" Noah wasn’t surprised. He’d been unable to imagine a scenario where his mother would have had a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. It was hard to imagine her in any relationship at all. But knowing his father was a random, homeless man didn’t do much for Noah’s self-worth. He had no response to the revelation. What could he say? Surprisingly, it was his mother who broke the silence.
“You’re a miracle, Noah,” she whispered, haltingly.
“What?”
“You’re a goddamn miracle.”
Her vehemence shocked him, and he stared at her, waiting. She met his gaze before looking back at the TV. The honorable Harry Stone was comforting his bailiff, Bull.
“You made me a believer,” she muttered.
“In what?” He willed her to look at him again, afraid she would just stop talking like she so often did.
“In God.”
“Why?” he urged. His voice had risen, and she exhaled heavily, like the whole conversation just made her tired.
“I sure as hell didn’t create you. That piece of shit who humped me didn’t create you. We made your body. But we didn’t make your soul. Your soul came from somewhere else, I’m sure of it.”
It was the nicest thing his mother had ever said to him. The wisest thing. And maybe because she rarely said anything at all, he believed her. "
― Amy Harmon , The Smallest Part