I had the perfect storm today of an unexpected kind. After a wonderful weekend of glorious weather and lots of hugs and laughs around the house from our teens, Monday came and it was time to get back to work.

I went to Walmart, my other office, and caught myself meandering down the Valentine’s aisle. Valentine’s is my FAVORITE holiday to celebrate, and although I wasn’t looking to buy anything it just makes me happy to be surrounded by lovey stuff. I turned the corner and found myself in the children’s Valentine’s section. Gazing at the selection of Valentines, I was transported back to another time.

A time when I had one child walking beside me, one sitting in the basket of the cart, and a little one in the child seat. We scoured this aisle forever looking for just the right Valentines that encompassed their interest, but would also be cool enough for their friends. I remember their homemade “mail boxes” that held their friends’ wishes and how they raced home from school to pour them out all over the kitchen table.

They read every card (quickly and only because Mom made them), carefully sorted the candy, then ate all of it in one fail swoop. That time of life was magical. As I choked down the lump in my throat at the memories, Rod Stewart sang over the store speakers, “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

I lost it. In the middle of Walmart. I cried, in public. With the dichotomy of the swell of sweet, lingering memories of the past and the warp speed at which the future races toward us with one chick out of the nest and two quickly on their way, this mama’s heart broke. But, it’s a brokenness out of gratitude for the growing years and hope and optimism for the years yet to come. Gratefulness to love so deeply it hurts. Gratefulness that my college son loves where he is and is embracing independence, which is the goal of parenting, after all. Thankfulness that our teenage daughter is excited about her dreams and goals and isn’t afraid to make them a reality. Gratitude that our youngest teen has so many plans, with the drive and ambition to match.

So why is it that when they start to stand on their own two feet I miss holding them? And as they share more of themselves with the world, I want them all to myself? I’ve told them countless times over the years, “You can grow up, but you’re not allowed to outgrow your Mom.”

No matter how old they get or where they live or what they do with their lives, this mama’s heart is a homemade mailbox that keeps every tender moment tucked inside. Life is changing. They are changing. I am changing. But one thing is for sure, I will never outgrow their love.