Wait. What Just Happened?

I was recently captivated by a picture hanging in our bedroom. My husband fell in love with it the moment he saw it. While attending the JDRF Gala for a friend, he took a quick trip to check out the auction items and returned, excitedly declaring, "I found the perfect picture, and I want you to see it." He has a keen eye for design—arguably better than mine—and possesses an incredible gift for planning and placement. I wasn't surprised he chose this piece; it fit perfectly in our bedroom sitting area, with colors, textures, and an overall aesthetic that felt like us. However, he saw so much more. "This is us," he said. "This is our nest, and it represents my three girls." That’s him through and through—his whole world wrapped in a beautiful canvas. Yes, I am still struck by its beauty and his heart, but this time, I saw the picture in a completely different light. The brightness of the eggs led my gaze to the birds in flight beyond the nest, and suddenly, this too became our reality. We turned 50 and became empty nesters. How and when did this happen? Every adage I've ever heard rings true: "The days are long, but the years are short," "The older you get, the faster time goes," and in a Nashville nod to Trace Adkins, "You're gonna miss this." Let’s be clear: I understand how we got here. I lived it. We raised our girls with the intention of preparing them to take flight. My father often said, "I didn't raise you to live in my backyard!" He also joked that being the father of three girls meant two things: they always want to "come" home, and they are never off the payroll. Both statements hold truth. He raised us to be independent, strong, service-minded women, challenging us to follow wherever God called us. That has been our mantra as well. However, let’s retrace the last five years. Between 45 and 50, we raised two teenage girls, navigated through COVID (enough said), taught them to drive, rode the proverbial high school roller coaster (don’t do it), buried my father after an unexpected massive heart attack, moved my in-laws to a new state, supported my mother's grief journey and grueling health battle from afar, and experienced two senior years back to back. We made it. But now, what’s next? My situation is neither unique nor impressive, and that’s exactly the point. I know many are in this stage, and I want to relish and savor what happened, then adjust to what’s next. Let’s go! My dearest friend from college and I are diving into Mel Robbins' book "Let Them" (the playbook for a 50-year-old menopausal woman). This morning, we revisited a line from Mary Oliver's poem The Summer Day: "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" Bottom line—it’s time to find out. In a world that often feels like a hot mess, I want to challenge myself to love my family well, embrace the gift of a transitional relationship with our almost-adult children, and experience life, love, adventure, fellowship, and friendship with unabashed excitement. So, yes! It happened. It is brutal, beautiful, fast, felt like forever, and is a journey blessed by God. Now, it’s time to circle the wagons, put on my big girl pants, and rediscover myself, our marriage, and our future! Who’s in? LET'S GO!