Life Under Construction

It was wonderful while it lasted.

Three years ago, when our daughter moved into her own home with the boys, I wasn\’t sure I\’d make it. I missed them, and I worried about them. Over time, though, we got used to them being gone. It was right that Jenni and the boys should be in their own home.

Life settled into a comfortable pace for us. I came home each evening to a house that was in the same condition as when I left it that morning. I also had a chance to decompress from work without walking into a different maelstrom at the house.

That all changed about a month ago. A very tearful daughter showed up at our house on a Sunday evening, distressed and afraid. It appeared that the situation at her apartment, which she was sharing with her boyfriend (!), had gotten uncomfortable. Within three days, she and boys had moved back in our house. Let the party begin!

It took a couple of weeks for us to fully accept that we were no longer going to enjoy a nice, quiet evening for a while. Readjusting to the new house dynamics was a challenge for all the adults. The kids, on the other hand, were celebrating the bigger space and the stress-free ability to now be kids.

But you know what? It\’s a bump in the empty-nest season that I can live with. When I go to sleep at night now, I know that my daughter and my grandsons are SAFE. I know that she\’s not being kept up until the wee hours of the morning by an alcoholic, narcissitic man who doesn\’t care about her responsibilities or how she\’ll be able to function with so little sleep, just so that he can rant about some perceived \”disrespect\” to him. I know that my grandsons aren\’t being stuck in a little bedroom with a t.v. for a babysitter, because he\’s busy with his noisy friends in their living room; or because they just don\’t like being around him. My little grandsons can now speak to their mother without having to watch out of the corner of their eye to see how he\’s going to react.

Empty-nesting is great. We\’ll get back to that. Hopefully, when that happens for us, we will also sleep well knowing that the kids are all in a better situation.

It\’s all good.

For several years, I begged three or four of the young men in our church youth group to go to camp with us. Their excuses were creative and varied, but bottom line was, they didn’t think camp was “for” them. Now, these are good kids, every one. They have grown up in church, attend a Christian school, are active in sports, have jobs. These fellas competed in Bible Drill competitions and constantly came away winners—good kids.

Bored kids.

In my heart, I felt that if they could be removed from their comfortable environments, where they were admired and loved by everyone (no kidding—they are), that they might possibly be challenged to stretch beyond that boredom. So, I never quit begging. Finally, in January this year, they all agreed to go to camp this ONE time, just for me (so I’d shut up!). I didn\’t care what their reason was. I didn’t care that their moms had possibly ganged up on them. I just didn’t care why–I was ecstatic that they were going. I began praying immediately. I constantly reminded them how happy I was they were going to camp. \”It\’s going to be such a great time,\” I told them.

Camp came, and the first three days of camp, the guys played along, but I could sense they weren\’t really getting into it. God was at work, of course, and things were going on in the background that I didn\’t know about. One of the guys made fun of his counselor, how he was so silly and \”out there.\” However, during their Bible study time early in the week, this counselor had shared his testimony with his group, and my guy heard about a life of pain and abuse that he could only imagine in his perfect world. It began to work on his soul.

One of the fellas stepped out of his comfort zone and reached out to one of the shy-est kids in our group. It was not something he might do in another world, but he acted in the moment, and came away a better person for having done so.

In addition, these young men watched how we chaperones treated all our kids, regardless of economic standing or position in the world of teenager-dom . They watched as my husband–their pastor and a man they truly admire–cried through worship hymns one evening as he experienced God’s touch on his heart. And they began to think– but not out loud; I doubt one of the fellas knew what the other three were thinking about at all–that would have been way too \”wussy\” to talk about.

On Thursday evening, when I entered the auditorium a few minutes early to find our seats and spend a few minutes praying for our kids, I felt a huge difference in the air. I knew something was up. So I began to pray. I prayed for every single seat of our group and for the young life that would be sitting in that chair that evening. And sure enough, when the service began, I knew, I knew, I knew God had been at work that day.

The praise leader came onto the stage, and it was clear he had been crying. He told the kids, \”I\’m not going to tell you how to worship tonight–if you want to stand, you stand. If you want to sit, you sit. Hands up or down, you do what God leads you to do. I only ask this. Do just one thing differently than you would normally do. Step out of your comfort zone for just a bit, and ask God to meet you there.\” Wow, wow, wow. After about a half hour (me crying most of that), it was clear that God was working and the Holy Spirit was moving. The guys were two rows behind me, and when I happened to glance back to check on everyone, I noticed they were visibly touched by what was happening around them and in them.

