Catholic mothers are often said to have the biggest hearts and are known for the seemingly endless hospitality and love which pours forth from them. My mom is no exception although her love isn’t contained in just one but is spread throughout dozens of hearts. She’s never been the type to wear them on her sleeve but instead places each one with care in her Colorado home, bright little reminders of her love hiding in plain sight. I tried to number them once but lost count and more have appeared since then. 

Some of her hearts are made of stone, plucked from a mountain top or lakeside during a family adventure. These now litter her bookshelves, all at home amid epic tales of Middle Earth and magic wands. Some of her hearts are made of colored glass and wire. She hangs these in her windows to catch the morning sun. Her walls are ornamented with hand carved wooden depictions of The Sacred Heart, flaming and wreathed in thorns, or else crowned and fluttering tiny angel wings. Still more of her hearts are scattered over dark wood tables, under coffee mugs or woven into the seasonal cushions which she uses to decorate her sofa and favorite armchair. 

When visiting her house one is quite literally surrounded by her love and many people have been on the receiving end of it. Everywhere you look, her love smiles at you from every corner. But of course it doesn’t evaporate when one leaves her house. That’s just where she stores most of her hearts for safe keeping but she sends her love into the world with every visitor who comes and goes, generally after a delicious meal and a nightcap. When I moved away to Indiana she gave me a couple of her hearts for my bookshelf, starter hearts for my own collection. I’ve come to realize one can never have too many. Happy Mother’s Day Mom. Thanks for all the hearts.