By now I’m used to goodbyes. When children grow into adults and move away, parents are waving them off continually. Today was a waving day as Hans, Katy, Nicholas, Evelyn and Thomas boarded an American Airlines jet for England. They were anxious to get home, and the rest of us are ready to get back to work and study.

With three car seats, a double stroller, five massive bags, unnumbered carry-ons and eight people, we needed two vehicles to get to the airport. Part of that was three drivers, two to circle while the third assisted Hans and Katy through check-in. The babies slept through the two hour ride, waking as if cued by an alarm as we pulled up to the airport curb.

Watching them roll/push/haul toward the big double doors, two babies in the stroller and one strapped to Hans’ back, I marveled at their efficiency in getting to this point without a glitch. Katy was so well organized this morning we had time for a cup of tea as we waited for the appointed moment to step out the door.

I’m thankful to God for these children and grandchildren, each one custom-designed by the Creator to accomplish the divine purposes for which they were born. I’m the privileged bystander, looking on and lending a hand along the way. Spending time with them is of great delight in the autumn of my life.

But there’s one chronic stress in our situation. All of my grandchildren live far from me. That means it’s double-or-nothing when we’re together. Either they have to move in with me or I with them, which can put a strain on young and old alike.

One friend told me that after she stayed in her daughter’s home with her two grands, back home she needed a week’s recuperation for each week spent with them. Last time she visited for three weeks so it was another three before she felt ready to put anything on her at-home calendar. I chuckled when she said that, but I didn’t have grandchildren then.

Now I do, and I understand.

As we stepped back in the door at home tonight, the first thing I did was pause at the baby toy bin sitting ready for a lift back to the basement. With a twang of sadness I wondered when my grandbabies would next handle those toys. Maybe so much time will pass before they return, they’ll have grown beyond them and the answer is “never”.

The second thing I did was sit down to think about that, and before I knew it, my head was hanging, and I was asleep.

Let’s see. The kids were here for five weeks. That means I’ll be back to normal by the end of February…. except that I’ll be staying with my Florida grandchildren to celebrate Micah’s first birthday well before then.

Maybe instead of counting weeks, I should just acquiesce to Mom’s point of view: “Spend as much time as you can with children; it’ll add decades to your life.”

 “The love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear him. His salvation extends to the children’s children.” (Psalm 103:17)