A Lova' Like No Otha'

by Stephanie Perry Moore

  When she asked me for my address, I frowned.

  But she reassured me quickly. “I just want to find a way to say thank you for all that you did for me tonight.”

  I shrugged and gave her my mother's address. I didn't really expect to ever hear from her again. She was probably just being polite.

  When she stopped chatting, I was finally able to lean back in the minivan and close my eyes.

  Dear Lord, I silently began my prayer. I want to always remember these moments. I want to always remember what it felt like to think I had reached the end of my earthly journey. From this point, I want to live my life only pleasing You. I know that it was only because of You that the plane landed safely. I could feel Your guiding hand. If You could do that, Father, You can surely do the same thing with my life. I paused and opened my eyes. This was certainly going to be the first day of the rest of my life.

  The next day, as I drove into my mother's neighborhood, I remembered how much I hated the projects. I detested the roaches, loud music, winos, random gun shootings and everything else associated with living there. But after the horrific plane ride, I was just excited to be home.

  And I was glad to be home so that I could resolve old issues with my mother. We had a lot of talking to do. I felt that I'd been damaged so much as a child, and the only way to get rid of all I was carrying was to get it out in the open. After we cleared the air, I hoped my mother and I could have the kind of mother-daughter relationship I knew we both wanted and needed.

  I barely stopped my rented car in front of my mother's building before she came running outside. She gripped me tightly when I got out of the car.

  “I've been so worried ever since you called from Dallas,” she said, trying to control her sobbing.

  “I'm okay, Mom,” I assured her.

  “I don't know how you were able to get on another plane after that,” she said, pulling back to take a good look at me.

  “It was scary,” I admitted, “but I knew God had everything under control. If the plane went down, then that was what He wanted with my life.”

  She peered at me, obviously surprised at my confident words. I opened my trunk and pulled out my suitcases. Last night, as I was settling in at the hotel, the airline called and told me that my luggage was saved. Although it didn't matter to me at that point, I was grateful. I gave one suitcase to my mother and then I carried the other.

  My mother couldn't take her eyes or her hands off me. I was a bit surprised. My mother had never been very affectionate, but I could tell from her outpouring of emotion that she loved me far more than I had ever given her credit for. I longed to tell her how much I cared about her and appreciated her. But she didn't give me the chance. As soon as we were inside her two-bedroom apartment and we sat down on the sofa, she began talking.

  “I'm sorry I wasn't the best mother to you and Alonzo,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I've done things in my life that I'm not proud of. But I sure am proud of you. You are such a blessing.” She patted my knee, tears misting her eyes. “I've been praying for you to come home for so long.”

  I was surprised again—this time by her words. For the last several hours, I'd wondered how I was going to bring up the subject, but now my mother was saying the things I wanted to hear. I knew it was God at work. He'd given me this second chance with my life and He was giving me the opportunity to fix the things that needed fixing.

  “I know, Mom. I'm sorry too,” I said.

  She shook her head. “You don't have anything to be sorry about. I'm just so grateful that God answered my prayers. He brought you home to see me.” She pulled a tissue from the box on an end table and dabbed at her eyes. “And just in time too.”

  It took me a moment to understand her words. “What do you mean, Mom?” I asked, catching the seriousness in her tone. “What's wrong?” My heart began to pound.

  “Sweetie,” she whispered, “they found a lump.” She placed her right hand over her left breast.

  The look in my mother's eyes was the same one I'd seen on the blond girl's face when our plane was descending so rapidly. Her words struck me like an explosion.

  Chapter 11

  Oh, Mom.” I hugged her tightly. I had never embraced my mom like that before. But then, I had never thought about losing her. At that moment, I realized that my mother meant more to me than I'd ever admitted. The last thing I wanted to do was let go of her.

  After several minutes, she pulled away and walked to the kitchen. Soft tears streamed down her face as she poured water into a teakettle and placed it on the stove. She pulled a package of tea bags from the cupboard and then turned to me.

  “I've been battling breast cancer for years, Zoe.”

  “Oh my God, Mom. Why didn't you tell me?”

  She shook her head. “I didn't want you to worry. No one knew, not even your brother.” She paused as if she needed the time to gather strength. “Sometimes the pain is excruciating, almost more than I can bear.”

  I shook my head. I couldn't believe her words. I tried to think back on the time I spent with my mother, especially as I was planning my wedding. But no matter what, I couldn't remember any clues. I never saw her pain. I just never knew.

  I guess I had been so wrapped up with my own life that I never gave much thought to what was going on with anyone else—especially my mother. My heart ached as I thought of all of those phone calls my mother had made to me in Seattle, and how I just ignored her. When she needed me most, I wasn't there. I was on the other side of the country, doing my own thing.

  “Last year, when they detected cancer cells in my right breast, the doctors removed them. But after the surgery, I felt even worse.”

  It hurt to think that my mom had been going through struggles that I knew nothing about. She had actually been in the hospital and I knew nothing about it. I tried to imagine which month it was—though it could have been anytime. I didn't speak to my mother or visit her very often.

