Empty Nests and Newlywedded Wonders

Jana and I were married a little less than two years before our son was born.  We had a wonderful time getting to know each other, spoiling ourselves in spontaneity: like nudging each other at 11:00 at night and saying, "Let's go to Denny's and get some pie."

When our son arrived, yes, there were a lot of new things – new experiences, new routines, new responsibilities – but I don't really remember the immediate loss of spontaneity.  There were just so many newnesses going on that the spontaneity just seemed to fade ... not only in existence, but in importance as well.  Maybe it was just part of my expectation of what it meant to be a "father".  Or maybe it wasn't the spontaneity but my memory that has faded.

But to Jana it seemed to be more immediate and evident.  When Aaron was still a toddler I remember Jana saying, "I can hardly wait until our children are grown and we can be alone together again."

In retrospect it must have been this view, a longing for that too-brief Eden of innocence and wonder in our lives, that has compelled Jana to always be aware of the health of our relationship.  Over the years she has often commented, "We'd better remember how to have fun together because when the kids are gone I want to be able to like you."

I love having my children around, and specifically at home.  When Jana would say "I can hardly wait until they are grown," I would think, "Well, I can wait!  I don't want to rush it."

Our "baby" will be headed for college in three weeks.  It seems once our children leave, they never really come home again.  They may come for periods of time  – like between semesters or for a time after missions – but never really to stay.  And that's as it should be.  And that's what we've raised them to do.  And that's the proper sequence of their lives.  But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

Even so, in Jana's mantra, "I can hardly wait", if I listen beyond my own reluctance I hear the unmistakable message that she likes me; she seems to like being around me (most of the time).  Her constant pulse-taking in our relationship is to assure the health of our friendship.

Two evenings ago Jana was on the phone with her sister and brother-in-law.  In the course of their conversation Richard asked, "Are you ready for the 'empty nest'?  Do you think you'll be able to stand each other?'"

To which Jana replied, "Oh, we have no problem there."

Many of the loving things I have noted in my posts are the simple, common things that can so easily go unnoticed.  But this loving thing is a LOVING THING!  It is the result of 31 years of on-purpose nurturing of precious relations; of countless recoveries after meaningless divides; of numerous forgivenesses for thoughtless acts; of determined decisions for celestial bonds.

"We have no problem there" is really a declaration of an intermediate victory in our relationship.  It is an ensign of our shared desire to continue enjoying each others' company as our love, companionship and friendship deepens and compounds.  "We have no problem there" is truly a loving thing.

So, with measured anticipation, I look forward to the "empty nest", relying on Jana's enthusiasm to soothe me into relaxing my grip on the season I'm leaving behind.  And let the spontaneity of newlywedded wonder return, only now with an audience of heirs with which to share our adventures.
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