Like every other Sunday morning， my best friend， Patty， dropped my godchildren， Jeremiah and Rachel， off at my apartment around 6：30 a.m. before she went on her way to work.

And， just like every other Sunday morning， we all went back to sleep for a couple of hours. When everyone awoke I made a quick breakfast and then the four of us， my husband， Larry， the kids and myself， hurried and got ourselves out the door for church， just like every other Sunday morning.

It wasnt until we walked through the church doors and I saw the girl standing there passing out flowers that I remembered this wasnt like every other Sunday morning， it was Mothers Day.

Before I could stop him， Jeremiah， always the curious child， went up to the girl and tugged on her arm. “Linda， what are you doing？” He asked.

Linda smiled at him and said brightly “Im giving a flower to every mother in church today because its Mothers day.”

Jeremiahs eyes grew bright. “My mom had to work today. Can I have a flower to take home to give her？”

I was so proud of him at that moment. Jeremiah was often hyper， and it was sometimes hard for him to remember to speak slowly and ask for things politely when he was excited. But he had been the perfect little gentleman when he asked for that flower.

“Of course.” Linda answered， and lowered the box she was holding so that Jeremiah could pick out a flower for Patty.

Jeremiah turned towards me， proudly holding a pink carnation in his hand. He smiled at me. His dark eyes danced with pride and love and excitement. I smiled at him and motioned for him to come with me so we could go take our seats in church， but instead， he turned back towards Linda.“Can I please have a flower for Aunt Kimmie too？”

I felt my breath catch somewhere in my chest. That was the last thing I had expected Jeremiah to do. It was one of the sweetest and most sincere things I had ever heard him say. But neither of us was ready for what happened next.

“Oh， no， Jeremiah. She cant have a flower. She isnt a mom.” Linda replied.

I watched as all the joy Jeremiah had been feeling left his face. Gone was his bright smile. Those sparkling eyes of his turned troubled. There was now a confused， pain-filled little boy standing where， just seconds ago， a very happy child had stood.

My heart broke in about a million pieces， but not for myself， for Jeremiah. His heart was broken， and my heart ached for him.

But my heart was also full because， in that incredibly insensitive moment， I found out how much Jeremiah loved me and how much I meant to him.

I may not have been his mom， but it was my apartment he came to after school several days a week while Patty worked. I was the one that fixed his meals and gave him his favorite Popsicles. I always read him stories and sang songs to him. I calmed his fears and chased away the monsters when he had a bad dream， and， I was the keeper of the band-aids when he was hurt. I was the one that was there when Patty couldnt be. In Jeremiahs eyes， I might not have been his mom， but I was just as important as his own mother was. And， he always affectionately called me， “Aunt Kimmie”， even though I wasnt.

I shot Linda a look as I took Jeremiah by the hand and urged him to come with me. She started to say something， but at that point I didnt trust myself to respond kindly to her， so I turned my back and walked away. Perhaps it wasnt the Christian thing to do， but walking away beat the few choice un-Christian words I wanted to say to her instead.

The rest of that morning Jeremiah was quiet and withdrawn. When we got back home from church I got out my prettiest vase so he could keep that pink carnation in it and give it to Patty when she came for him. But his enthusiasm had been crushed; the joy he had felt had been robbed from him. And I didnt know how to fix it for him.

That afternoon after nap time， Jeremiah and Rachel went outside to play in the courtyard of our apartment building. I was in the kitchen making dinner for everyone when I heard the front door open. Jeremiah slowly came to the doorway of the kitchen， his hands behind his back.

“Aunt Kimmie，” he said softly， “You deserve something for Mothers day.” I knelt down in front of him as he pulled out a handful of fresh picked dandelions and gave them to me. I felt tears on my cheeks as I gathered him in my arms and hugged him tightly.“I love you， Aunt Kimmie.”

“I love you， too， Jeremiah.” And， I couldnt have loved him more if he had been my own son.

清晨六點半左右，和往常的星期天一样，我最好的朋友帕蒂在她去上班之前，将我的两个教子女杰里迈亚和瑞秋扔在了我的公寓。

和以往任何一个星期天一样，我们又都回到床上多睡了几个小时的回笼觉。赶在他们起床前，我迅速地做好了早餐。吃完早餐后，我和丈夫拉里还有孩子们就急急忙忙地出门去教堂做礼拜，就和以往任何一个星期天一样。

直到我们走过教堂门口，我看见有个女孩站在那儿给每个路过的人分发花朵，我才记起来，今天并不同于以往任何一个星期天。因为今天是母亲节。

杰里迈亚是个好奇心很强的孩子，我还没来得及阻止他，他就径直走向那个女孩，拉了拉她的手臂，问：“琳达，你在这儿干嘛呢？”

琳达冲着他微笑，明朗地说：“我在这给每一个来教堂做礼拜的妈妈送花，因为今天是母亲节。”

杰里迈亚两眼放光。“我妈妈今天还得上班没能来。可以给我一朵花带回家去送給她吗？”

那一刻，我为他感到很自豪。杰里迈亚经常都处于亢奋状态，对于他来说，在情绪激动的情况下还能记得慢条斯理地说话、彬彬有礼地向别人要东西，着实不易。但就在刚刚他问女孩要那朵花儿时，他表现得就像一个完美的小绅士。

“当然。”琳达答道，然后她把手里的盒子放低，让杰里迈亚为他妈妈帕蒂挑选一朵花。

杰里迈亚转向我的时候，手里拿着一支粉色康乃馨，洋洋得意的样子。他朝我微笑。乌黑的眼睛里洋溢着骄傲、爱意和兴奋。……