Six-year-old Alan, an orphan, was no stranger to abandonment. Ever since he was left on the steps of a shelter as a baby, he had held onto a longing for his mother. He often gazed at other children with parents by their sides, wondering what it would feel like to be loved and held by a mother. On one particular Sunday, he went to church with his guardian, Nancy. That day, Alan felt a surge of longing that he couldn’t hold back. He walked to the front of the church, kneeling, hands clasped tightly together, his small body shaking as he whispered his pleas.
“Dear Jesus, they say you hear everything,” he cried, his innocent voice echoing through the empty hall. “My guardians told me you would listen if I knocked on your door. So here I am, begging you…please, Jesus, send my mommy to me.”
As he continued to pray, his words grew louder, each filled with the deep-seated yearning that only an abandoned child could understand. His cheeks flushed red, and his eyes grew puffy from crying. Nearby, Nancy approached, urging him to keep his voice down, but Alan seemed lost in his own world, a place where he hoped his voice could reach the heavens. He stared at the crucifix, imploring God to hear him.
“Why aren’t you answering me?” he sobbed. “Please, Jesus…they all have mommies. Why can’t I have mine? I just want my mommy.”
Nancy gently placed a hand on his shoulder, reminding him to
