My friend Julia and I had coffee yesterday to catch up on each other’s lives. We’re both Empty Nesters. My five kids are all married and I have twelve grandchildren. Julia has two kids, one in college and one just out––adjusting to real life! As a single parent, Julia has raised her kids alone since they were very small. Yet her life has been full with a career, friends, mentoring young people, and deep involvement in church. My life has been full too, in fact too full. As we talked honestly it became apparent that even though we were in different phases of the empty nest, we were experiencing some of the same feelings.
Both of us sensed we have been packing our lives so full that we are weary. Yet underlying the weariness is a fear of slowing down, because slowing down seems to hint at the dreaded words “retirement and old.”
Lately I’ve been thinking about shelter. In times of economic crisis, we long for a shelter; when fears of every type overwhelm us, we long for protection. When we are afraid, we want to run for safety. And we want to shelter and protect our children and grandchildren.
Recently, when we were in Africa, I watched a mother elephant shelter her baby. The baby actually hides most of the day under the belly of its mother. Her body shelter is crucial, for without it the baby elephant’s tender skin would become sunburned and peel away. Without the warmth of her body, the baby would get too cold when the sun goes down and become sick. The baby elephant is not aware of the dangers “out there,” but his mother knows and she anticipates and provides what he needs. The baby elephant merely knows he needs to stay within the shelter of his mother.
As I marveled over these magnificent creatures and the maternal instinct of the elephants, I was reminded of how much our Father God wants us to seek shelter in Him. He knows what’s “out there.”
Today is the most beautiful of spring days. It’s early March, in the mid-70s, breezy and bright. Spring is announcing its return as the first of the daffodils are blooming, the earliest Spirea bushes are popping tiny white blossoms, and the leaf buds on many trees are swelling in preparation of their opening in a few weeks. We are sure to have more cold weather, and we will need it so it doesn’t get too hot too soon. I remember Easter weekend a few years ago when it was below freezing for four nights in early April. We all wore winter coats to church, a highly unusual sight here in the south, but it reminded me of my childhood in the Chicago area when we always had to wear coats and hats and gloves on Easter Sunday.
My husband told me the other day about a story he heard about life during the Depression. He said because many men did not have work, the movie theatres did a booming business as laid off workers would spend the afternoons passing the time with entertainment. Will that be true in our day, I wonder?
I do know something that will remain true that was also true in the ’20s and ’30s. That is that the seasons will always change no matter what the experts say about global warming or cooling.
The Empty Nest isn’t just an American phenomenon. Today I met with a group of Empty Nest friends in Nairobi, Kenya. As I shared some of the discoveries that Barbara and I made in writing our book, I wondered if these women would identify with what we found or if the cultural experiences would be too different. The nods, laughter, and tears on the faces around me quickly confirmed that no matter what our skin color or tribe or country, each of us experiences similar feelings as we navigate this unusual season in our lives. When I expressed the feelings of fear, loss, a sense of being “fired” from our primary calling of motherhood, AND the silent wondering if these feelings are “normal” or if anyone else understands, these women responded with a “yes.” They too face the challenges of how to relate to their husband in this season, of how much to be involved in their adult child’s life, and particularly of how to define who they are now, and most importantly how to discover what to do next.
My Kenyan friends also long for a fresh purpose. They are tired and need a break. For them, as for each of us, the future is uncertain––politically, financially, and personally. Yet in the midst of uncertainty, these women are seeking to make a positive difference in their communities.
I’ve written a couple of posts on the economy since it started its slide south back in the fall. The emotions in watching this downturn have moved from interesting to perplexing, and if it keeps falling the prevailing emotions could inch nearer to frightening.
For now, the word perplexing accurately describes my vantage point. It’s not as if we are unaffected. My husband is working harder than he ever has, putting in fifty-hour weeks trying to find ways to cut expenses and increase revenue. I just talked to one of our sons who said they are living hand to mouth, barely making ends meet. And I know it’s true. Their pantry was literally bare when we visited last month. Another son and our son-in-law are both doing the same, working harder than ever trying to keep their families fed and their payments made. These are not business-as-usual days. What our country is experiencing clearly isn’t a brief downturn where things will return to “normal” in a few months.
Added to our national situation is the complicating factor of this being a global issue which leads to the question, “What is God up to in these international complexities?” While I do NOT have the answers, I think it’s good and healthy that we ask this. We who claim to belong to God must be measuring our experience against the truth.
One of the duties of getting older is annual checkups; a good physical, blood work, an eye exam, a pap smear and every “girl’s” favorite, a mammogram. My good friend, Karen Loritts, told her story recently when speaking in Chicago to the TrueWoman08 conference. With great humor, she explained that every November, which is her birthday month, she runs the gauntlet of annual medical checkups. She bemoaned her cholesterol counts and that she is now officially a mall walker. And she explained the all too familiar visit to get an annual mammogram
If you know anything about Florida football, and this does relate I promise, you will remember their fans in the stadium with arms outstretched and moving up and down in a scissors motion. They call it “gator bait,” and the arm motions mimic an alligator’s wide-mouthed snap on its prey
Karen used that same hand motion to describe the repeated smashing process of a mammogram. Yesterday I remembered Karen’s description as I sat in the small holding room, half naked except for a flimsy shawl made of green scrub fabric, waiting for my turn with the smashing machine.
March 26
March 19
March 12
March 10