The definition of “muse” is the following:  A person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.



As I am two days away from saying goodbye once again to my oldest child, I realize what a bundle of emotions I possess at the thought of his leaving.  So, I write.  I put pen to paper how saturated this sorrow envelopes me.  I try to verbalize how much his departure consumes my every thought, my sunken heart, and my actions.  How can one person affect me so drastically?  How does this hurt so badly the second time around? 

I believe it is because our children are our muse.  The moment we become mothers, the whole view of our world changes.  We see things differently because they spark something new in our hearts that we have never felt before.  They give us purpose, perspective, and, well, inspiration.  They inspire us to become better versions of ourselves.  They stimulate us to try new adventures.  Have you ever grocery shopped with a baby?  That is an adventure in itself!  They motivate us to become creative and artsy, such as fingerpainting, puzzles, and building with blocks.  We do whatever crazy face or voice it takes to make them laugh because hearing their little chuckles make our hearts swell.  They encourage us to get outside our comfort zones and try new places to visit.  So many parks, so little time!  They stir inside of us our childhood selves once again as we view life through their infant eyes.  Christmas becomes a whole new magical holiday once we have kids.  They make life fun again.

Maybe that is another reason why it is so hard to let them go.  Our spark, our inspiration, our rouse, has left the building and we are left without our poet.  The one who helped write our lives for the past 18 years is no longer there to ignite our souls.  We are left uninspired, which often leads us to feel humdrum and passionless.  Our own purpose becomes sterile and lackluster.  It is during this stage of motherhood that we feel in limbo and often ask ourselves, what’s next? 

As my son packs up his things to move to Georgia, my hurt hearts.  However, I remember myself at 19 and the excitement I felt to venture off on my own, without my parents.  Maybe I am a little envious of his youth and all that is ahead of him, as now in my mid-50’s life shifts and my older age creeps in.  At this point, I can give my son all the love in the world.  I can offer him a home he can always return to with open arms.  I can comfort him when he needs reassurance.  But, I can’t give him adventure and I certainly cannot provide his purpose.  Those are things he must seek for himself.  If he stays home with me, he misses out on growth.  He will not become who God has created him to be if I stifle this move.  I must push my selfish pride aside and let my kids out the front door.  I would hate for my children to not experience all that this life has to offer.  What they have to offer.  And, man, do they have so much to offer!  I must share them with the world so that they can make a difference.  This isn’t about me anymore.  This is about them.  I refuse to guilt them into staying close by for my own desires.  I love their sense of wanderlust and fearlessness.  Why would I want to squelch that?  God designed them for big things.  He created each of their gifts and talents, and I can’t wait to see how He uses them for His story and His glory.

And, as they prepare to leave the nest, I realize that God isn’t done with me yet either.  Just because our kids move out does not mean our purpose goes with them.  Our next chapter is beginning and isn’t that exciting?  Our purpose doesn’t have to end just because our role of mother changes.  The muse of life itself, the grace of my Lord, the love of my husband, friends who encourage me, and the beauty of His creation around me gives me plenty of inspiration to keep on keeping on.  Keep loving fiercely, Mama!  We got this.