When The Children Are Gone

CITIES, LIVES CHANGE

When the kids are gone, things change.

Fayetteville is a city of two seasons: summer and the school year. There’s a slower pace in the summer when most of the students are out of town. It’s hard to imagine in September, but College Avenue actually becomes pleasant to drive after Mother’s Day, and the music on Dickson Street re-orients for an older demographic from mid-May through mid-August. The “adults” come out to play when the “kids” are gone, taking over restaurants dominated by the college crowd during the school year. While I’m confident that stores and restaurants miss the dollars the students bring in, the natives in Fayetteville enjoy the calmer dynamic of summertime.

When the kids are gone, things change. The house purchased for the quantity of bedrooms and baths, to avoid sharing, becomes a challenge to keep from being a museum housing “stuff ” the kids outgrew when they leave home. The peace longed for can seem like a weak replacement for a car filled with happy voices, when those anticipated romantic evenings for “just the two of us” don’t materialize. And sometimes the role of “husband” or “wife” was lost so long ago to the role of “mother” or “father” that, when the last child drives away, you’re left living with a stranger.

When the kids are gone, things change. Mother’s Day and the University of Arkansas’ graduation are intertwined in Northwest Arkansas. And in so many ways, the dynamics of a college town resemble the parenting dynamic.

There are both positive and negative aspects associated with “when the kids are gone.” For most parents, the occasion of their last child leaving home brings a season of new opportunities to re-discover what it is they enjoy doing as a couple or an individual - not just someone whose primary responsibility is caring for a child. Much like Fayetteville in the summer,being “child-less” ushers in a period of slowing down a bit with fewer distractions and more options without compromising because of “the kids.” That nice restaurant is an option. Or going to a movie.

When the kids are gone things change. But for others, there comes a loss of identity when one’s primary role is no longer to advise, admonish, cook for or take care of, but has transitioned into being more of a “listener” than a “teller” and a “supporter” rather than a “director.” Much like the resurgence of “help wanted” signs that have sprung up around Fayetteville - due to the loss of student employees who have gone elsewhere for the summer.

When the kids are gone, things change. Jesus referred to God as his Father, and taught that, as believers in him, we are his brothers and sisters and co-heirs of God our Father. Imagine God’s response to our “going away” from him in the various ways we leave: Some of us intentionally run away from God, like the prodigal son, but God loves us still and welcomes us home if we’ll return. Some of us question our relationship with God our Father, and distance ourselves for a season. Some stay close to God our whole lives, growing deeper in our faith and commitment - much like the young people who grow up in Northwest Arkansas, choose to go to the university and can’t imagine living in a community outside of the Ozark hills.

Imagine how God is aff ected by the changes in the world, and in God’s own self, that we create by our leaving and returning: the pain, the joy, the hope - does God feel that way?

When the kids are gone, things change. And isn’t change what life is all about?

THE REV. LESLIE BELDEN IS A MINISTER OF THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH (U.S.A.).

Religion, Pages 8 on 05/25/2013

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