Naked Coffee, and Other Perks of the Not-So-Empty Nest

It was a few weeks ago when my eyes were first opened to some of the perks of the kid-free house. My husband is an absolute gem among men and daily reminds me that a peaceful, contented approach to life is really the only way to go. His temperance of ease is the jam to my nose in the mad tea party of life and I cherish him.  He has walked with me through some pretty harry stuff in the few short years we’ve had together, and he’s a quick study. He has become acutely aware of the cues I give when a meltdown is imminent and can run interference with the nimble agility of a field mouse. About a week before my daughter was due at college, I laid in bed after the 3^rd snooze alarm, waiting for my turn in the bathroom.  When the door swung open, I watched, wide-eyed as he emerged from his stinky lair, rubbing his perfectly rotund belly, strutting his naked-self, catwalk style, along the side of our bed.

He stopped mid-stride to turn his head over his shoulder seductively, “Soon baby… Soon we can walk around like this whenever we want.”

Once the crippling spasms of laughter subsided, I kissed my husband, who had mercifully dressed himself, and sent him off to work.  As much as I adore this man, I admit that the cloud of worry about sending my daughter to college had fogged my ability to see some of the possibilities that lay ahead.  I had been spending a lot of energy tuning in to this process of “letting go”, carefully analyzing my reactions, as well as keeping hawk-like watch over every aspect of my daughter’s preparations. I worried about her packing too much, and too little, and making sure she had cleaned all the dirty dishes out from under her bed, and the locker-room out of her car. I scrutinized her moods, watching for signs of anxiety, and carefully calculated my responses, making sure I was in-tune to what she needed, and above all, guiding her with nearly invisible influence to ensure as smooth a transition as possible. It was a big job and I was going to revel in my last moments as that kind of mom. My husband, who’s own mother had been considerably less co-dependent in her approach, watched me juggling my invisible (and mostly non-existent) influence, motionlessly shaking his head.  He knew very well that after I had “busied” myself, with all this hub-bub about physically and emotionally preparing for this ginormous transition, that it would all come down to huddling with me in bed, feeling my tears run down his chest, and reminding me it would all be ok.  Oh how right he was.

So once we finally dropped her off and after a few nights of soggy huddles, I could feel the edge wearing off and the fog beginning to lift. One morning, while shuffling the dogs outside, Howie-the-Havanese stopped at her now-empty bedroom door and scratched. He was wondering why she hadn’t come out of there for so many days. I opened the door and he trotted in, jumped up on her bed, nose to the blankets, searching for the missing girl. He did this for a few heartbreaking moments, before flopping his body into a sad little heap on her pillow. He laid there, nose to tail, eyes lifted up in the most pathetic expression of loneliness. UGH. I stood in the doorway, ready to completely come apart, when the image of my darling husband sauntering out of the bathroom flooded into my mind. I determined to give his recommendation a try.  I went out to the kitchen and brewed up some of my favorite French-press, poured us each a frothy cup, arranged a fruit plate, a couple of bowls of granola….and here’s where it gets interesting….shed my P.J.’s, right there in the kitchen and carried the tray of goods to my still-in-bed hubby. 

His eyebrows raised as I entered, “Hi, Sweetheart”. 

As there were no plans for the rest of the weekend, with the curtains tightly drawn, I declared a moratorium on clothing.  We decided that it must be good for the skin to just breathe in its own air once in a while. This was self-care at its best and I reveled in it.  Naked Coffee progressed into Birthday-Suit BLT’s for lunch (with a splatter guard carefully placed while the bacon fried), then Nude Netflix, Nothing-On Naps, and Buff Burritos for supper. As the day drew to a close, and we’d finished all the Disrobed Dishes, we lingered over our State-of-Nature Sorbet, and Exposed Earl Grey. What a turn the day had taken! There’s always, always something one can do to brighten the mood.

