When the laundry basket isn’t overflowing and the house is quieter, it’s not just an empty nest—it can feel like an empty heart. This transition period can be challenging for many of us, as we grapple with the new silence and space that fills our homes. For years, our identities were intertwined with the hustle and bustle of raising children. Now, with the kids gone, we might find ourselves struggling to navigate this new phase of life.

I can remember crying myself to sleep many nights when my girls were no longer under my roof every night.  I kept thinking this is crazy, I know better, people will think I’ve lost my mind, what am I going to do now.  The house was quiet, the rooms were clean, I had more time on my heads but my heart, it had holes and nothing to fill either, at least that’s how I felt.  The truth is I knew what scripture said about our children and I believed it but knowing it wasn’t working for me.  This was...

I pulled into the parking lot, unable to recall the drive in. An afterthought jolted me: a big yellow bus full of kids with a flashing red stop sign extended. I sped by without acknowledging its existence.

"How had I gotten here?"

That was my thought when I wheeled in on two, landing on four. As I slid into the office...autopilot, I was living on autopilot, never touching down until I crashed into the next thing head-on.

Autopilot, it's the same thing: predictable, expectant, comfortable, and dangerous. I was living in the danger zone with metal under tension, begging to touch and go, heading into another day in the twilight zone.

I sat in my car that day and re-played the event as it flashed RED through my mind. This fast-paced, auto-pilot life had to be disconnected because I had become disengaged mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally.

As I reflected upon the event, I realized that my life on autopilot was a close cousin to complacency, a spiritual slumber where...