  “Mom, I'm sorry I haven't been here for you.” I felt like my words were lame. Though I meant them sincerely, the words sounded hollow. There was nothing I could say to erase the fact that I was not there when my mother needed me.

  “I ain't gonna lie to you, Zoe. It's been rough. But God has been with me every step of the way. When I was hooked up to all those machines, He showed me that He could take me anytime He wanted. But He didn't. He wants my healing. But He's teaching me a lot through this.”

  My heart broke as I pictured my mother lying alone in a hospital bed, surrounded by cold machines and medical personnel who were paid to take care of her, along with dozens of other patients. No family. No cards. No flowers. And yet, she didn't seem bitter.

  “I don't want you to feel bad, Zoe. I was glad that I told no one. It made me depend on God. All my life I tried to handle things myself. I did everything I could to provide for my children, trying all kinds of desperate things: drugs, men, alcohol. But if I would have just trusted God to provide for us, things could have been so much better.”

  The teakettle whistled, and Mom poured the hot water over the tea bags inside two chipped mugs. As we sat at the kitchen table, sipping our hot drinks, my mother explained some of the procedures she'd endured.

  I listened, feeling as sorry for her as I felt for myself. “Mom, where do you stand now? What's going on with the cancer?” It was hard to even ask those questions.

  “Well, you're home just in time. Tomorrow I go to the doctor to see if the chemo has worked.”

  “I'd like to go with you,” I said, squeezing her hand.

  My mother smiled for the first time. “Thanks, baby. I'd like that.”

  When my mother hugged me, there was more love in her little run-down two-bedroom apartment than I'd ever seen or felt in even the grandest homes I'd visited. And that made me wonder why I'd always done whatever I could to get far away from here. Because right now, there was nowhere that I wanted to be more than at home.

  I stayed with my mom for a week. H
elping her was a sad joy. I was overjoyed to finally be there for her. But I felt miserable that she had to go through this terrible illness.

  We did get some comforting news from the doctor. It wasn't the news we wanted to hear. The cancer hadn't all disappeared, but the chemo was working. The cancer cells were being reduced.

  The treatments made Mom nauseated. But she was a trouper. Knowing that it was working spurred her on to endure the pain and discomfort. And I think it helped that I was with her. I was a visual reminder that she had much to live for.

  Her tenacity inspired me, and gradually, I began to see some improvement. My mother was getting better. Although she needed to take an afternoon nap every day, and she was a bit thinner, she acted like her usual healthy self in every other way.

  On the third day that I spent with my mother, I picked up her mail and noticed a small package addressed to me, from an unfamiliar address. I ripped off the brown paper wrapping and found a book by Max Lucado entitled In the Eye of the Storm. On the first blank page was a note: “Zoe, my life is forever different because you showed me, in the eye of my storm, how to stay focused on Jesus. With Him, I got through the storm. Thanks.” It was from LeAnn, the girl who sat next to me on the flight.

  I sat on the couch, turned the page and started reading. The words of the book came alive. They described so well the chaos that filled my life over the last few months.

  As I read the book, memories of my time with Chase came flooding back, memories that I had successfully tucked away and ignored amid all the activity surrounding my mother's illness. But now, as I thought about my life, I started feeling depressed again. I needed to keep focused so I wouldn't sink back into my sorrows. I wanted to keep my eyes on the big picture—keeping God in the center of my life. As long as I remembered that, I wouldn't be able to focus on the temptations around me. Then, before I knew it, I would be through the storm.

  I read the book for almost an hour, then went into the extra bedroom and prayed before I read my Bible.

  I was in the middle of John, the fourteenth chapter, when the telephone rang. My mother was still napping, so I rushed into the living room and answered, not wanting the ringing to wake her.

  “Hello?” I said quietly.

  “May I speak with Zoe Clarke, please?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

  “Speaking,” I said hesitantly.

  “I'm Mr. Douglas Ware, the public-relations director for the Seattle Storm. I received your résumé a few weeks ago and I was quite impressed. So glad your Miami information is still current. I didn't have anything available at that time, but a position has just opened and I'd like to offer you the special-events coordinator.”

  I recalled leaving my résumé in the front office of the Seattle Storm a while back. I was told by one of the secretaries that positions probably wouldn't be open till after the season. But she said she would process my résumé anyway. Since my chances weren't good, I hadn't given a thought to it since.

  “If you're interested, you could start right away,” he continued, sounding a bit desperate.

  “I don't understand,” I said. “Are you saying I wouldn't have to interview?”

  “Well, we lost the person who held the position quite suddenly,” he explained. “Terrible timing, since we've had several requests for our football players to speak at various events, now that the team is doing so well. We also have a Christmas party coming up, and with our record, we wanted to do something special.”

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This job would be an incredible blessing. Just being offered the position proved that with God all things were possible, even when secretaries said otherwise! But I wondered, Why me? Surely I wasn't the first choice.

  “We checked your references,” he said as if he could hear my thoughts. “I spoke at length with your former boss, Blanche Wright, who has occasionally organized events for us. She told me that you were primarily responsible for the governor's ball and the library dedication. Those were first class. We'd really be honored if you could come on board with us.”

