Faith to Face an Empty Nest
Last summer, my husband and I took a short retreat to camp on the shores of one of our favorite Colorado lakes. We’d camped here with our daughters several times before but couldn’t coordinate our schedules to go together this year. Our eldest was newly married, and the other two were busy with summer jobs and preparing to leave for college in a few weeks—the youngest for her first year.
After we set up camp, my husband headed into the lake’s mossy inlet on his paddle board, slowly drifting with his fly rod in hand in search of hungry trout. As I ventured out alone on my board in the opposite direction, I felt lonely in the vastness of the wide-open lake ahead with no one nearby to share the moment with.
So this is what the empty nest will feel like, I thought. Just the two of us taking trips to familiar places, seeing glimpses of past adventures with our girls. They weren’t afraid to leave the “nest” for college or marriage—I should be happy about that. Yet my eyes welled with warm, salty tears as I quickly reversed my strokes and turned back toward the inlet and some company.
Once in view, I saw my husband waving his free hand, then pointing toward the towering, thin trees along the forested shore. Nestled into the highest boughs of a nearby tree was a large, snugly woven eagle’s nest—with two tiny heads poking out above its walls! I could hear their animated chirping. Soon, a significantly louder response came from the other side of the inlet, where the trees were thicker and the mother eagle could camouflage while still keeping watch.
I pulled out my phone to shoot some video as the eagle chicks continued their clamor. I wish the girls could see this. New tears began to pool up under my sunglasses. Attentive mother eagles eventually push their young out of the nest when ready—and don’t despondently dread the day they take flight. So why do we call this grief empty-nest syndrome?
Have you ever been overwhelmed by the impact of a change you thought you were ready to handle? Maybe you’re facing an empty nest like I was, or another season of transition has caught you off guard. It’s surprising how quickly fear can swoop in when your stability is shaken by inevitable change.
Even though leaving the nest doesn’t end our relationship with our children, the loss can be crushing. If we’re not losing those relationships, what have we lost? Truthfully, I wasn’t afraid to let my girls spread their wings and fly, but to lose control—over my environment and my role in their lives—was another story.
Jesus used the birds to illustrate the Father’s attentive care for His creations (Matt. 6:26), which hits home when I consider how I felt about my empty nest. A young eagle being pushed over the edge to take flight is losing one source of food and protection, but the Father’s design provides sustenance and purpose from that point forward. And aren’t our children more valuable than the birds?
Friend, God knows what you need to get through this season of change. He’s not only providing for you now, but He will go before you to support your next steps (Deuteronomy 31:8, Psalm 139:5). Although I’m no expert at navigating this empty nest transition, I am comforted by my faith in God’s provision for my daughters and myself as we move into this new season. He knows what’s ahead for us and He’s preparing and equipping us for those changes.
In the meantime, He holds us all in His protective grip—and that will never change.
Questions for Reflection:
- Are you facing or trying to recover from an empty nest? Or are you feeling overwhelmed by another life transition?
- What has God provided to help you navigate major changes in the past? Can you see God working in this season of change?
