From the Nest

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you.  I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”—Isaiah 46:4

Time for another coloring, I decide, examining my reflection in the vanity mirror, my silver strands decorating my head like tinsel on a Christmas tree, reminding me that I’m not getting any younger.  I wipe the sleep from my eyes.  But I can’t wipe away the wrinkles—or the knot in my stomach.

Slipping two slices of bread into the toaster, I somehow know that breakfast can’t ease the ache either.  Christmas goodies line the counter, but overindulgence isn’t the culprit for the pain.  Handmade by my daughter and step grandsons, the desserts serve as a reminder of the happy time we shared just four days prior, my tiny cottage bursting at the seams with eleven loved ones squished together on every square inch of my well-worn furniture, shreds of gift wrap and “Ooos” and “Ahhhs” flying through the air.

Not a voice can be heard this morning, though—unless you count the occasional whine from Kobe the dog, who misses them as well.

Some call it the empty nest syndrome. I call it loneliness.  All my children are on their own.  Well, almost.  My youngest is due to marry in a couple months.  Meanwhile, she’s in college—and the college bills are coming my way, adding to my already overwhelming stack of bills for her sister’s education. With the number in my household dwindling along with my finances, I’m struggling in more ways than one.

Coffee cup in one hand and toast in the other, I retreat to my bedroom for some quiet time with God.  But I wonder how He must tire of hearing me pray over the same list. I’m tired of it myself.  I’m tired of reading the same promises from His word, those I’ve scrawled in the margin of my wearisome sheet of requests about direction and finances and opportunities.  How long must I continue? Will they ever come to fruition?

No sooner than the question enters my mind, another thought comes.  A picture, actually—a scene from a few days prior.

Driving along the gravel road toward my home on the farm, I come upon my brother, grading the road at the edge of a stream that we usually drive through.  (Grading is a tedious process involving a heavy construction machine fitted with a long blade used to smooth a surface.)  I stop my car and watch as he maneuvers the blade up and down, back and forth, making the way smooth. Suddenly, a chubby brown sparrow lights upon my windshield wiper and peeks at me through the windshield. I chuckle at the surprising sight.

This morning I chuckle again, as I reread the familiar Scriptures scribbled on my page.

“I will…make the rough places smooth.”—Isaiah 42:16

“See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”—Isaiah 43:19

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.  And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”—Matthew 10:29-31

Dear Lord, thank You for all the ways You remind me that You hear my prayer and see my pain.  You send a sparrow from a nest to let me know that You care about my empty nest, and not a single silver strand can fall from my head without You knowing. Thank You for reminding me of Your promise that You are making a way for me. I love You. Amen.