  I was excited, but then I remembered where I was. “Mr. Ware, I'm in Florida right now on a family emergency. My mother is very sick.”

  “Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.”

  “Well, actually, I think she's doing better. But before I make any decisions like this, I'd like to discuss it with her.”

  “I understand. But, Zoe, I hope to hear from you soon. We won't be able to hold this position open for long.” As an added incentive, he gave me more details of the position: the salary, which would be more than I'd ever earned, the benefits and the vacation package. Even though I tried to contain it, my enthusiasm ballooned. I knew God was watching out for me. I wasn't even looking for a job, though it was a no-brainer that I needed one. But I had focused on staying connected with Christ, and He had provided.

  I took a deep breath. The only problem was that Seattle was the last place I wanted to be. If I took this job, I would have to see Chase again. I wondered how that would feel. Of greater concern to me, though, was the thought of leaving my mother now, when she really needed me.

  I paced in the living room until she rose from her nap. As I prepared sandwiches for us to nibble on, I calmly told her about the phone call from the Seattle Storm.

  “So, when do you start?” she asked, her enthusiasm matching mine.

  I was touched by her exuberance but needed to be sure that she wasn't acting. I had to know that she was really going to be all right without me.

  “I haven't accepted the job yet, Mom,” I said.

  “Well, for heaven's sake, why not? It sounds perfect.”

  “I wanted to discuss it with you first. If you need me to stay—”

  “I'll be fine,” my mother assured me. “You heard the doctor. Those latest reports showed that things aren't as bad as they could be. And I've been feeling so much better this week. I honestly believe I'll keep getting better.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Zoe, I've never been more sure of anything in my life.” She paused. “I really want you to take this position. It's the kind of work that you've been looking for.”

  I rushed to the table and hugged her, not wanting to ever let go.

  “Mom, I promise that I will call you every day, and if you ever need me, you have to promise me that you'll let me know.”

  “I will…”

  “And I will come home anytime you need me.”

  “Zoe, call them back and tell them that you accept the position.”

  I hugged her again and then ran to the telephone. I accepted the position, on the condition that I could spend a few more days in Miami with my mother. It seemed that Douglas Ware was happy to have me any way he could. He agreed to give me a week.

  My mother and I maximized our time together, taking walks to the park, watching television together and, most of the time, just talking. We talked through old memories that were painful to both of us, yet they became less so after we'd brought them into the open.

  “Baby, Mama's sorry I had my attention on all those men, instead of you and your brother. I just got so caught up with them drugs and stuff. I felt like nothin', and them men and them drugs…They made me feel like something. I ain't had no good job. No husband. But now, I realize I was a foolish woman. I had two beautiful children. Y'all's love could have carried me through.”

  Hearing those words of repentence warmed my heart like a cup of hot soup. We just hugged. I knew at that moment my mom meant so much to me.

  On the morning that I was to leave, I stood in the bathroom and stared in the mirror. I couldn't believe that seven days had passed since I accepted the position, and I prayed that I was doing the right thing—leaving my mother. But inside, I felt a peace that I hadn't felt in a long time. And I knew this came from God.

  My mother held my hand as we walked to my car for the final time. When I got into the car, Mom stroked my cheek and gave me some parting words of wisdom.

  “God chose tw
o different roads for us, Zoe. I'm so grateful for the time we've been able to spend together. Now we're entering a season where we won't be together all the time. But I'll pray for you every day.”

  I nodded, not wanting to cry. “I'll pray for you too, Mom.”

  She smiled. “I know you will, and in those prayers, we'll be together.” She gave me a final hug. “I am so proud of you,” she whispered.

  Once I pulled away, the tears began to flow. And I cried all the way to the airport.

  I called Shay as soon as the plane landed in Seattle. She was thrilled that I had returned and was happy to let me stay with her. Her wedding was still more than a month away, and that was more than enough time for me to find a place of my own.

  “Please don't tell Chase I'm back,” I begged her that night, once I was settled into her guest bedroom.

  She frowned. “I think it's stupid of you to try to hide from him. But if that's what you really want…”

  “It is,” I assured her. “I don't want him to be my focus. I'm going to try to walk in the Spirit, not in the flesh.”

  “Okay,” Shay said, agreeing to abide by my wishes.

  “So, how's the Seattle Storm doing?” I asked.

  Her eyes widened. “Don't tell me you haven't been following the team!”

  I shrugged. “Been too busy,” I said.

  She shook her head. “Well, it looks like we're in the hunt for the playoffs. We've been winning! And you know that Chase has been doing it. He's definitely the man.”

  Though I couldn't bring myself to see Chase, or even call him, I was glad to hear things were going well for him.

  The next morning, I arrived at the Seattle Storm headquarters thirty minutes before I was expected. Douglas Ware was already there and showed me to my cubicle.

  “I hate to throw you in right away,” Mr. Ware said. “But we have so much to do. First, the Christmas party.” He reviewed the details they had so far. “Now, feel free to come up with whatever strategy you think best, Zoe—theme, place, menu—all the stuff that will make the evening a memorable one.”