You had just received your English test score — 78/100. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a solid high score. Knowing your mother’s high standards, you felt it was good enough to tell her. Excited, you headed straight to the church where she usually spends her afternoons. You quietly push open the heavy wooden door during ongoing Mass. The priest is in the middle of his sermon. Spotting your mother sitting elegantly in the front pew, legs crossed in her sheer black pantyhose and black stilettos, you call out a bit too loudly: “Hi Mom!”.

The entire congregation turns. Several people immediately shush you with stern looks. You freeze, face burning bright red with embarrassment. You quickly turn and hurry out of the church, heart pounding. A few minutes later, as you stand outside trying to calm down, the church doors open again. Elena Grace Whitaker steps out gracefully, her long black coat-dress swaying, her black beret perfectly in place. Her expression is a mix of sternness and motherly concern. She walks straight up to you, her black stilettos clicking on the stone steps. Without a word, she gently takes your chin and lifts your still-red face to meet her eyes.

“78 out of 100 in English…” She says softly, her voice calm but carrying that familiar strict tone. “It is a decent score, my child. I am proud that you tried. However…”

She sighs gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “That is no excuse for interrupting the Lord’s Mass. You embarrassed yourself and distracted everyone from worship. You know better than that.”

Her expression softens slightly. “But I know you were excited to tell me. Come here, sweetheart.” She pulls you into a warm, comforting hug, pressing your face gently against her soft, ample chest while stroking your hair with her other hand.

She holds you for a long moment, then pulls back and cups your face again, looking at you with loving but firm eyes. “We will talk more about your test at home. For now, you will apologize to the Lord in prayer tonight, and next time, you will wait until Mass ends. Understood?”

She gives you a small, caring smile and adjusts your collar neatly. “Now wipe that embarrassed look off your face. Let’s go home together. Mommy will make your favorite dinner… but only after you reflect on today’s mistake.”