My Biggest Problem with the Empty Nest

My biggest problem with the empty nest is that I got too used to it.
We moved Lizzy into her new dorm on Saturday and the house is now empty of children - again. It's been about a month since Christmas break started and all the festivities of the season and Robert's wedding commenced. I think our first semester of the empty nest wiped out my memory banks of having a houseful of people, coming and going and eating and sleeping at all different hours. I used to be able to function with the different schedules and agendas and needs, while still maintaining what I needed to do. Carving out time for myself in the midst of chaos was a skill I pretty much perfected. Going with the flow and adapting to those around me was really part of my make-up.
But this past month, it all got to me. The mess of lots of people and lots of activities weighed on me. The calendar lunged from one event to the next and the days, or hours, in between were lost in the process. And, yes, it was a busy time - but I think there's more to it.
The seasons have changed. I've always known I'm a very seasonal person and if you've read this blog for long, you know that. Certain smells, colors and music designate the natural seasons for me. Now I'm thinking my internal passage of time goes even further than that.
It's a new season of just me and Mike, of my writing having a future, of doing things I like (i.e. my book clubs) and basically narrowing my focus. Multi-tasking seems to have belonged to a different season.
I feel a deep gratitude for this new season and for the acknowledgment of it. However, there is also a sadness at the passing of that season of full home, full calendar, and broad, scattered focus. But having a beginning and an end IS what makes something a season.
Could that be what leads to so much sadness in our lives - holding on to seasons which have passed?

Kick-start for a Monday

God loves my children more than I do. My friend visiting from Indiana this week reminded me of this and it got me to thinking.
First, God loves our children more than we do because he's capable of perfect love. No matter how much we try, our love is always tainted by icky human stuff: selfishness, pride, ambition, vanity, and on and on. One of our pastors pointed out that he believes one reason there won't be marriages in heaven (as Jesus said in Matthew 22:30) is we'll be able to love perfectly and so won't love one person more than another. Interesting, isn't it?
So here's where I got to thinking - What other important things in my life is God more involved with than I've imagined? What else does he love and care about more than I do?
Does God love my marriage more than I do? Obviously, because I've not treated my marriage at all times as I should. So God loves my marriage and cares for it on a more consistent and deeper level than me. Cool. Little intimidating.
My home, My job, My friends - the things and people God has put in my life, things which he loves perfectly and I treat - well - not so good all the time.
My writing? Authors say their books are their babies and I know that feeling. So, wait a minute, God isn't ignoring my book or indifferent about it - he loves it more than I do? He wants the best for my writing? Wait, and he even actually knows what is best.
God loves my life more than I do AND he wants the best for it AND he knows what the best actually looks like. Well, now that makes for a good Monday!

Autumn again.

Sitting in my rocking chair looking out the front windows, I notice the maple across the street is beginning to turn. Before long it will be orangy-yellow. The tall walnut beside our house will be pure gold, towering over our roof. A jewel-toned tapestry is what the oak will remind me of and the half dozen crepe myrtles will turn peachy-red. And then every single leaf will fall to the ground. Every one. Hard to imagine.
When we lived in Jacksonville, Florida folks took their vacations in the fall to go to Tennessee and "see the leaves turn". Since I'd grown up in Tennessee, I thought that was funny. Until I spent a couple falls in Florida. Then I found myself seeking out roads lined with sumac - basically a spindly weed, but which turns scarlet red in the fall. That was the height of my autumnal glory for a few years.
I love summer, but when the leaves begin to look tired and the flowers struggle to appear happy, I'm ready for everything to have a rest. For the trees to go out in a blaze of glory. For the zinnas and begonias to be put out of their leggy misery. For the sky to deepen to match the deep blue of September's birth stone. All signs it is time to say goodbye to summer.
When something's been good, it's hard to let go. With two engagements this past week and Lizzy settling in and busy at college, the future is very much with us. However, sometimes in the early darkening of the afternoons, I remember those days when I gathered my little ones inside as the leaves fell. Remember the laughter and red cheeks around the table, eager to share supper with mom and dad, brother and sister. Tales of their days at school or play winding down in cozy beds sheltered from brisk winds.
Lengthening shadows seem to lenghthen my memories.

Weakness = Strength?

There's a thought going round that we focus too much on our weaknesses, which takes time and energy away from furthering our strengths. I understand the point, but I don't agree. More to my way of thinking is the belief that one's greatest weakness is also their greatest strength. In my story, which was published in the compilation book, Heart of Mother, I write of how Mama knew me and my brothers and told us about ourselves. Through playing cards, she pointed out my desire to win fast. You can read that story by clicking here http://kayshostak.blogspot.com/2009/09/addendum-for-todays-blog-heart-of.html
My three kids have weaknesses - sorry for the sudden shock. One hates making decisions, one is an instant expert, and one has never met a good change. But those are also their strengths. Not making decisions quickly means all sides are examined and many options usually come to light. Being an instant expert, means being confident and ready to lead. Disliking change makes that one laid back, easy going and comfortable to be around. Who better than parents to tell their kids who they are - good and bad.
Me being aware of my desire to win fast had helped me know myself. The strength in that flaw? I'm a mover. When something is wrong or messed up, I gotta get involved. Often I've lamented that I hate to find a problem, because I can't rest until it's fixed.
So knowing our strenths AND weaknesses makes for better knowing ourselves. I heard this one time and liked it so much it still hangs on my refrigerator door.
"Walk in your strengths, manage your weaknesses."