We never had a sermon that evening. The speaker told us to just continue worshipping as we were and then go to our group study. As we finished singing and headed out the door, all the girls were in front of me. I counted them all and then turned around to find the guys. They caught up with me, clearly touched, having been convicted by the Holy Spirit and with greater emotion than I’d witnessed in them as long as I’d know them. We walked to the room where our group met each evening and spent the next two hours talking, praying, repenting, and encouraging each other. God got hold of those young men that night. It’s been several weeks since that evening, and I still feel as if my heart will burst with the memory.

Next day, one of the guys went to the campus bookstore and bought a new Bible. Another of the fellas called Dave from the bookstore the next week with questions about Bibles. He ended up buying a new Bible, a young man\’s study and a couple other things. A couple of the young men took their iPods to the youth minister and asked him to take off the music they didn\’t need and put some of his Christian music on for them. All of them have a look in their eyes that tells of the change God has made in their hearts. They were all good kids to begin with—no question in my mind about that. Now, they are good kids who love Jesus, for real. It shows in their eyes, in their words, and in their actions.

God is so good.

I don\’t imagine that my life is any busier than yours. Probably, we all manage to fill our lives with more activity than we need or want. A couple of months ago, I went 11 straight days with scheduled activities every night after work. I was not in my home any of those evenings for any longer than it took to shower and get in the bed so I could start all over the next day. Needless to say, I was a little tired at the end of those days.

My husband–my sweet, sweet husband–suggested that I take a week where I did absolutely nothing after work–no trips across town to pay bills for my mama, no grandsons spending the night, not even go to church if I didn\’t want to go. That take-the-week-off idea appealed greatly to me! Now, what week to take? It seemed every week after that 11-day stretch had some previously scheduled event, so finding the unscheduled week was not that easy.

But the week did come–and this is it! So here\’s how I\’m doing it…. Every afternoon when I leave work, I turn off my phone–no texting and no talking on the phone. I had planned to sit around and do nothing at all, but I just can\’t do that. I do have eyes, and I can see stuff that needs doing. Sitting around and staring at the work that needed to be done would not have been restful at all. SO, I\’m doing one thing a night.

Last night I cleaned out my china cabinet. I am amazed at how much I had managed to cram into that cabinet and hutch over the last nine years! I ended up with FIVE boxes full of dishes that I took into the basement for storing, and I still managed to refill the cabinet. Only now I don\’t worry about something falling out on my feet when I open the doors.

Tonight I cleaned up my study so that I can actually sit at my desk and study without having to shift stacks out of the way to find a workspace.

Tomorrow night my project will be to get the kids to church. I hadn\’t planned to go to church, but I have a real problem with not being in church when I am able, so I\’ll go. Plus, the kids are learning Bible verses and have contests each week to share how many verses they have learned. If I don\’t pick them up–all NINE of them–they might not get there. I want them to feel the importance of learning all they can about the Bible and getting to church as often as they are able to do so.

Thursday and Friday, who knows? Maybe I will just take one or both of those nights and do nothing. That might work–if I sit around with a blindfold over my eyes!

Ten years ago my daughter became a mother. Today she has three sons ages 10, 7, and 4. They each have their own special personality, and they are all active little boys! Some nights their granddaddy and I watch them for Jenni, and love them as much as we do, by the end of most of those evenings, we are exhausted. However, this article is not about me; it’s about my daughter, the mother of three little boys.

When Jenni brought Nate home from the hospital ten years ago, she was only 19 years old. I can remember walking into her room each night as she cared for him. He slept with her, and I’d stand in the door and watch her arrange his little blankets and get him cozy before she’d make herself comfortable. I felt great pleasure watching the way she protected and cared for him.

Over the years since her first child was born, we’ve had occasional differences of opinion about parenting. Times and trends have changed, and actions I took with my children aren’t necessarily the norm today. Many times as we discussed styles of parenting, Jenni took my advice—sometimes she did it her way. Ultimately, when all is said and done, I have to say I’m very proud of the way she mothers her children.

