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?
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.
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 . . .