I remember riding out of the church parking lot, the back of
the mini-van stuffed with kids, passing by one empty nest, middle-age mother
after another, my jealousy brewing. I thought . . .
Ms. Blonde. I bet she’s going to recline on her sofa this afternoon and read a novel. An empty nest meant more time to relax, uninterrupted.
The Brunette. I bet she’s going to a quiet house to take a nap today. An empty nest meant more time to rest, refuel.
So I did what I usually do when I’m overwhelmed and feeling like a scum. I cried out to the Lord of the Heaven’s. “Why me? Why now? Why? Why? Why? Help!”
Ms. Blonde. I bet she’s going to recline on her sofa this afternoon and read a novel. An empty nest meant more time to relax, uninterrupted.
Mrs. Auburn. I bet her
husband is taking her to lunch. An empty nest meant some extra cash, less
cooking.
The Brunette. I bet she’s going to a quiet house to take a nap today. An empty nest meant more time to rest, refuel.
I know these things, because I was once so close to the
empty nest, I could see it. Feel it. Almost touch it. But if you remember my story,
you know, just as I was near the end of my full nest, three precious little girls flew
in.
And, yes, on this particular Sunday morning, this Second-hand
Mother, the Mother of the Cottage was having a woe is me moment. Wondering how I ended up in a mini-van. Again.
And who the heck were all these kids.
So I did what I usually do when I’m overwhelmed and feeling like a scum. I cried out to the Lord of the Heaven’s. “Why me? Why now? Why? Why? Why? Help!”
But when I finally stopped whining and listened to the CD playing
softly in the background, I heard this song--not just the music--but the words.
And I found the strength to ride on, in that mini-van, home to make lunch.
So if today is one of those days, you know, those days, and you’re wondering if this
service, we call motherhood, is worth it? Give yourself a few minutes, and
hear these words above life’s noise. And during nap-time, if you can just let
the dishes sit in the sink, the laundry lay in the pile, recline on your sofa,
read that novel, munch on those leftover P and J crusts, doze-off. Let’s
not let those empty nesters have all the R&R!
If you would like to continue to read more stories by the Mother of the Cottage, AKA The Second-hand Mother, please subscribe to Carolyn's new blog here. She will continue to address issues for survivors of sexual abuse at Tamar's Redemption beginning this fall.
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