I was reminded of her abilities just recently when my youngest grandson had his tonsils removed. I picked Jenni and A.J. up at 5:45 am and off to the hospital we went. When the nurses called A.J.’s name, Jenni took his little hand and led him back to pre-op. He looked so tiny, and he was so sweet as he clutched her hand and walked along beside her. After they were situated and I went back to see them, Jenni was lying on the bed with A.J., and they were playing and laughing. She managed to keep him fairly calm before he was taken to surgery; and although she was very nervous, she managed to maintain her calm in his presence.

After surgery, we waited in A.J.’s hospital room for the nurses to bring him to us. As soon as he was carried into the room and saw his mommy, he began crying. Immediately Jenni was beside him, comforting him, whispering in his ear to calm him down. She lay beside him on the bed, and in no time he was sleeping again. She didn’t leave his side as she watched over him with her mother love.

Jenni, this is for you. While we don’t always agree on the day-to-day of motherhood, and while our styles of mothering may have some differences, I freely admit that I am proud of the mother you are. Life is not easy much of the time, but you still manage to make sure your sons know how much they are loved. They clearly adore you.

Little A.J. recently whispered in your ear, “You’re a good mommy.” I couldn’t agree more.

Our daughter had her first child when she was 19, her second child three years later, and her last child two years after that. Because she is a single mom and needed help with the boys while she worked, she lived with us. Honestly, that didn’t really work all that well. From her perspective, it was as if she were still a child living at home with her parents. We had our share of disagreements (at least a hundred thousand or so). The living situation just wasn’t the best, because the tension of adults very loudly sharing their different perspectives transferred over to the little guys.

About a year-and-a-half ago, Jen told us she was moving into her own home. She had found an apartment within her price range and felt that the time had come. She was right, of course, it was time. Her dad and I helped her get her belongings moved in, bought her some groceries, gave her a little cash, and returned to a child-free home for the first time in more than 30 years.

At first, I thought I might never get used to the quiet that engulfed the house after living with noisy little boys running around, leaving near-tornado results in their wake. They had always been with us. I loved them with every ounce of my being, and having them gone from under foot every minute of the day wasn’t as enjoyable as I had dreamed it might be.

At first.

Eventually, I began to notice the change. I would leave for work and find the house in the same condition when I got home that evening. I noticed it was quieter, and I was calmer. This really helped when the boys came over, because the day-to-day stress wasn’t there anymore. One day I looked around the house and thought, “Hmm, maybe now I can fix these rooms up like I’ve wanted to do.” We’d bought the house as a fixer-upper, but the years had taken away the desire to do much with the house in our struggle to simply stay sane.

So 2009 was a good year for me. I began working on those home improvements, a little slower than I might have tackled them ten years ago, but getting the work accomplished nonetheless. With the grandsons around the corner from us, we were able to see them as often as we wished. Our son and daughter-in-love live about 7 hours from us, normally allowing us to see them only twice a year. In 2009 we saw them five or six times! On one of their visits my son commented that I was more fun to be around in my “old age.” When I asked him what he meant by that, he said that I seemed more relaxed and I laughed a whole lot more about things.

Saturdays are a real treat for me now, because I am able to visit with my other family members, plan an evening with our adult friends, or do any number of things I want to do, as opposed to babysitting most of the day away without accomplishing any of my plans. Best of all, we can have one of the boys over for the night and really enjoy having them with us. So all in all, empty-nesting has been a good thing for my husband and me.

As I struggled through the years of having our daughter and grandsons living with us and all the drama involved with that, folks would ask me, “How do you deal with it all?” My reply was that this was just a season of life, and it would eventually pass into a different season. I’ve looked at life that way for many years, and it has been what has kept me going when a current “season” wasn’t so much fun. I believed that every season was God-ordained, so I clung to the knowledge that God was in control and to the promise that He would bring good from every challenge I was facing.

This new season as an empty-nester holds much promise. My husband and I can once again carry on a quiet conversation, or simply sit together in comfortable silence with no distractions. We are able to plan vacations, or go out to dinner every now and then; and I’ve especially noticed my husband once again enjoys having folks come into the home now that it isn’t full and noisy all the time. Best of all, we are freed up to spend more time in the Word of God, and focus on particular aspects of our own personal walk with God.

