’t prepared ourselves. As parents, we get a little over two decades to get ready. Never ready.
Seasons change.
So, what do we do beyond the mommy years when we’re forced to “retire?” We never retire. We are always praying for the one under the new roof.
If you’re a pre-nester and still have teenagers at home – hug the moment. If you’re a post-nester, enjoy you and take silent steps to press deeper into the Father. The One who mends the skinned heart of the mom (and dad) of the fledgling.
Breathe and whisper to you – this is simply a transition, a fresh season.
You’ve done well . . .
Verna
Love this, Verna. I’m in the retirement stage and am so blessed to have the opportunity to know God better. When I was working, I couldn’t hear the silence of my house. My high-stress job made too much noise in my head to even sense the quietness. Now I drink it in, all that I can. I never expected this blessedness, which makes it all the sweeter…
Time away right in our home, I understand. There are things we learn in the stillness that we just can’t explain. I’m not retired yet, Carol . . . but, I covet the times when I can “retire” to a quiet place in the middle of the race.
Love this, Verna. I’m in the retirement stage and am so blessed to have the opportunity to know God better. When I was working, I couldn’t hear the silence of my house. My high-stress job made too much noise in my head to even sense the quietness. Now I drink it in, all that I can. I never expected this blessedness, which makes it all the sweeter…
Another tear jerker so many of us can relate to Verna. I remember over 20 yeas ago, stripping the bedroom wall of the son gone off to college, just a couple of months after his sister got married…leaving me feeling like the stripped bare wall I was working on. What next? Years later I pray for their children, and already one has flown off to the West coast.
Only prayer and trusting them to the Lord helps us readjust and realign our lives. The way it was meant to be. Thanks for heart sharing!
Our life’s work . . . momma-ing. I know, and I can’t believe Joel is living away from home, also. The trust and surrender is what helps realign our vision . . . as you say, the way it is meant to be.
And I know us grandmamas hurt right along with our daughters…Praise God for the different seasons and the grace to walk through it.
We may all look different, but this is one thing moms have in common. Children at all stages; our common thread. I can surely relate. Thanks be to God for entrusting us with such precious gifts of life; whatever the season may be. And thank you for reminding us of this gift.
I know every mom knows another mom’s heart when it comes to the “empty nest season” . . . and we all pray for each other’s kids, right Laura?
Oh how I can relate…we just moved my oldest to college 🙁 But while it’s sad for me, I’m so proud of her! Luckily, I have a few years before we have the empty nest, and I’m just trying to enjoy each season and the joys they bring. Thanks for the reminder Verna!
I know the bitter-mix, Celeste! (Pride and sorrow) . . . but, a good sorrow. Hard to believe you have one in college. And, thank you for re-blogging!
Oh how I can relate…we just moved my oldest to college 🙁 But while it’s sad for me, I’m so proud of her! Luckily, I have a few years before we have the empty nest, and I’m just trying to enjoy each season and the joys they bring. Thanks for the reminder Verna!
I know the bitter-mix, Celeste! (Pride and sorrow) . . . but, a good sorrow. Hard to believe you have one in college. And, thank you for re-blogging!
Reblogged this on CELESTIAL PONDERINGS.
Reblogged this on CELESTIAL PONDERINGS.
This was interesting to read as a teacher who is married, but doesn’t have kids. For Stephen and I, teaching is a ministry and a way of life, and every fall we anticipate those kids leaving the homes and coming to school (nothing against homeschooling, I was homeschooled for a while, but regular schools have a place too). Working at a Christian school means all those weeks of preparation are filled in considerations and prayer for our upcoming charges, who are being entrusted to us by their parents. It’s a time of excitement, planning, and yes, even some nerves still about The First Day. So in a way, Fall is both a season of leaving and a season of arrival and hope.