When I shared my new-found coping mechanism with my daughter her reply was fantastic, “You know what Mom, I should be totally grossed out by that story….but good for you man. Choose Joy. “

Since then we’ve been forced to don clothes many times. But fortunately, there are many other perks.  For example, its much less expensive to purchase king crab-legs for TWO rather than three or four, (and they pair nicely with mac and cheese by the way). And while you may feel bad about sending your kids to bed with a belly-full of popcorn and Milk-Duds for dinner, or to school after a bowl of monkey-bread for breakfast, when it’s just you and your partner…somehow that guilt turns into a euphoric, satisfying enjoyment. How about eating out? Gone are the years of pointing around the table and sternly reminding your kids that “water is fine”.  The glass of wine with my dinner is still less than the 2 extra entrees.  Oh, and you guys, the LAUNDRY…. enough said?  And that funky smell from their rooms? You won’t believe how nice your car is without abandoned french-fries and sucker-sticks under the seats.  As much as I know you have learned to love all these little signs-of-kid-life in your home, I propose you can also learn to love the absence of them when your kids leave home. The temptation exists to cry when there is no pee to clean off the bathroom floor. But the opportunity to celebrate this exists at the same time…and lets face this…it makes a lot more sense.

On the flip side of things lost…we can look forward to the things gained. Our general intelligence, for example; it is utterly amazing how much more smart I have become to my children now that they navigate independently. I am their personal Wikipedia on a large variety of topics, and I admit I’m enjoying it. When my oldest called me the first year he and his wife filed taxes together, baffled at where all their money had gone… I’ll admit I smiled a little inside. I love getting the call from the grocery store, asking me what that cheese is called. I love when my kids call me and ask me to pray with them. What precious gifts they are, and continue to be their entire lives, no matter where they are in the world.

I don’t know about you, but I thought I had become a prayer warrior the day they were born. It wasn’t until the day they were out on their own that I understood how much more rich and full my faith had to become to survive the fears associated with this. I thank God for ministering to me about how these precious beings are much-less mine than they are His. My Gramma once told me that a mother’s reasons to worry don’t decrease once they leave home. In fact, she said, the troubles only get bigger. I have yet to live a more terrible ache than watching my children suffer some of the most grievous pain life has to offer.  They lost their Dad at ages 21 and 13.  I have helplessly watched as my son and his wife cradled their lifeless newborn, willing her to take a breath. The troubles have indeed been big, but praise the God of the universe, HE IS BIGGER. This light and momentary affliction is doing a great work and I will trust in Him.

“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen, but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” – 2 Corinthians 4:17-18

This kind of trust is something I’m learning is the most important key to living a peaceful life. My kids’ lives’ are not my own. MY life is not my own. God is sovereign, and worthy of my trust and my praise. God’s work in this area of my life is the biggest “perk” I can describe. Trusting Him gets a whole lot easier when you realize He’s a whole lot better at caring for them than you. Even when it hurts, and even when we don’t understand.

So here we are. We miss our kids. But we also thank God that they are out in the world like we always hoped they would be. Whether they’re in college, or working, or flopping around like a fish-out-of-water, we wouldn’t change the chance we got to parent them for anything.  Above all we can thank God for the opportunity to learn to trust Him more.  There is no greater skill I know to navigate the hardest places in life. The opposite of fear and pain is Trust. The battle against our flesh in this endeavor is one we will never fully conquer this side of Heaven, but Praise God He is here to help at every angle.

So now HOW in the world does this tie in with my Naked-Coffee story?  IDK. (insert the shoulder shrug emoji)  Here’s my take: while Naked-Coffee may not be everyone’s cup of….tea?… It’s a good example of rolling with the punches, choosing to take life a little less seriously when we can, and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. God knows the struggles of our hearts we don’t show to anyone else. He knows how fiercely we cling to those kids and He knows the places we need to learn to trust Him more.  He is the author of their outcome and we can and should let go of those fig-leaves we cling to. We are always “naked” to Him.  When everything is stripped away, and we are cleansed by the blood, there is no adornment that could ever make us any better than that. We can let go of the need to “control”. We can “stop holding God accountable to a version of good that He never promised us”, (Lysa TerKeurst).  We can trust that our future, no matter what it looks like, is never beyond the Will of the Most High God, and who friends….WHO is more qualified? The transition to this place is not easy for most of us, but oh the benefits available to the Christian who pursues the death of that “little-g god” inside that wants its own way.  My way is all smoke and mirrors; concealer and baggy tunics. God knows who I really am, and He knows better what I really need at every single turn. No matter how my insides may scream to understand what that looks like sometimes… when I let go… when I present myself to Him, “naked”, tear-stained and grimy… just as I am… He will meet me there every time with all the Mercy and Grace and Love there is. By His spirit, I will cling to His truth, I will look to what is unseen, and thank Him for it.