empty nest

Three weeks ago, I wanted to move. Downsize. Will and I even looked around at houses. May I just say, there is nothing as unsettling as looking for houses. Especially when you don’t have permission to leave where you are. Oh, yes. I flew up a little prayer. Something like, “God, please let us know if you want us to move …” and followed with a, “Come on, Will, let’s troll the neighborhood for a house with a view.”

My husband is so sweet. And he wants me happy. So on the anniversary of our 27th year of marriage, we drove all over Austin creeping on houses with signs in the front yard. Charming.

Apparently, I was ‘un-nesting.’ Pulling myself apart because I was sad. Mentally dismantling my home because I desperately wanted everything in my life to stay the same. I know. So weird. But I was grasping at something, anything to soothe the changes taking place in our family life.

Selfishly, I wanted to keep all my little birds in the nest. To keep life from marching on. And on and on. I know I must not be alone in this …

Then yesterday at Roxann’s, I spied this little nest sitting on her patio table. It’s so perfect, I thought it was some pricey boutique store purchase. But, no. Roxann explained they found it. Abandoned in her backyard. Just sitting there all gorgeous. And empty.

And all I could think about is my gorgeous empty nest. How right where I am is piled high with tiny twigs, delicate and fragile, painstakingly woven together. Carefully placed one upon the other, year after year. Constructed in love. Managed in prayer. Maintained even through missteps.

And suddenly I realized with enormous, humbling gratitude that my home, this nest … is God’s story. A story of five people in a family. And it is a masterwork. Not of my efforts but pieced together by grace.

I stared at that nest on the table. And suddenly realized, in my discomfort, I chose not to trust Him.  For a shift in seasons, I became discontent with all the gifts He has lavished year after year after year … would I now throw a fit and smash it to pieces?


Instead, meek and small, I will return to God with my broken heart and my messed up thinking. I will hold tight to my faith when I feel that sharp pain return. And I will give thanks.  Endlessly. Breathlessly. For this gift. Of being a mother. And building a nest. One that is now empty of children but I pray, will be filled full of Him.

Maybe you are in an unsettling season. One that needs more of Him. How might I pray for you? You are welcome to leave a comment or send me a message here.

The reason birds can fly and we can’t is simply because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings. ~ J.M. Barrie

more mothering posts: part time mothers * savoring the picture perfect moments * post prom monday