Hello Readers!
Thanks for being here! As you read today, I hope you sense my desire to tend this space well, and in that tending you feel welcomed and seen.
I follow a fairly eclectic group of writers, thinkers, and influencers online, but I’ve noticed that there is a particular type of woman I tend to gravitate towards. On paper they may seem quite different, but when I considered what draws me to each of them, I realized that they all possess three Cs: capability, competence, and confidence. They are incredibly capable women who take action and get stuff done.
These are the qualities I love in my husband too, but I’ve found that having an uber-capable partner can be an easy crutch for someone like myself who is doing-repressed. Sometimes, especially now that our children are grown and I’m no longer a primary caregiver and decision-maker for little people, I find myself reverting to younger parts within myself that want to be cared for instead of taking charge and taking care of things.
This has been an unexpected complication of the empty nest life which is often touted as a time when parents should feel most free. Without children to actively care for, I feel a little lost in the competence and capability department. Something of my essence has been lost in the transition, and I’m trying to find my way back to her again. It’s a very peculiar thing to no longer be needed in the only capacity I’ve ever experienced being needed—as a mother raising children. I imagine it’s how an employee feels after losing a job they held for decades, or a caregiver of someone with a long-term illness feels when that person no longer needs care.
I didn’t expect to still feel so adrift two years after our youngest left home. While my work has fulfilling moments, it hasn’t been enough to help me feel truly anchored in my life again. I’ve found myself looking for anchors everywhere—maybe I need a new career path? A new hobby? A volunteer position? A new gardening project? A church community that needs me? A house full of grandchildren? (I’m assured this not happening anytime soon!)
For a time, I thought if I watched enough reels or read enough essays or listened to enough podcasts by these confident, competent women, they’d help me crack the code on what to do when the part of life that made me feel most purposeful was now over. But, that was simply information gathering—my specialty—it wasn’t taking action.
I realized I needed to start with an action word instead of hoping to stumble on the perfect approach somewhere outside of myself. Many positive changes in my life have been anchored in a word or phrase, and this time the word needed to be action oriented.
The word that came to me was “Tend”.
Instead of finding a purpose in one of the many avenues I’ve considered, I can simply turn to the life that is here in front of me and tend to what I’ve been given. Instead of a new job, I can be more intentional about tending to the students sitting beside me. Instead of creating a new raised-bed garden, I can tend to the peonies and roses that already grow in my garden. Instead of a new hobby, I can tend to my kitchen (and Michael’s needs) and make dinner or bake a treat more often.
This isn’t to say that new and important things won’t come my way—I hope they do! But, there’s so much right in front of me that needs tending. I don’t have to search elsewhere for an anchor. I can start to tend to the good right where my feet are.
This might seem elementary to those of you who are action-takers from the start, or who are overworked and want less to tend to, but I think there are a lot of us in transitional stages of all kinds who need something to hold onto until we’re ready for the next thing. I know there’s more purposeful work ahead for me, and this is how I’m moving towards it without getting stuck in thought loops or inaction. I’m tending to what’s in front of me today.
A friend sent me a birthday card in March that said “Things bloom wherever you are.” This is the joy of tending—we make things bloom wherever we plant our feet. I hope this is a blooming season for me and for you too.
A Reflective Practice
Write a letter from your future self about where she sees your current self blooming. Where does future you see fruit in all the things you’ve tended to in your current season of life?
Does this letter encourage you in what you’re already doing?
Does it help you identify an area you want to tend more?
Tend... I love this. As chapters close, I am trying not to rush to flip the page to the next thing. (Not that I know what the next thing is.) I want to breathe, to trust, but liminal spaces are tricky. (Mind the gaps!) I heard just yesterday that adjusting to an empty nest takes five years! (Therapist Dan Allender mentioned this on Curtis Chan's Good Faith podcast.) Thank you, Kimberly, for giving voice to what I'm sensing... to go slow and tend what's right in front of me.
As a fellow new empty nester and one who the word TEND is near and dear, I could not agree more! I use TEND as my acronym to dig into the Bible because it reminds me of how God tends to our souls as the Master Gardener. So your application really resonated, Kimberly. Thank you so much for sharing.