Empty Nesters

Empty nest n. - A home or a family where the children have grown up and left home.

Even on the bleakest days of this winter, I notice it outside our bedroom window - seek it out, actually. Forlorn and droopy though it might appear, especially with our dark and soggy northwest weather, it is a good reminder for me of what does, and doesn't need to be.

The bird that made it is long gone, basking in a warmer clime. But it was a sly one, quietly flitting in and out of the leaf cover to build its masterpiece. Summer was half over before we ever noticed it, although it is nearly at eye level from our second story bedroom window which I look out of every single day of the year. That robin carefully and painstakingly constructed this nest of twigs, mud, grass, moss and feathers, before laying its eggs and successfully raising its young. This was one nest that we couldn't really observe - it was just too well-hidden, wedged into the fork of several branches and obscured by thick leaves. I saw enough, however, to know that the young did hatch, were regularly fed and protected, and did eventually leave the nest for good. And in the life of the adult bird, that was it - having no further use for the nest, she also left in behind, never to return to or use it again. Perhaps there is a lesson here for us...

Most birds build and use a nest for one reason only - as a safe, protected place in which to raise their young. Some kinds of birds return to the same nest year after year, repairing and re-arranging it as necessary; many insist on building a new nest each year. Either way, very seldom do the adults stick around to use the nest themselves after their young have left it; it has served its purpose. And consider what those adults do when their young have finally learned to fend for themselves and are gone for good. They go on with their bird lives, doing whatever it is that birds of their kind do. I seriously doubt that they suffer long, if at all, from "empty nest syndrome".

I have always been a "nester". I attribute that, at least in part, to the fact that I was raised in a safe and cozy home. Although my sisters were teenagers when we moved in, I was a toddler and it was the only childhood home I ever knew. I lived there until I was married; my parents lived there until their deaths.

My parents did all of the work - carpentry, repairing, painting, decorating - themselves on that old house and so I thought that everyone did that. Because we lived next to our family greenhouse and floral business, the house became the center of our existence. In Our-Speak, it was always "the store" and "the house". To me, the house was a comfortable refuge - a warm, inviting place that was often a bit messy and disorganized, but never dirty nor uncared for. The coffee was always on, an extra plate (and perhaps a thinner soup...) was always available to visitors, a listening ear heard many a lament or heartache, and family mourning or celebration took place there. In the greatest sense of the word, it was always HOME for me. And it continued to function in these ways long after I had left it.

Since our marriage, my husband and I have lived in two apartments and five different houses and each of those was a home for us at the time. We followed suit with my parents by remodeling, repairing, and decorating each one to suit our needs. Each time we moved, I hated to leave the house, but quickly adapted to the new place and set about nesting again. 

Some lessons are learned the hard way and one of the biggest and best for me concerned a house. After spending four years in Colorado, where we poured blood, sweat, and tears into an old log house, we moved with my husband's work to Texas. I was heartbroken to leave, although I did adapt rather quickly to a much nicer house in the new location. A year or two after we'd left, my husband traveled on business back to our town in Colorado and I went along to visit old friends there. One of our previous neighbors insisted that she take me to visit our old house, something I truly dreaded doing because I had loved it so. The current owners were quite amicable and warmly invited us in to take the "royal tour" of our old home. It was then I realized that this house meant nothing to me anymore - absolutely NOTHING. Oh yes, the memories of our time spent there were strong (still are) - and mostly happy - but that was then and this was now. Quite simply - it was no longer our house and, therefore, no longer our home. It is the people and the experiences that make a house a home.

We've lived in our present house longer than in all of the others put together. Again, we have poured time, talent, and money into it and in the process have made quite a nest for ourselves.

We were married for some time before bringing a child into the family, but quickly adapted - and adapted the house as well - to having a young one around.

When the turbulent teen years hit, our son was in and out, out and in, and then finally out for good. Thus, we found ourselves being "empty nesters" well before most people probably do. I would be lying if I said this was not painful - for what wonderful, warm, happy memories children bring into our homes and lives. Nevertheless, even under the best of circumstances, children grow up and move out. Who of us would have it otherwise?

Today, our son and grandchildren are always welcome in our home and they do visit. But we know that they have their own lives to live and understand when the visits are infrequent.

Life does indeed go on - we have friends who come by,

 

we occasionally have various kinds of meetings here,

we keep in touch with relatives and friends who live some distance away and welcome their visits when they can make them.

