Into the big green chair in our bedroom, I would climb each morning, pulling one leg up under me while using my right foot to slowly rock back and forth. First reading from a morning devotional, then writing in a journal with my favorite pen, I'd sip a hot cup of coffee, while I'd slowly wake up to face my day.

After two surgeries in one year, my dad having a traumatic accident while we were visiting and our two oldest sons moving out, I found that chair more and more often throughout the day. I'd rock back and forth while I watched the birds in the big old birch tree out front and saw the neighbors and their pets rushing here and there, all while I kept an eye on the weather.

In the evenings, it became easy to click on the TV across the room. Click, click, clicking the remote, trying to find something. Maybe a new life?

Don't get me wrong, I loved the life I was living as a home educating mom. But our children were growing up and moving on, and the homeschool mom part of my life was becoming obsolete.

When a bedroom became completely empty and we didn't have enough kids at home to fill the bedrooms with even one occupant, I grieved that our household was getting smaller after all those years of bursting at the seams.

But this did not change the facts that the bedroom was empty, it had the potential to be a den, and I hated the wallpaper. In a fit of insanity, I offered my husband a deal. “I'll clear all the wallpaper off the walls, if you will paint.”

Days later, I had no fingernails (oh, they make a tool to scrap the wallpaper and paste off with?) and I had ripped, pulled, complained and scrubbed until every trace of wall paper was gone. Eventually the room was painted a calm “Almond Brittle”, a new light fixture was hung, and my roll top desk, little shelves and file cabinet were moved in to their new places. Favorite framed cards and sayings were ready to be hung on the walls to inspire me.

Plunking myself into that big green chair in our bedroom, I cried. I had always longed for a space of my own but I longed for all my kids home even more. Silly me. Really, I was immensely proud of them and had been their loudest cheerleader as they found their way. Now the two oldest were graduated from college and working at meaningful jobs. No way would I wish either of them back to the top bunk in that bedroom down the hall.

Our bedroom looked empty now that all the office furniture was gone. My husband and I pushed our bed and dressers here and there, back and forth, looking over the whole room and shaking our heads. “No, this just doesn't look right.”

Looking at that green chair, I realized it didn't fit our room anymore. It was big and clunky and faded and old. Like I was feeling.

We banished it to the basement and dragged the compact wooden rocker upstairs, setting it near the window by the good reading light.

Both my husband and I eyed the TV. It was convenient and comfortable to lie in our bed at night click, click, clicking the remote but without a word, we both gave a nod of our heads and exiled the TV to an upstairs' closet.

These changes may seem small but they were a new beginning. I had been reminded that my life couldn't be found in the green chair or the TV or turning the clock back to when we all fit in this nest we call home.

You won't find me staring out the window at the birch tree anymore. And you won't find the green chair in the basement. Son number three snagged it for his bedroom.