Our house is quiet these days. Too quiet sometimes We are officially “empty nesters” and I’m not so sure I like it. We moved our youngest into an apartment this past summer. The only way I was even a little OK with this scenario is because he moved in with his brother, our eldest son, who has been out of the nest for awhile now. We moved our youngest daughter into her first apartment this summer as well. She had been sharing an apartment with her sister for a couple of years. And that sister, our oldest child, we just gave away in marriage last month.

I miss the hustle and bustle of a full house. Years ago, the quiet moments were much desired, even yearned for. Now I have all the quiet moments I want. I often find myself just sitting. Sitting and reflecting on how quickly the years passed. I have heard it said, “The days are long, but the years are short.” So, so true.

When I was changing diapers, scaling Mount Laundry, running on little to no sleep I felt the days would never end. Nap time could not come soon enough. But as the birthdays came and went, diaper bags disappeared and braces appeared. First jobs were obtained, drivers licenses triumphantly awarded and college classes started.

And now, our house is quiet. We have a guest room. And more space than we can fill. I don’t tuck them in at night anymore or call them to breakfast in the morning.

But, they call me. Every day I talk to all four of them. Oftentimes, they call just to say “Hi” and check in with me. I make a point to try and talk to them at night before bed. It’s my “tuck in” I suppose, which is one of the routines I miss the most.

So, here I sit. In a quiet house. The kids are all working and schooling and stepping into their adult shoes on a daily basis. Though I miss the sweetness of childhood and little hands holding mine, I enjoy the friendships developing with each of my adult children. And sometimes a hand still reaches for mine and we walk a ways together. And then they let go and dash off again into adulthood and the quiet settles around me.

Then a still, small Voice whispers to my mama heart, “I’ve got them. I’ve got you too. Trust Me, child.”

And I know I must. So I do.

I trust Him.

I let go and step into my own, new adult shoes.