To the Parents Driving Home with an Empty Seat

It’s the season when many parents are making the long journey home, and doing so alone. On the journey there, they had a child in the seat behind them, a child who was making his or her way to college for the first time. But now, as they make the journey back, the seat behind them is empty. The car is a little less lively now, the tone a little more somber.

I remember the first time Aileen and I did that drive. We had taken Nick to Boyce College in Louisville, Kentucky, gotten him settled, then said our farewells. We had driven only two or three of the 568 miles between there and here when Aileen began to cry. Actually, she did not merely begin to cry, but to heave great, big, heartbroken sobs. That was the first time I had ever heard her cry so deeply, so fully, and with such an aching soul.

We had done a good thing, of course, and we knew that. We had done the right thing by helping Nick achieve one of the key markers of maturity. He was at the beginning of gaining his independence and training for his desired career. We were proud of him and thankful for the opportunity that was now his. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

I have often wondered why it was so painful, and I eventually came to this conclusion: We knew this marked the beginning of the end of our family as we had always known it.¹ It was not like Nick was leaving the family or seceding from it, but we knew that from this point forward, things would never be the same. He would come home after this, but this would no longer be his home in the same way. He would return, but return as a changed man. Other people would now be forming him, and other people would enjoy his company more than we would. There would be no going back after this. Our family would be different and soon enough, his sisters would follow. It was almost like facing the reality of death, though it wasn’t a life that was ending, but a phase of family life—a phase we had very much enjoyed and were loath to end.

But we knew this was right and good. We firmly believed that we had taken Nick just about as far as we could and that it would be best for him to continue growing in a different context. He needed to step away from the safety nets of home, he needed to become his own man, he needed to begin to make his own way through this world. We knew that, and he knew that, though in the moment such knowledge did little to assuage our grief.

Thankfully, the grief did not last for long, at least at a high level of intensity. Soon enough we were hearing the names of new friends and hearing that he had been accepted into the membership of a new church. Soon enough we were hearing of all he was learning, of all the professors who were investing in him, and of all the ways he was growing in wisdom, knowledge, and ability. Soon enough all of our hopes for him were being realized as he began to bloom in that place where he had been replanted. We acknowledged with gratitude that his decision had been wise and that this new place was exactly where the Lord could best work in him and through him.

As the years went by and we went through that same routine with both of his sisters, the grief was a little bit tempered because our faith was a little bit stronger. The Lord had proven that he would continue to build upon the foundation we had laid in their early years. He had proven that he would not leave them or forsake them. He had proven that they were his children before they were ours and that his love for them would always far surpass our own.

So, my friend, as you glance in the rearview mirror and see emptiness where just a few days ago you saw a familiar face, as you sit in the silence, and as you miss that one who owns so large a piece of your heart, trust that the pain will lessen in the days to come. And as you trust, entrust that sweet child to the care of the Lord. As the miles roll by, spend a few of them thanking the Lord for his gifts, thanking the Lord for his mercies and expressing your confidence that his plans for your child are only ever good.