Passing On

“Hold you, Mommy.” - LuLu

“I’m going to keep you forever and never let go” – J Boy

Sweet smiles and cozy cuddles with my little, infant G baby.

Oh! Can I just bottle this up and keep the wonder of it forever?

My sweet, sweet G Baby. I’ve been so enjoying holding him close, breathing in his baby smell (I never really caught on to the “smell” being so wonderful until he came around). I sit on the couch and hold little “conversations” with him as long as the older kids and my to-do list will allow. The way he lights up when I smile at his face: it’s wonderful. I give him such smooches. I really like to “gobble” him up. My heart just wells up with such delight in his cuteness that I want to take him in. I squeeze him as closely as is comfortable for him and hold. Just hold. My world couldn’t get any sweeter. And my heart aches.

My darling little LuLu. Oh, how she lights up my heart with her giggles and smiles and attempts at logic. She is just shy of two-years-old. Of course she tries me, pushing to the edge many times a day. But, oh my goodness, she is also the most delightful thing around. When she gently pats her baby brother’s tummy and sweetly sings “Twinkle Star” to him when he cries, comforting him by saying, “It’s okay, baby,” when she twirls around, dancing in her girly dress, when she excitedly joins in play with her big brother with giggles and conversations that make me giggle, when she quietly finds a nook and books and sits intently reading to herself, and most of all when she comes over to snuggle and says “I love you, so much” or lifts up her arms and pleads, “Hold you, Mommy”-- Oh, my heart really, nearly bursts with love. Oh, that ache.

My energetic and thoughtful J Boy. He is always on the go, always has a plan. He is leading his sister in play constantly. He has so many questions and is really trying to understand the world. He proudly shows off his accomplishments, whether of building a tower, unlocking doors, defeating dinosaurs, catching a ball, or spelling his name. He is eager to learn the Bible and wants to try to obey. He blurts out a prayer of “repentance” a few times a week: “Jesus, please forgive me for my sins.” He carefully tires to protect his carefree sister – holding her back when she starts to step into the street. He spends chunks of the day trying to teach his little brother to hold a baby toy and encourages him with each tiny progress, “Good job, Brother!” He holds me tight when I tuck him in at night and asks for cuddles when his “tummy hurts” during the day. Oh, I am so full of wonder with him. I love him so. And yet, my heart aches.

I’m gorging on cuteness these days. It’s hitting me like a fire hydrant. I’m home with my children and see them nearly every moment of their lives. I take these moments to soak it in, because everyone says that they grow up so quickly. And that’s the ache.

It’s passing. I know that they will grow up into elementary students one day very soon. And then they will go on growing, into big teenagers and then adults. Their logic will soon be logical. Their cute pudge will stretch out into muscular arms and legs. Their successes and foibles will have much more meaningful consequences. Or, they will not grow up. I look around and see parents whose children have been hurt terribly or whose children have not woken up. I know it could happen. It could be one (or all!) of my precious little ones. Those are two sides of the ache. Either way, I’m not going to have these children as they are. It’s all passing on.

I want so badly to hold on to these moments: the sweet snuggles, the adorable giggles, the simple, proud accomplishments. But I can’t. I’m trying my best, but I know I’ll forget. I know it won’t be the same.

I have to trust my loving Creator and Savior – he knows what he’s doing. Will I get to snuggle babies in heaven, Lord? Maybe. But you want me to know that you are better. Whatever path you choose for my life--grown adults, or childhoods snuffed out--you are better than mother-child love. You have set eternity in my heart. I want to keep them forever. Forever. You are forever. You will keep me forever. I want to love them. But you love me. A child can never understand, truly, a parent’s love. All I can ask is, expand my heart, Lord. Because, surely, it’s going to burst.