“All right,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. I smiled. “Show me the rest of the dresses you like.”
Shay led me back to the huge dressing area and I helped her unzip the gown.
“Really, Zoe,” she asked, “what's going on?”
I sighed. “I just saw Chase at an event and he's dating another girl. I was gone for only two weeks; he never tried to get in touch with me and now he's with somebody else.”
“Oh, Zoe, he wanted to call you,” Shay said as she stepped out of her dress.
I frowned. “How do you know?”
“He asked me for your number.”
My eyes opened wide. “He did?”
“Yeah.” Shay placed the gown on the hanger. “He called me, like, three times asking where you were.”
“What did you tell him?” I held my breath.
“I told him exactly what you told me to say. That you didn't want to talk to him. That it was over between you two. That he needed to move on and not try to track you down.”
I groaned. “Why'd you tell him that?”
“That's what you told me to say. You made me promise.”
I slumped onto the dressing-room bench. “I didn't really mean it. Couldn't you have told him that I missed him?”
Shay parked her hands on her tiny hips. “Like I'm supposed to read your mind? I don't know you that well. I did what you told me because I didn't want to get you angry. You were adamant when you left.”
“I know, but…” I shook my head.
Shay sighed. “I'm sorry if I did the wrong thing, Zoe, but I honored your wishes. It just wasn't my place to tell Chase something different.”
“I'm sorry, Shay. You're right. But what am I going to do now?” I felt like crying. “Chase is with somebody else, and he thinks that I don't even want to talk to him.” I left the dressing area, shaking with frustration. The raging winds of despair were attacking me from every side.
I knew that I had no right to blame Shay for telling Chase exactly what I asked her to say. How could I have been so unfair? I was trying to start an argument, blame it all on her. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe all the girlfriend drama I'd experienced in the past was at least partly my fault.
Even with Tasha. Though I knew that she had told just about everyone we knew in Miami about my troubles, maybe that was partly my fault. Maybe I had made her jealous in some way. My mother had told me that Tasha was telling people that I got what I deserved. Well, I didn't deserve the humiliation, but in this situation with Chase, maybe I was getting what I deserved. I had told Shay what to say and she had said it, and now I had to live with the consequences.
I returned to the dressing room. Shay was sitting in one of the velvet chairs, clad only in her underwear, her head lowered in her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were red.
“I didn't mean to break you and Chase up,” she cried.
I hoped that my smile would cheer her up and change the mood.
“Let's not talk about this anymore. You've got a wedding to think about, and I'm not serving you the way I should.” I sat in the chair next to her. “I've got a lot of issues right now, but I shouldn't be putting that on you. Come on now, show me another one of those dresses.”
Shay searched my eyes and then hugged me before she reached for a second dress. I helped her slip into the gown.
“You know,” I said, fastening the row of pearl buttons that lined the back, “I believe God's trying to teach me something.”
“What?” she asked.
“It's all about storms,” I said, thinking about that Max Lucado book the girl on the plane had sent me. “My ruined wedding was a terrible storm, and it took me a long time to get over it. But every time I make it through one storm, it starts raining again, and the next thing you know, I'm going through more lightning and thunder. Seeing Chase with another girl was just the latest crazy storm God's allowed into my life.”
Shay placed her hands on my arms. “You need to get a better perspective, Zoe. God has given you a great new job. And even though Chase seems to be dating somebody else right now, I know God's gonna work that out too.” She grinned at me. “He's told Byron several times that he misses you,” she whispered as if she were telling me a secret.
I wished I could believe her, but I shook my head. “You didn't see him today,” I said sadly. “I really think he's moving on. But, once again, I'm the one to blame.” I stepped back and looked at Shay in the new dress. “But, hey, enough about me. You are going to be a beautiful Christmas bride.” I smiled, thinking about how Shay and Byron had decided to marry at midnight on Christmas Eve.
