One particular day, Lyna knelt on the earthen floor, arranging the bundles of herbs she had just gathered. The quiet afternoon was punctuated only by the soft rustle of her work and the occasional birdsong drifting in through the open window.
Amukelo, still a boy of no more than seven, watched his mother from the doorway for a moment, his bright red eyes filled with curiosity. His white hair caught the sunlight, almost glowing in its brilliance. Finally, he stepped forward, hesitant but driven by the question that had been bubbling inside him for a long time. "Mom," he began.
Lyna looked upet. "Yes, Amu?" she replied, pausing her work and sitting back on her heels.
"Why do I look so different from Mikal and Jarek?" His small fingers brushed through his white hair, his red eyes blinking with uncertainty. "Why do I have red eyes and white hair, but they don't?"
Lyna's heart swelled at the innocence of his question. She placed the bundle of herbs aside and motioned for him to come closer. Amukelo obliged, stepping carefully until he was close enough for her to pull him gently into her lap. She crouched down to his level, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.
"Because, Amu," she began, her voice soft and melodic, "you are a gift from God. That's why you look the way you do."
Amukelo's eyes widened in wonder. "A gift from God?" he echoed, tilting his head to the side.
"Yes," she said, her smile deepening. "You are special in your own way, just like Mikal and Jarek are special in theirs. But you, my dear, were made with a purpose. You have a great future ahead of you."
The boy's face lit up with excitement. "Does that mean I'll have adventures like the hero in your stories?" he asked eagerly, his voice rising in pitch.
Lyna chuckled softly, her hand reaching up to ruffle his hair. "Yes, Amu," she replied, her tone playful yet sincere. "I believe you will."
"Yay!" Amukelo cheered, hopping slightly in her lap. His joy was infectious, and Lyna couldn't help but laugh. But then her expression softened, becoming more serious. She held his gaze firmly, her hands steadying him.
"But, Amu," she continued, her voice steady, "being special doesn't mean you're more important than anyone else. Everyone is a gift from God. Every single person, whether a king, a hero, or someone like us—a simple family living in this village—matters just as much to Him."
Amukelo frowned slightly, tilting his head in thought. "Even the bad people? Like the ones who tried to destroy the hero's world?"
Lyna smiled at the innocence of his question. She gently cupped his cheek, her touch soft and reassuring. "Even the bad people, Amu," she said. "God loves all of us so much that even when we make mistakes—sometimes very big mistakes—He still wants to save us. He never stops trying."
The boy's brows furrowed in confusion. "But… why? If they're bad, why doesn't He just stop loving them?"
"Because, my dear," she said, brushing a stray strand of his hair behind his ear, "this world isn't our true home. God's love isn't about what we do here—it's about who we are and where we're meant to be."
Amukelo's eyes widened. "Then where is our home?"
A soft laugh escaped Lyna's lips as she glanced toward the window, the sunlight painting her face with a golden glow. "Our true home, Amu, is with God, in the heavens. It's a place where we'll go when our time here is over."
Amukelo blinked, trying to process the weight of her words. "How do we know it's there? What if it's not?"
Her expression softened even more, and she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "That's what faith is, my son. We don't know for sure. But we believe, even when we can't see. That's how the doors to our true home open for us—when we trust in what we cannot see."
The boy wrinkled his nose in confusion, his youthful innocence untainted by the complexities of faith. "I don't get it," he admitted with a small pout.
Lyna chuckled again, patting his head gently. "And that's okay, Amu. You're still young. In time, you'll understand. Until then, just remember this—treat others the way you would treat your best friends. Show kindness, even when it's hard. That's how you'll gain God's favor."
Amukelo's face brightened with understanding. "So, if I'm nice to people, God will like me more?"
Lyna nodded, her smile unwavering. "It's not about liking you more—it's about showing that you understand His love. When you love others, you reflect the love He has for all of us."
The boy considered her words carefully, his young mind working to piece it all together. Then, with a determined nod, he hopped off her lap. "I'll do it, Mom!" he declared, his voice full of conviction. "I'll treat everyone like they're my best friends!"
Lyna watched him dart toward the door, with excitement. "I will!" he called over his shoulder as he ran outside, his laughter ringing through the air.
Left alone in the quiet room, Lyna smiled to herself, her heart full. Watching Amukelo's small form disappear into the sunlight, she whispered a silent prayer of gratitude.
"Thank you," she murmured, her gaze lifting skyward. "For this gift. For him."