A Melancholy Pollyanna Moment

Generally I am the Pollyanna type who sees the glass as half full, but I'm here to tell you honestly, this house is half empty! As you may have noticed, I look back on my mothering years with great fondness, recognizing the bazillion blessings of raising a big family on the mission field. No, I haven't forgotten all the challenges, and someday my blog may have more of the "rest of the story" behind these otherwise happy years. But right now, I'm hit fully in the face with the reality of a pending empty nest.

More sane mothers of many would be looking forward to the end, longing to become a grandmother. Not me. Becoming a grandma is a bittersweet prospect with the likelihood of never being geographically close to my grandbabies. I will be overjoyed if and when any announcement is made, but it won't be quite as thrilling as for you who actually see your grandchildren on a regular basis.

Instead I find myself feeling melancholy, strangely wishing to fill our big ol' table built for twelve. It's become lonesome sitting there for meals with only five of us. It hardly seems worth the effort to cook for such a small crowd. Shrinking to an almost average size American family does not suit me.

In Florida last weekend we stayed with dear friends who provide childcare for their three small grandchildren. Not to speak against our generous hosts, who after all did save us an enormous hotel bill, but they were very ungracious about sharing their blessings. I would have adopted all three babies on the spot if allowed to. I wasn't allowed. Imagine that! Nonetheless a crazy thought began to form that we certainly have room in our hearts and home for three more children.

Seriously I would do it again in a heart-beat. After two sets of three children, plus Hannah in the middle, I do have a fair amount of experience. Just take any poor recommendations from the kids with a grain of salt. They only think they know everything! I want more kids. So, who has three bright eyed, well-behaved, adorable children (or grandchildren) you would be willing to let me raise? Ages 5, 7, and 8 preferred, but we can discuss exceptions as long as they are potty-trained, and preferably can tie their own shoes and read.

See what a big table we have? Take pity on me, please.