We consider any visit to our home a special occasion and therefore make the coffee, offer the food (and sometimes a bed...) and spend the time visiting whenever possible. We consider it a privilege to be able to do so.

Mostly, we spend time with each other or alone doing the things that we enjoy doing here at home. Because it is our home, we are the ones to enjoy it, but we realize that the house is just a building. It is what happens here - and who is present - that makes it a real home.

Recently, it was tree-trimming, cookie-baking, and candy-making with the grandkids.

Next week it will be Christmas Eve and Day spent with them, our son, and my sister, in our crazy, some-old-some-new ways with mystery packages, home-made goodies, mixed generations, good food, recliner naps, rap music, old time carols, and maybe a game or two.

We welcome all the hubbub and when it is over, we will welcome returning to the peace and quiet once again.

And so, as this season of darkness continues to progress, inching ever closer to a new season, I'll continue to watch the deserted nest from our window. Unlike the birds, most of us DO need a place to call home. One way or another, we shape our own nests as a place of refuge and comfort. It does not matter so much the shape or size of the house, only that it suits our particular needs and offers some respite from the busy-ness of the world. Many of us feather our nests so that we may raise children and, eventually, these children do fly away.

 

 

But life DOESN'T need to become less engaging when the children leave. There are a great many ways and reasons to feather one's nest...

 Ours is never empty.

For more holiday posts
click below:

Holidays: 1. Prepare Yourself
Holidays: 2. Figure It Out
Holidays: 3. Forge Ahead
Holidays: 4. Celebrate!
I Don't Do Angels
Christmas Is
Whose Holiday Stamps?
Santa's Angel
Berries and Thorns
O Tannenbaum
Of Things Not Seen
The Shepherds Wore Tennis Shoes
Following Stars
The Glow of Advent

Breathe...

"Remember to breathe.

It is, after all, the secret of life.”

Gregory Maguire, A Lion Among Men

 

 

To any who follow my writing here, it's obvious that from time to time I take a break. This last one has been longer than usual, but it was something I needed. Rest assured I have not been idle! Each person who blogs does so for their own reasons and mine are rather simple - to share my experiences, ideas, and talents in a way that will be uplifting to others and present some food for thought. I'm not in business here, nor am I promoting news, networking or any professional endeavors. I've spent a lifetime working hard long before the age of computers and the internet and so I am here only to humbly (I do hope) offer something of value. My mind is brimming with a lifetime of experiences, thoughts, and opinions to share and I never feel that my creative well has run dry. My own personal standards are such that I want the subjects I present to be relevant and clear, the photographs to be worthy, and the writing to be as good as I can make it. I have many interests and activities in my life and blogging has never been at the very top of the list; there are times when there is just not enough of me to go around. I am also committed to not allowing technology to replace the other things that I consider important in life and therefore do limit screen time. I hope that you will find something here that touches your inner being and helps you to see the connections in the natural world that surrounds us. After all, "We're all in this together..."

 

 

 "Breathe.

Let go.

And remind yourself that this very moment

is the only one you know you have for sure."

Oprah Winfrey

Summer here in the Pacific Northwest was outstanding - warm, sunny, dry, and seemingly endless. But now autumn has arrived, bringing with it a cooling - warmth dropping a peg or two, and rain up more than that. I have loved the rich fecundity of summer but our temperate forests need the rain. It is time, once again, for acceptance of change:

 

 

• To work long and hard amid living things is a priceless experience.
• Tens of thousands of sea stars are dying and we've yet to know why.
• To fully hear the sounds of the earth is to deeply connect on another level.
• Contemplate all who came before - and all who are yet to come.
• Solitude is not the same as loneliness.

 

 

“I am never alone wherever I am.

The air itself supplies me with a century of love.

When I breathe in, I am breathing in the laughter, tears, victories,

passions, thoughts, memories, existence, joys, moments,

and the hues of the sunlight on many tones of skin;

I am breathing in the same air that was exhaled by many before me.

The air that bore them life.

And so how can I ever say that I am alone?”

~ C. JoyBell C.

 

 

• For most, busyness has become a way of life.
• Many of us can change our lives - if we want.
• Some are nesters, fussing and rearranging without going anywhere.
• Some are travelers, coming, going, yearning to be elsewhere.
• Some are both.

 

 

“Divide the constant tide and random noisiness of energetic flow,

with conscious recurring moments of empty mind,

solitude, gratitude

and deep...slow...breathing.

