The best gift I've received was from two young boys. Where I resided at the time, I did not have a lot of money or a huge home, and I was a single mom with three young children of my own.

These were boys a tiny bit older than my children, but they always visited my yard, despite the fact that they were dirty-faced (rough and tumble), and I had two girls and only one small boy. These boys were more than happy to avoid their own homes, for reasons I shall not describe.

The men in my church donated a huge, homemade picnic table to me, because I could not resist feeding children who were thirsty, hungry, and lonely, and I spent a lot of time baking healthy muffins. These two boys thrived in our yard, and they were more than happy to pray with us before they would partake of a meal with my family.

We would share food, laughter, books, games, and then, for a time, they disappeared. I often wondered what had happened in their lives, and hoped for the best. During one of the darkest times in my personal life, I wanted no outsiders to visit me, and wondered if God, too, had forgotten me (I was in that much pain). On Mother's Day, after my children arrived home from school, there was a knock on the door.

I tentatively went to answer it, and there stood two clean-faced, tall, smiling boys holding two of the most colorful floral bouquets I had ever seen. They said to me, "Do you remember us? You used to feed us blueberry muffins! They were so good. We wanted to come back and thank you and say Happy Mother's Day 'cause you were like a mom to us!" I started crying, and thanked them profusely, and was otherwise speechless.

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