Insights from Rebbetzin Faigie Horowitz, nonprofit leader and founder of Jewish Women of Wisdom on rediscovering purpose when your children leave home.
As parents, we spend years preparing our children to become independent. Watching them grow into capable adults and leave home is one of life’s greatest sources of nachat. Yet when that milestone finally arrives, it often brings mixed emotions, along with questions about what comes next.
Rebbetzin Faigie Horowitz, a nonprofit leader, founder of JWOW! (Jewish Women of Wisdom), and Certified Aging-in-Place Specialist, shares insights on embracing the empty nest as the beginning of a meaningful new chapter.
As parents, we spend years preparing our children to become independent and leave the nest. Why can that milestone feel so emotionally challenging when it finally arrives?
We spend many years as parents. We often step into that role when we’re still becoming adults ourselves, and if we have more than one child, we may spend decades raising children. Parenting requires an enormous investment of time, energy, and emotion, and over the years it becomes part of our identity. So when our children leave home, we’re not only adjusting to an empty house; we’re adjusting to being parents in a new way.
In Tehillim, we say, “Kechitzim b’yad gibor, kein bnei haneurim — Like arrows in the hands of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth.” It’s a powerful metaphor. A warrior is defined by their skill with a bow and arrow: knowing which arrow to choose, when to draw the bow, how to aim, and, ultimately, when to let go.
The same is true of parenting. Much of our success lies not only in how we guide our children, but in knowing when to release them with confidence. Letting go is one of the greatest parenting skills we can develop.
At the same time, we must adjust to a new reality. Just as a warrior must redefine their role once the arrows have been launched, parents must redefine themselves once their children have left home. That transition requires a genuine shift in mindset, and for many people, that is what makes the empty-nest years emotionally challenging.
What distinguishes those who thrive after their children leave home from those who struggle with the transition?
I think the answer lies in meaningful relationships. For those who are married, that often means investing in the marriage long before the children leave home. Couples who have developed emotional closeness, shared interests, and common goals, whether spiritual, recreational, or community-oriented, are generally better equipped to navigate this transition together. The empty-nest years are not the end of life; it is the beginning of a new chapter. There is still meaningful work to do, relationships to deepen, and many years to look forward to. A strong marriage provides a foundation for that next stage.
Doctors John and Julie Gottman of the Gottman Institute have found that the happiest couples aren’t simply there for one another during life’s major crises. They consistently respond to the small “bids for connection” that arise throughout the day. One spouse wants to share a funny story, comment on something they read, or simply have a brief conversation. The other chooses to turn toward them rather than remaining absorbed in whatever they’re doing.
I believe this has become more challenging today because we are constantly pulled in different directions. Our phones compete for our attention. We listen to podcasts on our own, attend shiurim on our own, pursue separate interests, and often miss opportunities to connect. Instead, we can choose to learn something together, discuss a book over dinner, or intentionally make time for shared experiences. Couples who consistently turn toward one another in these small moments build what I think of as a jointly owned emotional bank account that sustains them long after the children have left home.
For those who are widowed, divorced, or otherwise on their own, the same principle applies. While the focus may not be on a marital relationship, investing in close friendships, extended family, and a supportive community becomes even more important. Having people to share life with — to give to and receive from — provides connection, encouragement, and perspective during this transition.
The empty-nest years draw us in two directions. One draws us outward, toward greater involvement in our communities, volunteering, leadership, and acts of chesed. The other draws us inward, encouraging us to strengthen ourselves emotionally and spiritually. Both are important. We thrive when we remain connected to other people while continuing to grow ourselves.
For someone who is unattached, building community is especially valuable. That may mean hosting others, joining local groups, participating in communal meals, or finding organizations that bring together people in similar life situations. Giving to others while also receiving friendship and support helps transform the empty-nest years from a time of loss into one of renewed connection.
The empty-nest years often create space to reconnect — with a spouse, with yourself, and with interests that may have been set aside during the busy years of parenting. What opportunities do you see this stage of life offering?