Of this, the natural law of self-preservation demands.”

~ T. F. Hodge

 

Photo by Linda Baker 

• We are all growing older.
• Growing older is not the same as being older.
• None of us knows how long we will be here.
• NEVER let a day pass without saying "I love you" - to someone.
• And mean it.

Photo by Linda Baker

“The river is now.
This moment.
This breath between us.
The space between your heartbeats.
The moment before you blink.
The instant a thought flashes through your mind.
It is everything that is around us.
Life. Energy.
Flowing, endlessly flowing, carrying you
from then...to now...to tomorrow.
Listen: you can hear the music of it.
Of the passage of time.”
~ Lisa Mangum

It's good to be back - I hope that you will be also...

 

 

Beyond the Dark

 

It's interesting how one's outlook changes through the years. There was a time when I thought our family was perfectly "normal" - no divorce, addictions, mental issues, different sexual identities, illegal doings.... The few of these things that did exist were not in our immediate family and were never talked about.

 

Only on rare occasions did I overhear adults speaking in hushed tones about such things; therefore, I thought they were practically non-existent. Little did I know...

 

They say that ignorance is bliss, but is it really? Children look to the adults in their lives to show them how to deal with life and all that it throws at one. Not acknowledging nor talking about problems is really not dealing with them at all and is of no help to those around us who care.

 

For when it finally becomes your turn to deal with something "unthinkable" - and your turn will come, I assure you - you will probably have no idea how to do that. Of course no one deals perfectly with the bumps in life's road, but even admitting the hurt, frustrations, and feelings of loss and inadequacy is better than silence. We are all imperfect beings, and helping each other through the rough times is of immeasurable value.

 

I now know that our extended family is a mixed bag, made up of individuals who struggle with all kinds of issues. As a group, we have experienced estrangement, separation, divorce, addiction, depression, personality disorders, mental illness, homosexuality, dementia, prison time, joblessness and homelessness...  For we are, after all, a part of the human family. If you have not had to deal with any of these things, you are indeed fortunate. Going through, or helping someone else get through, rough times can either steel and embitter us OR make us more compassionate. The choice is ours.

 

In this season of darkness, many are hurting. Family, financial, physical and mental problems weigh even heavier on those afflicted amidst the bright lights, hustle, bustle and good cheer that others seem to enjoy. With today a blur and the future unimaginable, many see little hope, if any. Those of us who are able try to offer some measure of help with encouragement, shelter, food, employment, money, and gifts, but often the need runs deeper still. And so we simply BE THERE - in thought, prayer, service, and person. God fulfills His promises through us - lest we forget:

There is a light out there somewhere

far away, flickering on and off

in the distance.

Small and wavering,

seemingly unreachable,

it casts a small glow

into the darkness.

 

 

I have no idea how to reach it

nor even how to begin

to wander in its direction,

for my heart is numb

and my feet are leaden.

Often I cannot see it,

yet I know it is there.

 

 

Silent within the tumult,

it beckons me still,

for I feel its faint echo

somewhere deep within

longing for its warmth

and aching for its comfort,

yet lost and alone

 

 

Somehow it nourishes,

sustains me to a degree,

while taunting and urging

to face in its direction,

take that first small, faltering step

even as I teeter on the brink

of all that is feared and unknown.

 

 

All around is darkness -

cold, and comforting in its way.

But I am not a child of darkness;

I do not dwell here willingly.

Somehow I must pass through,

come out on the other side

into the warmth and light.

 

 

I cannot ask, but you must know -

Reach out and touch me,

though I am stiff and ice-cold.

We will hold hands and walk

through the misery together

toward that flickering light

that offers a ray of HOPE.

 

 

 There is surely a future hope for you,

and your hope will not be cut off.  

Proverbs 23:18

 

 

...we who have fled to take hold of the hope

offered to us

may be greatly encouraged.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul,

firm and secure.    

Hebrews 6:18-19

 

**I am trying a  larger print for this post. 
Please let me know if this makes any difference to your viewing.**

The Gifts of Here and Now

 

"I sometimes think we expect too much of Christmas Day.  We try to crowd into it the long arrears of kindliness and humanity of the whole year.  As for me, I like to take my Christmas a little at a time, all through the year.  And thus I drift along into the holidays - let them overtake me unexpectedly - waking up some fine morning and suddenly saying to myself:  "Why, this is Christmas Day!"  ~David Grayson
 

 

Well, not quite - although I do agree with the sentiment, it's obvious it was written by a man. Most of the women I know were busily working on Christmas activities for weeks. I've long felt that if it were not for women, holidays would not be nearly what they are - the positive and the negative side. That, I suppose, is a whole 'nother topic for some other time. But there is much to be said for taking Christmas a little at a time, especially when it comes to priceless gifts.

