My mom was my rock, my confidant and my best friend. She was an

Host: The room was warm, with the soft golden hue of the late afternoon sun spilling in through the window, casting a gentle glow across the worn wooden floors. Outside, the world hummed with the busy pulse of the city, but inside, the air was still, almost sacred in its quiet. Jack sat by the window, his eyes distant, lost in thought as the words of the quote echoed in his mind. Jeeny, sitting across from him with a cup of tea in her hands, watched him, sensing the shift in the air.

The silence between them lingered until Jeeny spoke, her voice gentle, almost as if testing the waters.

Jeeny: “I came across a quote today that made me think of family, of sacrifice. Matt Barnes said, ‘My mom was my rock, my confidant and my best friend. She was an elementary school teacher who worked with students with disabilities and she lived every day giving back to her family and her community.’ It really hit me. What do you think, Jack?”

Jack paused, his fingers idly tapping on the edge of the table before he looked up at her. The weight of the words seemed to settle deep inside him, and his voice was low as he spoke.

Jack: “That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, isn’t it? To be someone’s rock, their confidant, and their best friend. It’s a lot of roles to juggle all at once, especially if you’re doing it for other people too—your family, your community. Seems like she gave everything, but where did she get anything back?”

Jeeny looked at him, her expression full of empathy, as if trying to unravel the layers of his words.

Jeeny: “But maybe she didn’t need to get something back in the way you’re thinking, Jack. Maybe her joy came from giving. Maybe being that rock for others, especially for her family and her students, gave her a sense of purpose, of fulfillment. Sometimes, the act of giving, of showing up for others, fills you up in ways that are hard to explain.”

Jack tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing as he considered her words. He shook his head, though, his voice carrying a hint of skepticism.

Jack: “I get what you're saying, but you can’t keep giving forever without feeling drained, right? If you’re always the one holding it together for everyone else, when do you have the time to take care of yourself? Doesn’t it catch up with you eventually?”

Jeeny’s voice softened, her eyes steady on him as she responded, her tone patient but firm.

Jeeny: “You’re right. It’s hard to give without a balance. But maybe what Matt was saying is that his mom found a way to weave her own strength into the fabric of the people she cared for. She wasn’t just giving pieces of herself away—she was sharing her heart, her passion, her purpose. And sometimes, that’s what fills you up. Being part of something bigger than yourself, something that gives you meaning, even when you’re stretched thin.”

Jack scoffed lightly, his voice carrying a touch of frustration.

Jack: “But what if that’s not enough? What if you’re constantly giving and you never get the chance to receive? What if you’re left feeling empty because you’ve poured everything into other people’s needs and ignored your own? People can get lost in that.”

Jeeny leaned forward, her eyes gentle but full of an understanding that seemed to reach past the surface of his words.

Jeeny: “I think Matt was talking about the kind of giving that creates connections. Maybe she found a kind of satisfaction in seeing the lives she touched, in knowing that she made a difference. I don’t think it was about emptying herself—it was about building something meaningful with every act of care she gave.”

Jack’s eyes flickered, a moment of vulnerability slipping through, but his voice still held that edge of uncertainty.

Jack: “It just sounds exhausting to me. To live every day like that, always giving, always doing, always being the one everyone turns to. Where’s the time to just… breathe? To be yourself?”

Jeeny paused, her fingers curling around her cup, the warmth of the tea matching the warmth in her voice.

Jeeny: “I think that’s the balance we’re all searching for, Jack. Everyone has to find their own version of it. But maybe Matt’s mom understood something we often forget—that sometimes, being there for others, truly being present in their lives, is what brings us closer to who we really are. Maybe she didn’t need constant validation from others because she already felt fulfilled by her role in the world, by the impact she had.”

Jack sat back, looking down at his hands, his fingers still tapping in a familiar rhythm. His mind seemed to be wrestling with the thought, the idea of giving and receiving, of what it means to find purpose in the selflessness of others.

Jack: “I guess it’s about finding that peace, right? Where what you give isn’t just a sacrifice, but something that shapes you too. Where the act of giving doesn’t just deplete you, but fills you with a sense of purpose.”

Jeeny’s smile was small, but it was filled with an understanding that seemed to echo through the room.

Jeeny: “Exactly. It’s about the balance. Giving without expecting something in return doesn’t mean you’re giving everything away. It means you’re investing in the people who matter to you, and in return, you get to feel connected, you get to see the change you’ve helped create. That’s the kind of love and giving that doesn’t drain you—it nourishes you.”

Host: The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft clicking of the clock on the wall and the gentle rain outside. Jack leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful, the weight of Jeeny’s words settling in. The world outside might continue at its frantic pace, but for a moment, the stillness of their conversation allowed them both to reflect on what it means to give—and to receive—without losing sight of who you are in the process.