Life is full of conflicting emotions these days and they seem to echo more loudly in our extreme empty nest. With three children, all married, all now living out of town, we find ourselves alone for the first time in over twenty-six years. And with a house full of hardwood floors, the silence seems just as loud as all the years of commotion. Where once we fought for order and sanity, we now fight off the persistent melancholy. And it is not just my struggle; we are both feeling and processing these changes with all the inherent awkwardness of newbies. The mid-life “middle school” experience, knowing we are growing into the next phase of life, but just not comfortable in this new skin yet. Fortunately there is not the same fear of looking stupid or not fitting in, just an honesty in admitting that we sometimes feel stupid and don’t quite know where we fit. Many have come before us in this transition - some may have felt it less keenly, some have perhaps been devastated. But this journey is new to us and we’re just figuring it all out day by day. It is what it is, and there really need be no point of comparison.
As we enter this season of winter it seems a bit more cold and harsh. No kids’ excitement over the first snow to soften the edges, no girls to insist that we should get the Christmas stuff out. Am I allowed to confess that I don’t “love” Christmas? Well, I just did. If you find that blasphemous, so be it. My kids found it exasperating too at times, so I eventually let them take over the decorating. Their holiday spirit always lifted mine. And there was always “snowflake night.” This I did love…even more than Christmas morning. Gathering with the kids, Ty putting lights around the front window, music playing, lightheartedness and laughter, specs of white cutouts everywhere, and at night’s end, that lovely arch of fresh cut snowflakes in the window. A visual reminder of each persons’ uniqueness coming together in a collage of oneness; a season-long reminder of the blessings of family.
This year, snowflake night will be different, just like everything else. I'll mail out snowflake kits so the kids can send us some for the front window, and we’ll likely invite some other loved ones to join us for our night of cutting. Perhaps Ty will still groom our sloped backyard with sledding runs…for some other young families to enjoy. It is very likely that none of our kids will be here for Christmas. It is a new season. So how do we keep some of the sameness of traditions and still allow for the fact that things will never be the same? And who will decorate for Christmas this year? Should we finally get an artificial tree or return to our favorite tree lot? Will it be fun or sad to go without the kids? Shall I host Christmas dinner like I have for most of the past twenty years, or should we lay low and do something different? No matter what we do this year, it all may feel forced and unnatural...but anything new feels that way at first. Some days we'll just feel sad. That's ok. Guess we’ll just roll with it, day by day, moment by moment.
All of these changes truly are wrapped in a conflict of emotions. For while we trudge through this winter of change, we acknowledge that we are so happy and blessed by our kids, their spouses, and their new lives. We have a precious grand daughter…and, surely, more to come. We have one another, new adventures on the horizon, and we have the Lord. He never changes. He has been faithful to carry us through nearly thirty years of marriage…years of joy, sorrow, laughter, anger, blessing, bitterness, hardship, hope, and healing. It has been a real life, and it still is. We have so much yet to learn.
It is good that, as a couple, we are talking and praying together over this crazy new season. Those vows we took so long ago have been highlighted with each recent wedding. Good reminders that the seasons of life are what we pledged to one another. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness.” These vows should remain fresh. ”To have and to hold from this dayforward..." This day of change, of awkwardness, and encroaching sadness. Everyday is “this day” renewed. So, on this day we can hold each other and let the Lord hold us as we poke around and get acquainted with our new home – the empty nest.
To be continued…