 

 After the dual dramas of dealing with the moves* of two elderly relatives, we treated ourselves to some early "Christmas gifts". In early October, we - with older sister in tow - made the three hour drive to visit our youngest niece and her dad. Having finally convinced him to make the move last spring, she was anxious for us all to re-connect as soon as possible. We definitely felt the same, as her dad is the husband of the beloved sister we lost two years ago at this time of year. He also suffers from Alzheimer's, so time is of the essence...

 

Love of and connection to family are strong forces in most people's lives, but I think take on deeper meaning as we age. As a child, I never thought about, nor could I have envisioned, living without either or my parents or my older sisters. Life simply progressed day by day and many of the thoughts and feelings I had concerned things that were somewhat trivial as I look back on them. They were important to me at the time, however, and I do not mean to infer that they were unimportant, for that is the way of youth. If I had needed to be concerned about my relationship with the rest of my immediate family, I might not have had the energy and drive to pursue the thoughts and actions I did in other areas of my young life.
 

 

As it was, I had a fairly carefree childhood and blissfully skipped from one year to the next. Perhaps I was overly naive, but I like to believe that the adults in my life gave me the security and confidence to move forward. I ache for those children who do not have that kind of stability in their lives.

 

My oldest sister went off to college the year I turned two and began teaching the year I entered first grade. She has always been independent, so moved forward in her career, attended graduate school, traveled widely for work and pleasure, and remained single. For most of her life she lived elsewhere in Montana, but always drove home to spend holidays with us. Because of our family-owned floral and greenhouse business, she spent many of those visits home working - either in the store or cooking/cleaning at the house. I never doubted that she would be there and greatly anticipated her visits and hearing stories of her latest travels and adventures. She was always my "Big Sister".

 

Our middle sister, who was only fifteen months younger than the oldest, also went off to college when I was four. She chose her own route, however, and married the love of her life in her senior year. Because he was in graduate school, they moved east immediately and she completed her schooling there. Never again did she live close, but they - eventually with three daughters in tow - made the long trek back to Montana almost every summer. Again, I never doubted that they would come and longingly looked forward to that one precious week when all the family could be together.
 

 

My oldest sister had introduced our other sister and her future husband in college, so she has known him longer than any of us. Even before he married our sister, he blended into our family easily. Raised on a small farm, he had humble beginnings, but chose a career in biochemistry; he eventually earned a PhD, did research, and became a university professor. I fell in love with him early in life, and always, ALWAYS enjoyed talking with him about science, outer space, and spooky "unknowns".  I never doubted that we would always have these wonderful conversations.

 

There is just so much we all take for granted. As little as two and a half years ago none of us foresaw where we would all be today - and maybe that's a good thing. Time and distance have made "in- person" visits difficult, but we have all worked at keeping in touch and that is what really matters.

 

As with we older ones, life circumstances have scattered our progeny across the country and muddied the waters of connectedness. I understand this. I also know that it takes time and effort to establish and maintain any connection. My sincere hope is that they will find the time and make the effort to do that, because there just is no connection on earth like family bonds.

 

And so we made that three hour trek for the specific purpose of maintaining those bonds and establishing new ones. For there are new generations and new relationships to become acquainted with. Our youngest niece and her significant other have also made the same drive to see us twice in the last month for the very same reason. They both have busy careers and active lives, so the decision to come, and the notification to us of same, were done with short notice. No matter - we've all learned to "go with the flow" and be as flexible as we can. Perhaps it takes losing someone or watching them slowly fade away for us to truly value those we have here and now. When it comes to those I cherish, I'll take what I can get whenever I can.

 

It's said that a road runs in both directions and that is certainly true. You see, a simple three hour drive for a weekend visit is not such a simple thing to me - it has great meaning and is one of the finest gifts I could ever receive.

 

"You have to be vulnerable

to have real intimacy with people.

It's a two-way street, you know?"

~ Michelle Pfeiffer

 

*For background on the "dual dramas" of the moves:
November Musing - Part 1
November Musing - Part 2