As I said before, some of the seasons I’ve traveled through have not been easy. I believe, however, that in every season—good or challenging—God has much to teach. The lessons that I have learned are not just for my benefit, either. Every lesson learned is an opportunity to help someone else who is struggling with the same issues, to share what I have been taught by God and to encourage them to know that God will help them too.

I will more than likely face new challenges in the days ahead. Recently, my husband and I have found ourselves to be members of what I have coined the “sandwich” generation, taking care of grandchildren on one end of the spectrum, as well as caring for aging parents at the other end. I have no doubt that we will learn lessons as we face the challenges of this new role. Thankfully, we both believe that God is stronger than the challenges, and He will be with us every step of the way. He is, after all, the Master of the seasons.

Claudette Wood
© 2009

For the past several years, my husband has asked me the same question, “What resolutions have you made for the New Year?”

My answer has consistently been, “None.”

Seriously, if I could remember the last time I actually kept even one resolution, I might consider making new ones. The simple fact is that I have begun many a January 1 with a list of resolutions for the year, all of which have been broken by January 2. So forget it. And the list is almost exactly the same every year. I could just pull out my list from ten years ago and re-date it. Come on, ladies, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you? My list reads like this: Number one, read through the Bible; number two, lose weight; number three, spend less money (seriously?).

All this is not to say that resolutions aren’t a good thing. Making resolutions helps us check our priorities, consider where we want our lives to have traveled by year’s end, and gives us a direction in which to move. A person who actually accomplishes the goals on her list is doing a good thing. I’ve accomplished one or two things on my lists in the past, but not enough to actually feel the benefit of making the lists for the future. I don’t need that kind of guilt.

But, okay, just for the fun of it, let’s say I was going to make some resolutions for this coming year, and I wanted it to be different from past lists—you know, something I could actually see myself accomplishing. What sorts of things would I put on this list? I’ve considered this for a while, and here’s what I decided upon. A good place to begin, I suppose, is with my relationships. God first, of course. I’d want to spend more time in the Word, getting to know my Father better. That’s a worthy goal, one that would benefit me daily and eternally. So far, so good. Then, of course, is the relationship with my husband. Now that we are empty-nesters, I could work to be sure our relationship doesn’t grow stale, but moves out in new directions. That could be lots of fun. I like that goal.

Next on my list would be my children and grandchildren. I’d like to further develop the friendship I have formed with my two adult children—spend more time talking with them and learning what’s happening in their lives; perhaps make more opportunities to visit with each other and maybe even go on a trip together. That’s a good goal for the list. As far as my grandsons are concerned, I could write a book. I would like to fill their lives with love, kisses, hugs and back scratches (only grandma knows how to do this properly, I’m told). I’d like to teach them more about Jesus, of course. I could make plans with their mom to take them to movies, have sleepovers, eat pizza, make cookies, stir kool-aid—any activity that involves interaction with grandma. Okay, so let’s add that to my list.

Oh, and then there are my friends. I have some very good friends, and over the last year I have begun reconnecting with friends as far back as high-school days. I’d probably add that to my list as something valuable to be continued in the year ahead.

I suppose if I were going to break down and make a list of resolutions, these are the sorts of goals I would set for myself. It is certainly different from past lists I’ve made, and it might even be an achievable list. I don’t know, though. I could just do these things without that list hanging over my head all year long. These types of goals don’t really need a list as a reminder, anyway, right?

One year, for the children’s sermon at church, I rolled up a scroll with a list of resolutions on it. As I flipped open that long scroll that ran down my legs and out onto the floor, the congregation erupted in laughter. It was a fun moment, and allowed me an avenue to make a serious point. We can make all the plans we wish, but life doesn’t follow a list. One moment or one word could literally move my life into a different direction.

Life certainly can be full of surprises. However, while I have no idea of the events I may experience or if I’ll accomplish anything on my “non-list,” I do have confidence that I won’t be facing the year alone. God guarantees me of His presence with this promise: “… the LORD, He is the One who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you; do not fear nor be dismayed.” (Deuteronomy 31:8). My Father loves me. Whether or not I make any resolutions for myself, it will still be a year of promises kept.