Nest Building

My youngest daughter had wisdom teeth surgery and my time is divided.
Another choice from the archive; this Whisper was originally published on April 28, 2015.

This is the season of nests.
Even though the birds think they are hiding them, their nests can still be seen.
The nests are found as the birds fly back and forth.
It is not difficult to follow their path and know what is tucked among the branches.

I have old rusty gates scattered here and there in my garden.
On those gates hang small birdhouses.
Each year, I am delighted when a particular bird chooses one of those little houses.
I love to watch the nest building process from my dining room window.

I am amazed when I see large twigs being carried in the beak of a small bird.
I am utterly fascinated with the things a bird will use to build a nest.
When I shake out the dust mop that I use on my hardwood floors, the birds love it.
I will see what looks like dust bunnies sticking out of the small opening of the birdhouse.

Birds are expert nest builders.
We mothers can relate.

Towards the end of each of my pregnancies, I nested.
It is common for expectant mothers to go into a nesting phase.
Nesting is the need to get everything in order before the baby arrives.
Nesting is the need to make sure that everything is ready for your absence.

I would clean with new found energy right before each baby came.
It was as if I instinctively knew when the baby would arrive.
Especially when I had other children at home, nesting was so important.
I can relate to the bird somehow.

So often, as I go about my day, I run into a frustrated mother.
A mother who is at her wits end.
A mother whose frustrations are being poured out on her child.
The child responds with protests and tears and the cycle continues.

Often, I will try to encourage the mother in some way.
Usually the encouragement is well received with a smile and an appreciative spirit.
Sometimes, no amount of encouragement will change the attitude of the mother.
During those moments I just smile at the child, who inevitably smiles back.

If only a mother knew how fast this time with her young children really is.
If only a mother knew that what feels like an eternity is only the blink of an eye.
If only a mother saw the brevity of the window of time she has been given.
If only the mother knew that there will come a day when her nest will be empty.

No one ever prepares you for that time in your life.
A mother knows it is coming but it seems so far off.
A mother understands that it has to happen; she tells herself that it is part of the process.
But in her heart, she dreads the day.

Mothers get a glimpse of this tearing away when her children go off to school.
The transition between half-day kindergarten to full-day first grade is huge.
Mothers who longed for time to herself find that it is too quiet and a bit too empty.
Her heart lurches; it catches in her throat and she has to swallow hard in acceptance.

The school years seem to go by in a blur, with high school and college in the distance.
But then the college visits begin and the decision is on the horizon.
The reality of four years away from home hits her in the stomach.
There will be breaks; there will be summer vacation, she tells herself.

But it is never the same.
Nor should it be.

When my youngest son came home last week, we were watching family videos.
I reminded him how easy it is to take pictures and videos now.
When my children were growing up, we took videos with a large camera.
A camera resembling a brick that rested on our shoulder and was plugged into the wall.

Tethered to an outlet, you were not free to capture anything you wanted.
You could only go as far as the cord allowed.
Now with an iPhone, videos and pictures are taken with ease.
No developing in the hour photo lab, editing and sharing is a click away.

I enjoyed watching the old videos with my son.
How did the time fly by me so quickly?
When did these tiny infants become the men and women they are today?
How did it happen right under my nose and I was unaware?

The back stairs, where each of the children kept their shoes, are now empty.
The rooms that once had posters on the walls are now a respectable shade of tan.
The sounds of their voices are in every crevice of this house.
Every breath is still somewhere here, every word ever spoken, every tear ever shed.

I never realized that an empty nest would be upon me so quickly.
Raising many children, you think this is the way your life is always going to be.
I think that I will be more intentional to encourage the young mothers I see.
Don’t miss this! I will tell them.

Don’t miss any of it!
Take a mental picture; tuck it away in your mind so you will always remember.
Cherish this precious time in your life.
Before you know it, it will be behind you and you would gladly grab it back again.

An empty nest is really a new beginning.
Each year the birds come back to my whimsical birdhouses.
Thankfully, my children are always popping in and out of my nest here at home.
There will be new voices in my nest and new memories.

My nest will always expand to accommodate those who want to be here.
My back stairs will one day have other shoes, tiny shoes of the next generation.
That’s the way it is with nests.
They are made to hold life.

My nest has done its job well.

Don’t miss this, mothers.
Don’t miss this, fathers.
This time will go by in the blink of an eye.
Make your nest a welcome place, a place of memories, a place to come back to.

All the birds of the air nested in its boughs, all the beasts of the field gave birth under its branches; all the great nations lived in its shade. It was majestic in beauty, with its spreading boughs, for its roots went down to abundant waters. (Ezekiel 31:6,7)