The empty nest
It was a Friday night, around 8ish. We had just pulled into the garage after leaving our youngest of four children at college. As I stepped out of the car, a small brown bird rushed past me, startling me and itself. A comic scene ensued as we attempted to show the frightened flying creature the way out.
The following morning, as I was getting in my car to go to the grocery store, I noticed a bird’s nest on the wire shelving above me.
Now, though my children tease me about saying “It’s a sign,” it is true that I see the world full of signifiers pointing to a greater reality beyond the ordinary – “the heavens are telling the glory of God.” (However, my kids are right, we can make too much of ‘signs’ and interpret them for our own purposesJ — there, I admitted it!).
So, since the phrase “empty nest” has been repeated probably over 500 times, either by me or others, in recent months, I took note. I actually climbed up on our riding lawn mower (please don’t tell my husband!), held my camera high above my head, and took a photo, because I wanted to see if the nest was “empty.” And sure enough, as you can see, it was.
You can imagine that I immediately saw the flashing sign of an empty nest right above my car as a sweet signifier of God’s kindness, and you’d be right. The unexpected message announced itself in the photograph. I had no idea, but you can see it – an empty nest is – well, a work of art. As delicately designed as a Faberge egg, twigs and pine straw and squiggly vines interlaced, remnants of nestlings’ down scattered with the memories of early days of snuggled safety. The empty nest swells with the signs of lives tended, nurtured, fed, loved, and sent to fly.
I thought of Naomi in the book of Ruth saying, “I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty.” (Ruth 1:20). What if, I wonder, the things we think are empty may actually be full? Any thoughts?