It's Dark in the Tunnel

I've often said it's hard enough when the kids go away to school, that I can't imagine how hard it would be if they weren't happy once they got there.
Now I can imagine it.
Lizzy is having a tough time and she just can't seem to catch a break. The one break she did get, turned out to be not so good.
Mike was in Oregon last week and their high-rail truck (a pickup truck with attachments to allow it to ride on railroad tracks) died in the middle of a tunnel and then derailed. Luckily, the line is abandoned, so no oncoming trains. But he says it was dark - very dark. They had to walk a long way and then ended up pushing the truck out of the tunnel.
When you're in a tunnel you only have one choice - keep walking until you're out of it.
Lizzy keeps walking. But the lights she sees in the distance, keep turning out to not be real light. It's just another branch of the tunnel. And she keeps walking. She knows she'll get out one day and this will just be an unhappy time in her past. But it's so dark.
And I'm so far away. I guess that's good because everything in me says, get a flashlight and go get her. But this is her faith journey, not mine.
You know that footprints poem? Well, if I go rushing in to carry her she'll never understand what it is to be carried by God.
All I know is I can't imagine her being so far away without her faith.
And I can't imagine me being here without mine.

Golden Air

The air turned gold yesterday.
One day, late August or early September, the air changes and is threaded with gold. Sometimes the gold goes away and summer's blue-white light comes back. But today, the gold returned. The gold means Autumn is pushing Summer off center stage. This year it's been a rather dramatic entrance. Summer didn't put up a fight at all, well, not yet.
I'm loving the change, but it did happen a little too suddenly. The pool is not going to get warm again. Bummer. We thought we'd have this weekend to finish up pool season or maybe even next week. But when our water gets cold, it's cold. And I don't do cold water.
So, no end of summer celebration. No last time in the pool. The last time passed unnoticed.
A toddler's mom recently asked if she should rock her son back to sleep when he unexpectedly woke up crying in the night. I said, "Absolutely, because you never know the last time they cry for you in the night." One day you realize no one has woken you up in a while and the night time vigils are over. The rocking chair gets moved to the living room and those wakeful nights that would never end - end.
Such a balancing act - the Past and the Future. Regrets and Hopes all trying to share space in my little brain and heart. And yet if I don't find room to house all of it, the Present is poorer.
God, give me the ability to mark this time you've given me. To not waste it with either regrets or hopes. To walk the particular balance beam that is my life. To bring it all to This Day.
After all, you've made the very air gold.

Quality or Quanity?

I'm starting Chapter 6 in my new book today. At this point in a book I'm not really sure where it's going. (See this previous blog for what that means.) http://kayshostak.blogspot.com/2009/07/welcome-to-my-world.html
So what I'm writing seems a little discombobulating and I'm not sure that it fits. Last night it hit me that a lot of what I'm writing right now will end up being taken out later because it's not needed to move the story along.
Barbara Kingsolver's book, "The Poisonwood Bible", tells the story through the eyes of five characters. At least that's what the final book is, but she initially wrote the entire book through each character's eyes. Then took parts from each of those to make the book. That's a lot of words to not use. But she wanted to know in her own mind and for her background what each character thought of each happening.
And that's what's going on with me - the scene I wrote yesterday may have been written just so I'd know what was going on at the house, but that may not be needed in the final story.
Made me think about how I often don't take the time to get to know the background and details of folks around me. I want to just get to the interesting part or the part that concerns me.
It's back to that time thing - it takes time to get to know my book characters or other folk. Time that might appear wasted, but makes everything else come into a clearer view.
It's that old argument about raising children, isn't it? Quality versus Quanity. Maybe that's it - to get to the Quality we have to invest some Quanity.
So where, and on whom, do I need to invest some Quanity today?

Over, I Guess.

I’m ready. Ready for the last day of vacation. It’s funny to me that on the first day of vacation I think I could stay forever. This is SO much better than home. But then this morning the humid smell of salt water and wet sand when I opened the balcony door, wasn’t refreshing. Having to walk over to the club house to check email and facebook is tiresome. Nothing on the schedule means making a schedule for each day. That was freeing at first, now it feels kinda loosey goosey. Like the vultures in Jungle Book. “Whadda you wanna do?” “I don’t know. Whadda you wanna do?”
However, something about knowing there is an end to this holiday makes it more special, more precious. Like a special thing sat up out of the reach of children’s hands, maybe even behind glass or in a protective frame. I’ve often been sorry when something beautiful got soiled or broken because I failed to take care of it. With age, I’ve learned to try and value special things before they are gone.
And this first empty-nest vacation, has been special and beautiful. I want to take time today to frame it, protect its memory, and value this week in such a way that it serves its purpose long after it’s gone. This week marks an ending and a beginning. Memories have flooded us when we’ve seen kids in the surf and hope surged as we watched couples a few years ahead of us, walking on the beach holding hands. There has been joy and even champagne toasts at our freedom and then tears when Jimmy Buffet starts singing “Little Miss Magic”.
I’ll never forget this week and, I guess that’s the point.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I am 48 years old today! How awesome to get another birthday. As you can probably already tell, I’m not one of those who laments the passage of time or the adding of another candle to the cake. It’s a privilege to get older.
Right this very minute there are people in the hospital who would give anything – anything to be told they could live to be my age. There are parents who would lay down their own life if it meant their child could be given the chance to one day blow out 48 birthday candles. Thousands are waking up this morning hoping and praying that the drugs or surgeries or treatments they endure will give them enough days to make it to their 48th birthday.
Blessed beyond all comprehension is what I am, just to be breathing. The blessings on top of that are too many to even mention. So it is a very, very happy birthday. I can honestly say – there is no one on earth happier than me.
Let’s all have cake!