I have struggled with empty nest. I miss making snacks, reading bedtime stories, sitting in a rocking chair with a babe on my lap, my chin resting on their soft hair. I miss all of it.
You could have never told me, I’d miss this, when the dishes were piled high, when little people wanted ‘just one more story’, when I felt glued to a rocking chair, or when one of my cubs would wipe their snot on my t-shirt. I always notice the overwhelmed mamas, and I want to tell them, “You’ll miss this.” But I know better.
Over the past year I have seen this woman often. She always sits alone, she always has a glass of red wine, she eats her meal slowly, savoring each bite. She is clearly fighting the battle of her life, in the midst of the battle, she lives.
We have chatted a few times, I pray for her daily, and cheer her on from my ringside seat.
A few months ago I heard a poet say that she always has her eyes open, she’s always looking and watching people. Sometimes she is so distracted she trips over her own two feet.
I decided to start paying attention, and what I saw were women, who were living as the salt of the earth. They are makers, warriors, fighters – they are weary, waiting, wondering – they are serving, shepherding and becoming.
I decided to write about them and post a poem a week. I hope you enjoy – and as we take a glimpse into their lives, you just might see yourself.