"Mom!" I heard Maia calling from the backyard, getting increasingly closer to the kitchen where I was getting the girls' lunches ready.
Finally she walked in, with a small red flower. "I did NOT pick this," she said (she's gotten reprimanded by me for picking the neighbors' flowers). "But I found it, and I think it's a rose, and I wanted to give it to you."
"Thanks, Maia," I said, "that's very thoughtful."
Then on the way out the kitchen door, she cast a glance over her left shoulder toward an icon of Mary.
"Mary," she said, "You share that with my mom. And share it with Jesus too. It's for all of you."
So when I had a break in my work, I put the humble little faded "rose" over by the icon, so Mary and Jesus would know that I overheard Maia's instructions to them and was making an effort to share with them.