Empty--inspired by an empty nest conversation.

Jan Richardson wrote: “You could not imagine that something so empty could fill you.”—Painted Prayerbook.

                Recently while quilting with a group of women, we began to talk about the empty nest.  We are a group of women at a variety of ages and with a variety of thoughts on the empty nest.  One of the women still has children at home and I know there are times when all think the grass is greener on the other side.  As we talked about the emotions behind our experiences we realized they all varied.  Some struggled with each child’s departure and others of us found it easier with each good-bye. 

                Our traditional response to Easter is “Christ is risen” followed by “He is risen indeed!”  Christ was with the disciples, with the Marys, with the people for a short time.  Like us often the good-bye in death includes returning to the burial site. When the women arrive to the tomb they find it empty.  They were not ready for good-byes, they were not ready to move on without him and they must have wondered how they could manage without Christ beside them.

 Would they recognize the best and be able to ignore the worst in each other without Christ telling some story for them figure out? Who would distract them from judgement?  Who would ask them to pray?  Who would have faith in THEM?

                I think of 20 years of “school years” parenting and would anyone know that about me at that time, about me as a parent?  Would anyone know I taught 3 teenagers to drive?  Would anyone know that my husband pitched more baseballs than I could ever count? 

The question of the empty nest might very well be—who will we be now without them?  Who will distract us from the stresses of work and home?  Who will we pray for in the wee hours of the night?  Who else would ever have as much faith in us as they did?

                Our nest has been “empty” for some time now but occasionally it is full of all our children, their partners and their children.  When we are all together the space is full.  Full of a vibrating energy, it is joyful, it is noisy and it is crowded.  As the flock slowly takes leave, one by one, I begin to breathe. 

                With each breath, with each lego and farm animal put away, with each lone toddler’s sock stuck in a cushion, I begin to feel.  It is with that one last flop on the couch that I look at that empty space and I am full.  I am full of memories, full of joy, full of worry as well.  The kind of fullness I feel in that emptiness feels too big for my heart almost—it is almost pain—full.

When the room is empty who will know us? 

 The stone is rolled away, the tomb is empty and like the disciples we might ask “Who are we now?”   We are Easter people, defined not by an empty tomb but by a risen Christ.