One of the greatest opportunities of the empty-nest years is the chance to rediscover ourselves. Parenting is a sacred responsibility, but it is not our entire identity. Each of us is also called to continue growing spiritually, intellectually, and personally throughout life.
Carl Jung wrote that the second half of life often draws us toward interests and talents that were less central in our younger years. Early in adulthood, our careers are usually shaped by our strongest natural abilities. Later in life, we may find ourselves drawn to interests we never had the time — or perhaps the confidence — to pursue. The empty-nest years give us the opportunity to explore those gifts, whether by taking classes, learning a new skill, deepening our Torah learning, pursuing creative interests, or developing talents that had been waiting quietly in the background.
This stage of life also creates more space for the relationships that matter most. Whether with a spouse, family, or close friends, these deeper connections enrich our lives and provide opportunities both to contribute and to receive support.
Modern psychology also teaches that while the intense creativity and ambition that often characterize our early careers may naturally level off in midlife, something equally valuable emerges. We become mentors and teachers. We have accumulated wisdom, experience, and perspective that others can benefit from. That shift reflects a new stage of growth. We move from building ourselves to building others. We discover that fulfillment comes not only from what we accomplish, but from the lives we influence.
As Jews, we understand that lifelong growth is part of our mission. Raising children and passing on our mesorah are among life’s greatest privileges, but they are not our only purpose. We are meant to continue learning, growing, contributing, and becoming more fully the people Hashem created us to be. In many ways, the empty-nest years provide the time and space to do exactly that.
Judaism places tremendous value on family and child-rearing. How does our tradition help parents understand that their mission does not end when their children become independent, but instead enters a new phase?
We talk about this often at JWOW! (Jewish Women of Wisdom), the organization for Jewish women over 50 that I co-founded with Miriam Liebermann and other partners. Once our children begin building their own careers and raising their own families, our role naturally shifts. We never stop being people of influence, but it is no longer our direct achrayus to teach them middos, fiscal responsibility, or Torah values in the same way we did when they were growing up.
Instead, our influence becomes more indirect — and, in many ways, more powerful. We model the values we hope to pass on. We create homes and conversations where our children and grandchildren can see, hear, and absorb what matters to us. We give priority to Torah learning, kindness, family traditions, and the values we want to preserve — not by preaching, but by living them.
There are many simple, meaningful ways to do this. We might give them Israel Bonds instead of only Chanukah gelt, encouraging our grandchildren to think about investing in the Jewish future. When giving money, we can suggest that some be saved, some spent, and some given to tzedakah. Small moments like these quietly communicate our values.
As grandparents, we also become the keepers of our family’s story. It is our privilege to share the experiences of previous generations; the sacrifices they made to remain Jewish, the hardships they endured, and the lives they rebuilt. Research by Dr. Marshall Duke and Dr. Robyn Fivush of Emory University suggests that children who know their family stories — particularly stories that include both successes and failures — develop greater confidence, stronger social skills, and increased resilience. Knowing where we come from helps us better understand who we are.
Our tradition beautifully captures this evolving role. Tehillim describes the G-d-fearing person with the image, “Banecha kishtilei zeisim saviv l’shulchanecha —Your children will be like olive shoots around your table.” It’s a beautiful image. Your children are gathered around you, but they are also growing into olive trees of their own, putting down roots and establishing families while remaining connected to where they came from.
That is the vision Torah offers us. As we become the senior generation, our role is no longer to direct every aspect of our children’s lives, but to remain a source of love, wisdom, connection, and quiet influence. The relationship changes, but it does not diminish. If anything, it becomes one of life’s greatest sources of nachas.
A former nonprofit management professional, marketing strategist, political advocate, and freelance writer, Rebbetzin Faigie Horowitz of Congregation Agudas Achim of Lawrence has co-founded a shelter for homeless girls, a women’s mikvah, and, most recently, JWOW! (Jewish Women of Wisdom), a community for women in midlife. She holds a master’s degree in management and is a Certified Aging-in-Place Specialist.