I go for walks just about every week. Those 45 minutes to an hour help to clear my mind while having some much-treasured alone time before I start my day. A wide variety of things catch my eye during these walks. Follow me on social media, and you will be well-acquainted with my absolute love for love leaf sightings. The sky as it fills with morning light shining through the trees is also very captivating.
On the other hand, not all that catches my eye on these walks is beautiful, though. I’ve seen my fair share of flattened frogs. Recently, I came across the not so lovely sight of a lifeless bird. It was baby bird size, and was lying near a tree that was towering over the street I was hiking on. My mind suddenly flooded with questions: Did it fall out of its nest? Did momma bird push it out too soon? Is it even possible for a bird to leave its nest at the wrong time?
As I asked these questions about that poor little baby bird I had found on the side of the road, it made me start thinking about my own “chicks” at home and their respective journeys out of our nest. It should be noted that I’ve seen dead birds before. There was just something about the timing of seeing this precious little chick and the transitions we’ve been experiencing in our own home.
Sometimes questions bring more questions.
With three teenagers ages 13 to 18, the empty nest is looming closer and closer each day. Our time together as a family where we’re all living under the same roof is drawing to an end. That growing realization can be incredibly overwhelming at times. As moms, we spend our lives giving our lives away, preparing our children to live their lives apart from us. Once again, my mind is flooded with questions: Have we prepared them adequately? Will my heart be able to take it? What will our new normal look like? Will they come back to visit once they’re gone?
Sometimes questions bring forth unexpected answers.
I have no way of knowing what happened to that poor little bird on the side of the road. I have no idea what the future holds for our emptying nest. My faith in who holds my future keeps me grounded, but also gives me wings to fly above the doubts and questions that try to squash me on the side of the road.
The answers to my questions go both ways. Yes, I feel we are doing our best to prepare them for life and all that it has in store for them. No, we will never be able to fully prepare them for all that they will face in life. They will struggle. They will fall short. Faith is refined and springs to life on this fertile ground, so I can breathe a sigh of relief. My heart most definitely will not be able to take it and will shatter into a thousand pieces. But God is close to the broken-hearted and binds those broken pieces back together into a beautiful mosaic. That gives me fresh faith for that new normal, whatever it may look like. Our love for them–no matter how flawed and imperfect it is–will always be that open door welcoming them home.
