The Empty Nest, Take 2

Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their fathers.
Proverbs 17:6

Losing my job had an upside I couldn’t imagine the afternoon my supervisor informed me that the company I’d worked for for 30 years no longer required my services or expertise. God knew I was needed elsewhere. My daughter Mary was early in her first pregnancy when I lost my job and was looking forward to having me around more often. She gave birth to Joshua, my first grandchild, six months later. For eleven years, until all the children were in school, I spent two days a week at Mary’s house, first with Joshua, then later with three little ones when his two sisters joined the mix. We looked forward to those days and came to refer to them as Grammie days.

Several summers ago, I became aware of a “whoosh” whenever I stepped out the front door onto their small porch. I soon realized I was being strafed by a mamma bird who’d built her nest in an eave of the entryway. She picked a perfect place. Not only were she and her carefully constructed home sheltered from the elements and out of reach of any passing predators, but we could observe from inside the house without disturbing her. My son-in-law Justin peeked into the nest when mamma bird was away and found five tiny eggs. We watched as she faithfully warmed and protected the eggs. One day we saw five little heads, mouths agape, as the babies begged for food. Mamma bird diligently cared for her brood. The little ones thrived under her care. Then, one day, I went over, and the porch was quiet.

They were gone.

Even though we human mothers have years to nurture our children, time passes so quickly that it sometimes seems it’s only days, like the time it took the mother bird to raise her young. Over the years, I’ve shared this bittersweet sentiment with other mothers: “If we do our job well, the result is an independent adult.” Mothering requires a balance of holding on and letting go and the wisdom to know which to employ at any particular time in our children’s lives. It’s a difficult but necessary process.

Yet my dear mother often said, “Once a mother, always a mother,” a statement as valid as the one I wrote above. We hold our children close in our hearts and prayers regardless of their life stages, ready to assist if called on. I’m quite sure the mamma bear syndrome knows no age limits. After all, of the many people who were upset when my 30-year career ended via termination, Mom was the most incensed by the treatment I’d received. Though tiny, she was my staunchest defender until her passing three years ago. Likewise, I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting my kids and grandkids!

It’s that time of year – the time of graduations and weddings. So, for you mothers reading this and contemplating the emptying of your nests, I offer this: one day, you may realize the independent adult you worked so long and hard to raise has become one of your very best friends. Someone who brings joy to your life in new ways as you continue to cheer them on and are blessed by the fruits of your labors and theirs.

I vividly remember driving home after Mary and Justin’s wedding. I thought, “That’s it. I gave her away. It’s all over.” I was so wrong. I gained a son that night, and then came three brand new people whom I’m blessed to know and spend time with. Though my nest emptied years ago when my daughters graduated from college and established their own households, Mary and Justin’s nest is full, and I am welcome there. Welcome to help nurture a new generation and introduce them to plants and mamma birds and to their Savior, the One who loves them even more than I do.

Seasons

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace. Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Nature’s Seasons

I once attended a presentation where the speaker began with, “Summer, fall, and winter are seasons – spring is a miracle.” I’ve thought about her comment every spring since. Early warm spells begin to nudge plants from their winter slumber in January here in the South. Witchhazel, Lenten roses, and paperbush start the floral parade that continues for multiple weeks as plants take turns in the spotlight. Trees, flowers, baby birds – all embody the joyful message of rebirth, which in turn stimulates hope and rejuvenation in us.

But spring gives way to summer, and tender ephemerals disappear for another year as heat-loving specimens flourish. Summer annuals and perennials bloom, then set and disperse their seeds before beginning their decline. Fall arrives. Crops are ripe for harvest, the fruit of spring planting and summer tending. Soon daylight hours decrease, as does the temperature, and autumnal leaves create a riotous display of color – one last hurrah before they let go and blanket the ground for the winter.

Ah, winter. Based on my observations, I’ve concluded it is the most misunderstood, under-appreciated season, at least from a gardening standpoint. Those unfamiliar with the ways of plants scan the leafless, apparently lifeless landscape and pronounce, “everything’s dead.” I used to think that too, but my horticulture studies dissuaded me from that notion. For instance, some seeds won’t germinate without scarification, some bulbs won’t bloom without adequate chill time, and many plants depend on the decreased daylight and increased darkness that accompany winter to flower at the appropriate time.

My newfound knowledge has given me a different perspective. Now when I contemplate winter vistas, I prefer to think the plants are resting while building reserves for the next season of fruitfulness.

Seasons of the Soul

Contemplating the bedraggled state of my summer annuals one early-September day reminded me of a book I’d been reading. Instead of equating the aging process with seasons as is often done, author Mark Buchanan explores what he’s deemed “cycles in our hearts.” In Spiritual Rhythm, Being with Jesus Every Season of Your Soul, he describes different periods in our lives in terms of the four seasons, each with its own set of challenges and blessings, each necessary if we’re to bear fruit.

The friends who gave me the book thought the analogy would resonate with me because of my love of gardening. And so it does. Year after year, I’ve observed and anticipated the changes, as one season follows another, each dependent on the ones that precede.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to live in a constant state of springtime, emotionally and spiritually speaking – productive, energetic, surrounded by resurgent, hope-producing, joy-filled circumstances. But like the plants, God knows we need all the seasons to produce abundant fruit and to become more like Jesus.

We need to slow down and be still, to rest and draw near to God in all seasons, but we’re most likely to do so during the winters of our souls – times of loss and suffering. For it’s then we realize our utter reliance upon God, a dependence present every moment, but most evident when we come to the end of our supposed self-sufficiency.

My own winters have convinced me of the veracity of Elisabeth Elliot’s declaration, “The deepest things that I have learned in my own life have come from the deepest suffering. And out of the deepest waters and the hottest fires have come the deepest things that I know about God.” (1)

Yet, like the trees and flowers, I’ve emerged able to bear more fruit, because I know my Father and His ways more intimately (Romans 5:3-5). Signs of life return, as our winter gives way to another cycle of spring planting, summer tending, fall harvesting, a cycle that will continue in us and the natural world until our final winter. Our bodies will rest in the ground, waiting for reunion with our souls when we’re called Home, glorified, and welcomed into the joy of eternal spring (1 Thessalonians 4:13-16).

Dear Lord, just as we savor the changing of the seasons in the natural world, please help us to embrace the seasons of our souls, knowing that You have a purpose and plan for each as the cycles of our lives continue until Jesus’ return.

(1) Elisabeth Elliot, “Suffering is Never for Nothing”, lecture series, 1989.