“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 quiet down as people glanced over sympathetically. Alan wiped his tears and tried to compose himself, but just then, his attention was caught by a woman who entered the church with her little girl. The child, nestled against her mother’s side, looked at Alan and smiled shyly. Alan’s heart swelled with longing once again, and his tears began anew.

“Jesus, look!” he cried out, gesturing toward the woman and her child. “That girl has her mommy with her. Why don’t I have mine? I’m begging you, Jesus, please let me see my mommy.”

Nancy looked at him, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite the sadness in her eyes. “You never know, Alan. Sometimes God answers our prayers in ways we don’t expect.”

Before Alan could respond, a woman’s voice suddenly sounded from behind them. “I’ll take you, my boy. I’ve come for you.”

Alan and Nancy turned around in surprise. The woman Alan had noticed earlier was now standing directly behind them. She was looking at Alan with tear-filled eyes and trembling lips.

“Alan, my boy! I’ve come for you. I’m here to take you home,” she said, her voice breaking.

Nancy’s face was a mix of surprise and confusion. She held Alan protectively, turning to the woman. “Who are you? And how do you know his name?”

The woman took a step closer, her eyes locked on Alan. “My name is Annette,” she said. “I’m Alan’s mother. I left him at the shelter six years ago. I come here almost every day to see him from a distance. Today…I couldn’t hold back anymore. I’ve come to take him home.”

Nancy looked stunned, glancing between the woman and Alan. “Your son? If you’re truly his mother, you must have proof.”

Annette reached into her purse and pulled out an old photograph. In it, a younger version of herself was holding a newborn, wrapped tightly in a blanket, gazing at him with eyes full of love and sorrow. “I was 16 when I gave birth to Alan,” Annette explained, tears rolling down her cheeks. “My parents forced me to abandon him, and I had no choice back then.”

Annette’s story came pouring out. She had fallen in love with a boy at a young age, only to be left heartbroken when he abandoned her upon learning of the pregnancy. Her parents, unwilling to support her decision to keep the child, gave her an ultimatum—abandon the baby or lose everything, including her family and inheritance. Devastated, Annette left her newborn son on the shelter steps, unable to see any other way. She moved on, finished her education, and eventually married a man named Jason, who knew about her past but assumed she’d left it behind.

“I tried to live my life, but I could never forget him,” Annette said, choking up. “For years, I visited this church, hoping to get a glimpse of him. But today, hearing him cry out, I just couldn’t walk away again. I need him in my life. I want to take him home and make up for the years I’ve lost.”