“Thanks,” she said. “And don't worry. Your day is coming too.”
We embraced again. It had been a while since I felt good about girlfriend interaction. The moment meant a lot to me. I had lashed out at her, yet she gave me grace. The same kind of grace God gave me daily. I knew I needed to do my part.
I stepped back and eyed her in the dress. “You know, I like this one better than the first. But you'll look good in any of them. Okay, put on the next one,” I said, taking another dress from the rack. “Let's take a look.”
Shay took one last look at herself in the mirror and then began to slip from her dress. We chatted as she tried on dress after dress. And, by the end of the day, I had almost forgotten about my troubles and was beginning to be very excited about Shay's big day.
For the next two days, I sat in my cubicle answering one phone request after another for the new Storm star, Chase Farr. It seemed as if every organization in Seattle wanted him to appear at its functions. I was proud of him, but I was also getting tired of feeling like his personal secretary.
But that wasn't the only thing getting on my nerves. I was sick of hearing people chat about their Thanksgiving plans. It wasn't like I had anywhere to go or anyone special to spend the day with.
Shay had invited me to spend the holiday with her and Byron, but I couldn't stand the thought of watching them be all romantic with each other. It would just remind me of what I didn't have, and I didn't want to go there.
Late Wednesday afternoon, the day before Thanksgiving, I was about to leave the office when the phone rang again.
Lord, I prayed, please don't let this be another phone call about Chase!
The moment I picked up the phone and heard my brother's voice, I remembered the cliché that said you had to be careful what you prayed for.
Shock waves jolted through me when Alonzo said, “Zoe, can you talk?”
“It's Mom, isn't it?” I asked, barely able to get the words through my throat.
“Her cancer came back,” Alonzo said. “But this time, it's in her brain.”
“Oh, no.” My body turned to jelly and I fell into my chair.
“You need to get home right away” my brother insisted. “She's asking for you.”
Weeks earlier, if I had received this phone call, I would have asked, Lord, why? And though I certainly didn't want this to be the end of my mom's life journey, I was now at a place where I wanted her to be at peace. I was just thankful that God had allowed me time with my mother to talk through so many of our issues and for me to finally know what an awesome mother I had.
“How is she feeling?” I asked Alonzo.
“She's really frail and weak, Zoe. Her eyes are red and swollen. I can practically see her bones. Though she tries not to complain, she's in constant pain. She can't stop moaning.”
“Alonzo, I'll be home as soon as I can. I'll keep you posted about my arrangements.”
I wasted no time rushing to Mr. Ware's office and explaining that I needed some time off.
“I understand this is awfully soon since I just started. If you need to replace me, Mr. Ware, I understand. But I have to go to my mother.”
“Of course you do,” my boss said with empathy. “You take as much time as you need. We'll muddle through until you get back.”
I thanked him profusely. “I promise that when I get back I will get ev
erything under control.”
“You know, you'll be hard-pressed to find an open seat on any flights tonight,” he warned. “With it being Thanksgiving.”
My heart sank. I hadn't thought about that.
Mr. Ware must have seen the distress in my eyes. “You know what? Let me see if I can arrange a private charter for you. I'll call the team's pilot.”
I couldn't believe Mr. Ware was doing this amazing thing for me, and I could see God's hands all over this. I thanked God for such an incredible boss and for the blessing He was giving me.
That night, I was on a shuttle from Seattle to Miami and I thought about my mother the entire cross-country trip.
It was bittersweet that my mother and I had just arrived at this place where we could have a good relationship. For so many years, I'd carried so much baggage, resenting everything about my mother, especially the way she lived. I blamed many of my problems on her and the way I was raised. I blamed her for my promiscuity. The way she had men in and out of our apartment all the time. Loving them so that they could put dinner on the table. I had watched her please men with her body, so I grew up thinking that was the only way to keep a man.
