The Empty Nest

School’s starting or will soon. For those walking their first steps into Kindergarten to those who only have their thesis to complete. For us those moments when the child leaves the home…even the small breath of time when having lunch in the school cafeteria [with a note of love and assurance tucked in the sandwich bag] and dinner awaiting them that night in their home, there’s a term for it, “empty nest.”

Many moments I remember…not as many as I have forgotten…but still, many. This time of year the starkest, maybe even pivotal, was driving away from the Colorado Springs Airport drenched in tears. First-born son Matthew Frederick Miller was off to the east coast [and not the west although that came later] to find Hanover, New Hampshire and begin university classes.

Not a sidebar, of course I didn’t know the first month he would link up with 9 new friends…and to this day they are covenanted friends located geographically across the earth, but emotionally and spiritually bonded as brothers.

That, really, was my first empty nest. To say I missed him was grossly understated. But, even more, though, it was a sign of greening…and that was part of breathing for any of us parents who refuse to tether our kids to our house. Sure, we want them tethered to our home, which means that spiritual and emotional reality. But not to our house.

Empty Nest.

Been there?

Well, this morning I have a new version of Empty Nest. And. It’s taken on a whole new meaning. I think.

In our front yard off our driveway there is a lovely tree. Still more to grow but now at least ten feet tall, every branch leafed fully. Even today when the heat index will be in triple figures. For months—I didn’t chart it each day but still it was more than a month—there was a nest tucked away. One morning as my crew of Faith, Caleb and Copper walked me I thought I heard a peep. Looked up and nestled in the nest [that verb needs to be there] was a bird. More, it was a dove. A beautiful and very peaceful dove.

Day after day. Week after week.

Then, one day I peeked [didn’t look because that could be alarming] and goodness, two tiny heads popping out. Birth! New Life! Ah.

Then. Early last week. The nest was empty.

I gave a prayer of thanks. An empty nest could mean a great future. Of course I don’t know. But momma and her two kids were off into the unknown. That empty nest spoke volumes to me…about life and its transitions.

As said by Bill Coffin once, we really don’t know what our future holds. But we know who holds our future. Whether we’re still in the nest, or flying around to find new places and experiences.

One of my clergy colleagues ends his reflections with this: “May it be so.”

That’s my hope for each of you…that you are nested in your faith—at peace, the inner calm of the soul. But winging off in the new day.

Empty Nest. A ministry to me…and with God’s Grace and Love, maybe for you also.