Thirteen Little Glasses

Let the little children come.

"Dear friend, I am so sad.  I just needed to tell you that and thank you for your blog. I had no children and it has made me bitter. I was too sad to go to church yesterday because it hurts too much to see other people with children.  I hate sitting alone with my husband watching other people live happy lives. I wish I could come to tea for real in your home." -Jessa, California

"Dear Karen, I like the posts about your children the most! What a wonderful overflow of grandchildren you have! I am even jealous. I am SO READY for little ones under foot! LOL." -Christiana, Washington D.C.

Unable to conceive, my husband and I refused to have an "empty nest". We wanted the blessings God gives through children. Neighborhoods full of lonely children enjoyed milk and cookies, listened to books and sang songs with us. The government sent us foster children, newborns and toddlers without a home, to keep our arms full and our hearts tender.  Teaching Sunday School kept us challenged, alert to needs and overflowing with joy. The children of single parents, exhausted parents, confused parents, broken parents, filled our lives.

Jesus called the little children to come. They trailed His footsteps, grabbing His hands and pulling Him along. He called to them and they ran to His stories and songs. He spashed with them in the Sea of Galilee and ate picnics with them from huge baskets of leftover bread and fish. Jesus loved the little children in His life and was rewarded with a full quiver of them and an overflowing of joy. The Father offers you the same reward, beloved one.  Open your arms and your heart.  Dream bigger and see what God can do.

Thirteen little glasses drying on the counter.
Tossed aside books and an old quilt on the chair.
Thirteen little hugs as they leave when it's bedtime.
Giggles and shouts of laughter linger on the stairs.
I look around my home and my heart swells with praise.
I traded the world's "empty nest syndrome" for God's wealth of child-filled days.