But there was no blame to be placed. My mother did what she had to do, what she thought was right at the time. She had made her peace with God and I was so glad that I had made my peace with her. God had extended His grace to both my mother and me. And I was learning to extend grace to my mother.
The sun was rising in Miami when Alonzo let me into my mother's apartment and I walked into her bedroom. She tried to smile and held out a thin, frail arm to me. Just lifting her arm off the bed seemed to be a struggle. I clasped her cold hand tightly and buried my face into her bosom.
“Oh, baby,” she said in a weak voice. “Don't cry.”
When I looked up again, I couldn't believe how she had deteriorated since I'd last seen her. It wasn't fair. “Mom, as I was flying here, I never questioned God for a minute. But this isn't right.”
“I'm really tired, Zoe.” Mom spoke with the wistful sound of a tired saint. “But I'm excited about what's yet to come for me. I feel ready for heaven.” Although her words were difficult to accept, they sounded like sweet music. It seemed the Holy Spirit was speaking. God had given her Himself.
“When I hear that trumpet sound,” my mother continued, her eyes glassy and unfocused, “I'm going up yonder to be with my Lord.” She turned and looked at me. “But first, I get to tell you how sorry I am that I wasn't the kind of mother I should have been.”
“Mom, you don't have to say that anymore. We already talked about it and I forgive you, just like I hope that you've forgiven me.”
My mother tried to smile. “I don't have anything to forgive you for. You've been the perfect daughter.”
I shook my head, but I couldn't speak.
My mother said, “I am proud of the way you turned out. Zoe, you're more wonderful than I ever hoped.”
“Oh, Mom,” I said through my tears, “I'm far from perfect.”
“But just look at you. You went to college. You got a good job. You're beautiful, talented, strong.”
“I don't feel very strong right now,” I whimpered.
“That's all right. The Lord's gonna do something great with you in His time. He's just using this cold winter season of your life to get you ready.”
I was surprised at what she said. Winter. That was exactly what I felt like I was going through, a winter in my emotions. “What do you think God is trying to prepare me for?”
“For whatever He has planned for you to do, my girl. And don't worry. You won't have to do it alone. God told me He's sending you a good man.”
I sniffed. “I'm afraid I've already blown God's blessing in that area.”
“Zoe, if I would have known the Lord in my twenties, like you, my life would have been so much more fulfilling. If only I had known what He called me to do and done it earlier!” She paused and coughed.
I knew it was difficult for her to talk, but she was determined to continue.
“Now, 'cause of my illness, I got church folks and neighbors from the projects all coming by to see me. And I been talkin' to 'em all about the Lord and witnessin' to 'em. I been able to tell 'em that they gotta know Christ. I'm witnessin' more from here in this bed than in all the rest of my years on this earth. I've even been helpin' some folks get saved, Zoe! God has been using my last days to make sure other people have endless days. I'm so thankful. I don't deserve to be used.” I squeezed her hand tighter. “My life has been nothin' but drama. But I can truly say that at the end I've had peace.” She squeezed my hand. “Find out what God wants you to do, Zoe, and just do it. Be ready when He calls.”
My tears fell onto the paper-thin skin of her hand. “Oh, Mom, I can't stand the thought of losing you.”
“You're not losing me, baby. The connection we have through Jesus will go on forever.”
I pressed my lips against her fingers. “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too, baby. Always know that.”
I laid my head on her chest and rested.
I spent the entire day with my mother and brother, but we didn't celebrate Thanksgiving in the traditional way. We ordered a pizza and spent our time just talking, bonding and using the time that God was giving us to get closer.
“Hey, Zoe, isn't the Storm playing today?” Alonzo asked at one point.
I glanced at the television but didn't have any interest in turning it on. I shrugged and Alonzo let the subject drop.
That night, I helped Alonzo tuck Mom into bed.
“Mom, would you like me to stay in here with you?”
She smiled. “I'd like that,” she said before closing her eyes.
