When Did We Stop Having Fun?

Fun is not just for the young. I realized this a couple days ago while I was typing the word “fun!” for the six-hundredth time in a text to my daughter, my college kid. 

She and her roommate went to Starbucks for a study date.

Fun!

A group of new friends hung out in their dorm room 'til 2 am.

How fun!!

She went mini-golfing over the weekend.

Super fun!

“I keep saying that word,” I texted her. “Your life is very fun, fun, fun.”

“It is fun,” she agreed. And of course my momma heart soared.

But then it occurred to me. My life is boring compared to hers. Since when did I lose my sense of fun, fun, fun?

Yes, we old ladies must shoulder adult responsibilities. We have chicken to bake, taxes to file, tuition bills to cover with our grown-up jobs (so our kids can have their wild and crazy fun).

But does that mean we can’t still play like kids? Or better yet, like adults with disposable income?

If you’ve listened to The Girlfriend’s Guide to an Empty Nest, you might’ve heard my co-host Anne say that her goal as the mom of 20-somethings is to make her kids jealous of her awesome life. She goes on trips, splurges on spa treatments, devours bestselling novels — she got a puppy, for crying out loud. Of course her kids are jealous of a puppy!

And why does it matter? Not because she’s trying to prove something. But because Anne knows it’s important for her kids to see their mom thriving beyond motherhood, modeling what healthy adulting looks like. 

Imagine if all our grown kids saw of us, their mother, was a sad woman moping around the house, pining for the days when everybody gathered around the dinner table after school. Not only would we miss a chance to inspire them with a vision of abundant life by example, but we’d also heap a pile of displaced guilt on their shoulders. Our kids aren’t meant to worry about us. Growing independent is hard enough. Let’s not burden them with our sorrows, too.

Don’t get me wrong. We will still feel the sorrow. Of course we will. Right now there’s a piece of my heart wandering a college campus, and sometimes I track it on Life360. 

It’s normal and healthy to process the grief of launching a child. It’s even normal and healthy to say “I miss you” and “I’m thinking of you.”

But that’s different from expecting your child to fulfill your happiness.

So I want to challenge us all, no matter what age or stage of life you’re in. Where are you finding your happiness?

What choices are you making for yourself today to create a life of fulfillment tomorrow?

I don’t know about you, but there are things I want to do in this life, places I want to go and experiences I want to feel in my body and soul. I want to see an iceberg. I want to tour Irish castles. I want to write another book and learn to play pickleball and go out to dinner with my husband on a random Tuesday just because we can.

What about you? What do you want to see, feel, accomplish beyond what you’ve already done? There is freedom in the quiet house. There’s more joy to come, I can sense it now. My husband and I still have a sophomore at home and we’re relishing our time with her, yet I know firsthand how quickly these next few years will fly. So I’m preparing to flourish. And I hope you are, too. 

“The righteous will flourish like a palm tree, they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon; planted in the house of the Lord, they will flourish in the courts of our God. They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green, proclaiming, ‘The Lord is upright; he is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in him.’” (Psalm 92:12-15)

Let's stop waiting for life to get fun again and start making it fun right now. What's one thing you can do this week to add some “fun, fun, fun!” back to your own life? Go rollerblading. Host a game night. Take yourself to a movie, and get the jumbo tub of popcorn. There are as many opportunities for fun as there are hairs on our heads. We just need to start making a list, and then follow through. Because our kids are watching. Our future selves are counting on us. 

And God isn't done writing our story yet.