Every once in awhile I imagine what it will be like to have my youngest children, my babies, all grown up, and have huge pangs of grief. I love my little kids. The feel of their hands in mine. The funny things that come out of their mouths. Their small selves climbing into bed to snuggle with me at 4 AM. The way my lips curve perfectly into the bridge of their noses as I kiss them between the eyes.

I’m not — most emphatically not– looking forward to having everyone grown and gone. But last night, in the middle of a delightfully long and utterly engrossing pinochle session with Eldest, her hubby, and my mom, I realized something. One of the greatest joys of my life right now is spending time with my grown up kids. They’re smart. They’re funny. They’re kind. They’re faith-filled. And they’re surprisingly wise for their ages.

Their grown-up bodies may not linger in my arms as long as when they were small, but their hugs are just as precious. When my house contains all my children all at once, I feel a completeness in my soul that is hard to describe. And they’ve also begun to bring home the most interesting people, one of whom of course is my son-in-law, a delightful person all on his own.

I’m getting the beginnings of a view of what it might be like to have all my children grown, busy with their own lives, and yet still finding time to trail in and out of my house to hug me and sit around my dinner table and thank me for the food and share themselves with John and me.

I so adore the feel of infants. A fuzzy head tucked under my chin.  A sweet sleeping body blissfully limp on my chest.  Eyes that smile up to me as if I am the center of the universe.  Sometimes I still get a pang for that time of life. And yet the future that is coming into view for me right now, a future filled with interesting grown-ups who I can call my own, that future looks incredibly sweet.

I am so thankful.  And so blessed.

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3 John 1:4 I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.