My plan had been to just stay until my mother fell asleep, but when I took her hand in mine and laid my head on her chest, I fell asleep to the soft rising of her chest.
It was after three in the morning when I woke up. I looked at my mother; she was smiling in her sleep. I leaned over to kiss her and her cheek felt cold.
My heart began to pound. I felt her hand. Cold. I touched her forehead. Cold.
Slowly, I backed out of the room and woke up Alonzo, who was sleeping on the couch.
Without words, he jumped up and ran into Mom's room. I paced in the living room, fighting to hold back my tears. When Alonzo came out and held me, I finally admitted the truth: My mother was gone.
I walked through the next days in a fog, smiling at the people who came by to express their condolences, making arrangements as if it were part of my job, helping my brother divide up Mom's few personal possessions, most of which we were going to donate to charity.
It was only when I was alone at night that I released my pain into my pillow, crying tears of sorrow for the years I'd wasted blaming my mother for my life. But I was also releasing tears of joy for being closer to my mother and having been with her when she took her last breath.
On Sunday when I awakened, I prayed that the Lord would give me strength to get through the day—that He would provide a way for me to say my final good-bye to my mother.
The church was frigid, even though it was packed with people. Alonzo and I held hands as we marched into the church past all of the others who had come to pay their last respects. Although I could feel everyone looking at me, I kept my eyes straight ahead—looking at the front of the church. Looking at the casket that held my mother.
When Alonzo and I got to the front, he squeezed my hand tighter. I knew he was worried about me, but I smiled at him, letting my brother know that I was all right.
I looked down at my mother lying in the casket, cold and still. She looked at peace. It was as if I could see Jesus holding her.
As I kissed her forehead, I felt like I was in a valley and I was too weak to make the climb out. Tears rippled down my face, and I nearly collapsed. My brother did his best to hold me up. Uncles and aunts surrounded me as I made my way back to the pew.
It was good to know my mother w
as with the Lord, but I felt abandoned. My heart was caught in a churning funnel cloud of despair. I had to find some joy. Mom wasn't suffering anymore, and someday I knew I would join her. In the end, she'd found Christ. That alone was enough to make me shout, Hallelujah!
As the pastor spoke, I rejoiced for my mom. But I felt sorry for myself. My mother wasn't coming back. We had finally found a connection and now there was no opportunity to grow closer. Even though I knew she was better off, I felt devastated.
My cousin Ray stood and sang a song called “Anchored in the Lord.” It was a testament to my mother's life, and to mine as well. His voice sounded heavenly. God knew I needed to hear that song.
My mom had suffered through more strife than I ever would. And yet, in the end, she had hope. She knew that if she didn't wake up on this side of heaven again, she would be going to a special place that God had prepared. Her struggles didn't stop until the very end, but her precious soul was anchored in the Lord.
Pastor Paul Porcher took the podium. “Sister Clarke lived her last days in a way that let others know Christ is the way,” he said in his soothing preacher's voice. “She used every opportunity to talk about God and the amazing things He had done for her. And for any of you who didn't get a chance to hear her tell her story, she wanted me to tell you about the One who saved her, and who can save you too. The Lord can clear up any troubles that come in your life. Sometimes that very trouble is what makes us draw near to Him. He's knocking on your door right now, people. If you put your ear close enough to the door and stay real quiet, you can hear Him.”
“Preach on!” somebody called from the back.
“But if you keep doing the things of the world, if you keep living crazy, He's gonna have to bang down the door and make you get it. Now, while there's sunshine in your life, is the time to praise God. Not for what you don't have, but for what He's already given you!”
“Amen,” said another mourner.
“Know that you are nothing without Him. When the whirlwind comes and rips your world apart, it'll make your day turn into unending night. If that night comes too quickly, if it turns so dark that the wave encompasses your calm beach, you might be taken into the water, where you'll suffocate and drown and find yourself in hell eternally.”
A Lova' Like No Otha' Page 15
