Best Nesters

​Was it only a little more than two years ago that Ella informed us she was leaving for college, that Bob and I were becoming empty nesters? She emphasized that the tears, helicopter hysteria, and constant worrying were acute symptoms of this syndrome. I refused to be called an empty nester and began searching for alternative expressions that might adequately portray the depth of what it feels like for parents to watch their kids leave the nest. We deserve better than a tired cliché of a clinical expression.
 
Inspiration struck during a trip down memory lane — literally, Highway 27 — that reminded me of a gray day from my freshman year of college. I was headed back to Auburn on a Sunday afternoon in my sassy red Firebird. The problem was that I did not want to leave our Dooly County cabin, the security of home, the cozy fireplace, or my grandparents. It was 1989, and I had been grown just long enough to realize that home was far easier and more comfortable than calculus, economics, and life on my own. Auburn was fun, but those courses were humbling.
 
In a moment of near-rebellion, I turned around and drove back. When Mama and Daddy met me at the door, I informed them between hiccups and tears that I would not be returning to college. Without hesitation, they gently walked me to the car, diverting my attempts to rush inside.
 
Hugging me, Daddy said, "We got this." My mom and grandparents loaded up in one car, and my dad climbed in the driver's side of mine. "We are going to drive until you feel like you can go the rest of the way on your own."
 
Forty miles later, the crisis passed. Even though I still very much wanted to turn back, I realized that my parents had given me the strength and peace to continue without them. 
 
For many years, I relied on this strength as I learned how to trust God as the source of all I needed. Psalm 84:3 tells us that "Even the sparrow has found a home… a place near Your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God." My parents built their best nest at the altar of our Holy Lord. They were my best nesters.
 
Best nesters. I like it.
 
Bob and I marvel that the nest we’ve built over twenty-three years hasn’t crumbled, and we wonder where the time went now that our three birdies are grown and gone. Our nest, tested by hardships, is also bound up with hard work, laughter, and a love for Christ. As parents, we put our kids in the metaphorical car of life and ride with them until they continue without us.

Elise, Dallas, and Ella now manage to circle back to us from time to time with renewed appreciation of the home we built for them. We smile (sometimes laugh) as they construct their lives with spouses, children, and careers, knowing that we did our best to raise them to walk in His word. All we can do now is pray that they choose to carry the strength of our family nest built at the altar of God. Our nest is far from perfect, but it is also far from empty.  
 
Best nesters. Yes, I'll keep it.
 
By the way, this clever new name does not ease my symptoms of worrying, crying, or piloting a mama-made helicopter. Only time and travel do that.

I love my house, I love my nest. In all the world this nest is best. -  P.D. Eastman, The Best Nest

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