N8tivegirl

What My Mother Taught Me About the Human Heart

When I think about division in the world, I often find my mind drifting back to something very simple my mother taught me.

She didn’t teach me to see people by race.

She taught me to look at the heart.

It was never a speech or a lecture.

It was simply how she lived.

So when I raised my children, I tried to do the same. I didn’t teach them to categorize people by appearance or background. I taught them to look for kindness, character, and the quiet evidence of a good heart.

Because that is what truly matters.

When I think about the Bible studies I’ve hosted over the years, the image that fills my mind isn’t one of difference — it’s one of a table.

A long table filled with women.

Different races.

Different cultures.

Different stories.

Yet around that table there was something stronger than all of those differences.

There was laughter.

There were tears.

There were prayers spoken over one another.

And there was love.

Women passing plates of food, sharing stories of faith, encouraging one another through difficult seasons of life.

In those moments, no one was thinking about labels or divisions. We were simply women gathered together, learning, healing, and growing.

It made me realize something important.

Division is something the world teaches.

But love is something we can choose to practice.

And perhaps the greatest influence we have isn’t in grand speeches or public platforms.

Perhaps it is in the quiet spaces of our homes.

At kitchen tables.

At Bible studies.

In the everyday moments where people from different walks of life sit down together, share a meal, and remember that we are more alike than we are different.

Maybe that is where healing begins.

Not in arguments.

Not in accusations.

But in hearts that are willing to love first.