“A Mother’s Heart”
She had three children.
People would sometimes ask,
“Do you love them all equally?”
And she would smile — that quiet, knowing smile — and say,
“I love them all… personally.”
Because love, to her, was never about giving the same.
It was about giving what was needed.
It was about knowing each child’s cry —
even the one they never spoke aloud.
When her eldest got sick,
she became light and warmth —
her hands, a prayer that never stopped.
When her second failed and felt small,
she became patience
a steady voice that said,
“It’s all right, you’ll try again.”
And when her youngest felt lost and unseen,
she became presence
a soft embrace, a reminder:
“You are never alone.”
No, she didn’t love them equally.
She loved them individually.
Each in their own way,
each in their own season,
each in the language their heart could understand.
Because a mother’s heart does not divide among her children
it grows with each one.
And somehow,
it always has room for more.