The Love of My Mother

The day is over now, with all its cares and worries. I stand in front of the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe and slowly lay my head against her chest. I imagine her arms encircling me. Wrapped within her mantle, I can almost hear the slow beating of her heart. Here, I know that I am loved. Without a need for words, I allow her to hold me at the end of this day, her love my place of refuge. “Am I not here, I who am your Mother?” she gently asks, “Could there be anything else you need?”