Empty(er) nest

Right this moment, 5 of my children are at 2 different birthday parties, 2 are sleeping and one is upstairs doing a chore. Leaving 4 with me. Sort of. One of the four is deeply engaged in a well earned computer turn, conquering trolls, I believe, and a second is longingly looking over his shoulder.

My house feels very quiet and empty.

In an hour, all but 2 will be here, awake, and hungry. But those 2 will not return until tomorrow. And my house, even teeming with 10 young people, will feel "alone and in the winter" until they return.

Sure, we'll eat less food tonight, there will doubtless be less fighting, and the girls will not have to talk as loud to make themselves heard. Not worth it. I miss them. We all do.

And I wonder again, for the thousandth time, if a day will come when I don't feel like a part of my heart has gone walking around somewhere outside my body.

It's not that I don't have anything else to do. There are socks to match, dishes to do, songs to compose and record someday, maybe even a book to write. There are lots of fun and/or meaningful things I could see doing someday. And be content doing them. But the reality, I suspect, is that my favorite times will always be when my children are with me, and that the times when they are all here will happen less and less.

I just really like them. That's why I keep having them. I like them as babies, as toddlers, as little punks, as preteens, as young adults. They keep getting better and better. I love their faces and smiles and jokes and songs and games.

Thanks, God, for letting me be my children's mama. Thank You for today and tomorrow. Thanks for the hugs and kisses, the sick day snuggles, the battles to learn new things and the confidence acquired in the process. Thanks for letting me see bits of fruit. Make me a wise steward of what You trust me with. They are Yours, not mine. And I am also Yours.