Metaphorically, I’m writing this from a blank sheet of paper, having just attained a significant long-term goal, yet unsure what the future will hold. My youngest has graduated from high school. I couldn’t be more thrilled with the gift it has been to parent, and even more so with the relationship I have with both of them. As I enforced Kumon homework, kindness to classmates, and earlier curfews than friends, it was all for this goal, this next phase, to launch them into adulthood with skills to make their own decisions and manage their time well.

As proud as I am that they are excited to explore college, internships, and living in new cities, here and abroad, I feel a void in my heart. I know that my job of being “Mom” will never end, but the task-mastering, calendar-scheduling, and especially the sharing of everything that is on their heart and mind in the moment, won’t happen because we’ll no longer be together in all those moments.

They are each at the beginning of their life journey, full of gusto to change the world, where there’s no limit to how their dreams can take flight! And I want all of this for them. I am so excited for them, but there is a piece of me that is mourning. The piece that loved being their momma: the hugs, the playfulness, and endless time together. Watching them discover new creative spaces, areas they were designed to excel in, and even working through the areas they desired deeply, but just weren’t made for. I’m so thankful they’ve been surrounded by teachers, faith influencers, and podcasters who’ve inspired them to ignite their dreams into motion, one who even had them write a letter to their future self. All the hard work is paying off, and as my husband says, “This is success!”

I’m very fortunate a dear friend, Becky, prepared for me and my husband for this moment with a profound observation: “When the youngest leaves the house, Kristie is retiring from a job that she has loved and has done a great job at, yet there will be no corporate gift, no retirement fan fair, just hollowness in her heart as she no longer has to report to duty twenty-four-seven.”

I understood what she was saying the night she said it, and I am feeling it deeply now that the retirement announcement has been made.

Looking over my 20-year career and the wisdom I’ve gained, I can clearly see the deepening of my faith and my dependence on God. Starting with the unexpected emergency room overnight with my first pregnancy, God has used parenting to grow my faith and to recommit my life to Him. He has reprioritized my focus from racing after my career to developing and leading the young minds at home. He has pulled me into the simple scripture teachings that have stood the test of time, teaching them to my children and reinforcing them in me. Time and time again, He has shown me how we are created by the Sole Creator, and how He gives us His abundant love.

As a blogger, I share personal information that most people keep hidden in a journal. Yet, there is comfort in the written word being available for God to use for those He directs it to, and for each of us to refer to. In writing this, I chose to step back into my own shoes of a similar situation two years ago, as I dropped off my first child at college. Not surprisingly, I was feeling similarly excited and heavy then, too. Not only did I survive our daughter leaving, but I can also see two years’ worth of God showing up for her: an amazing church, leading her faith group, and a group of friends who love her and Him. Yes, her classes are difficult, harder than school has ever been, but she knows where to get her strength (God above) and where to release her worries (the gym…and prayer). She is maturing in ways I didn’t think would occur until post-college, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.

I also see new activities and passion projects He has brought into my life. So, at the same time I am pushed from center stage to the side wing of my children’s stories, it’s time to create new plans for me. In the slower pace of summer, I’ll take this blank sheet of paper and start sketching out new goals and dreams about the next season.

This is one of those life moments when I wish I could pick up the phone and call God for suggestions and His recommendations. Or that He presented my parents with the “Kristie Life Plan” when I was born, one I could flip open to this timeframe and read what the next steps are. But that’s not how He operates. So, I’ll go to the communication style that has worked for us over the years: I read His Word and instructions in the Bible, then talk to Him through prayer throughout the day. He answers by leading me to scripture, faithful friends randomly calling, a Godstop, and even a couple of visions. It’s our rhythm of communication that led me to scripture two years ago, reminding me how He will never forget me, just like a loving parent will never forget their little child.

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me. Your children hasten back, and those who laid you waste depart from you. Lift up your eyes and look around; all your children gather and come to you. As surely as I live,” declares the LORD, “you will wear them all as ornaments; you will put them on, like a bride.” Isaiah 49:15-18

God sees my mourning and the void in my heart, so He comforts me by reminding me I was made for Him to love me (Colossians 1:16), that He has an incredible plan for me, with Him by my side (Ephesians 1:1-11). He is teaching me to understand that my time on earth is a dress rehearsal for what will become in eternity.

In our time together, I bet God guides me to deepen friendships, allowing more vulnerability and trust. I bet He will use my family and me to further His economy. It could be in stewarding our money and resources differently, or serving people in our community, maybe through encouraging words by keeping this blog going. I know I’ll be asking God to show me what He has entrusted me with, yes, my children for sure, but also my marriage, my family of origin, the believer friends He has surrounded me with, and what His desires are (Luke 12:48). Just like I’m able to look back at the seeds my time mothering my daughter has resulted in great fruit, I’ll be able to see the fruit and maturity in faith my son will be demonstrating, too (Ephesians 4:10-16).

Something new I am learning this time, though, is that I’ll never be completely happy here, because my body, heart and soul are created for Heaven, not the broken earth (Ecclesiastes 3:11). I will always have an ache for more God, more goodness, and for eternity, just like I will always want one more minute and one more hug from my children.

Prayer – Lord, this is a season in which I need You more than ever. My heart aches as I reach the milestone of empty-nesting. I adore my children and thank You for entrusting them to me. Keep watch and protection over them, for they have learned to love You deeply and desire to bring more of Your kingdom here. Keep teaching me about eternity and how I can help guide more friends to join us there. Your loving daughter, Amen.