04/13/2026
We have had the sweetest little moment in our backyard these past few weeks. A tiny bunny nest. If you were not looking for it, you might have missed it, but once we saw it, we could not stop checking on it. And oh, how we checked on it. Moose made it his job to guard those babies every single day. We watched them from the very beginning, those tiny little newborns, and then, day by day, we saw them grow stronger, braver, and a little more curious each time. It became part of our routine to check the nest, smile, pray they were okay, and talk about how big they were getting.
During a recent storm, I went out to check on them. I made sure they were covered, warm, and all snuggled in tight, because that is what you do when something so small feels so big. And then something changed. We saw Mama bunny at the nest for the very first time, and then hours later, the nest was empty. They are out there now, happy, little independent bunnies.
I stood there looking at that empty spot and felt it a little deeper than I expected. So did Moose!
I could not help but think about my friends in this season of graduations, especially the ones watching their last child walk out the door. One dear friend shared how heavy it felt, watching the fifth and final child leave the nest, feeling the weight of all that quiet and change. That word “empty” can feel very real in moments like that.
Because this is so much like life. We are given these moments, these people, these situations, these callings, and we get to love them, care for them, and pour into them. Whether it is raising children, walking with someone through a hard season, or pouring your heart into a calling and wondering if anything is really happening yet, we give what we have with our whole hearts.
But we were never meant to keep everything tucked safely in the nest. There comes a time when what we have nurtured, what we have prayed over, and what we have protected steps out on its own. That is not something to be sad about. That is the whole point.
It’s not emptiness… it’s readiness.
And as they step forward, something else begins to move too. The calling continues. The seeds you have planted begin to grow in ways you may not even see yet. And quietly, gently, the next season you have been prepared for begins to arrive.
So to the mamas watching that last one walk out the door, and to the one who has been faithfully pouring into a calling, waiting and growing in the unseen, you are not behind, and you are not forgotten. Something beautiful is unfolding.
You did not just care for it; you prepared it, and now it is ready.
What feels like an ending is really the moment everything you poured into begins to bloom.
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Lisa Bain Ministries
