Mama B - a Time to Love (9 page)

“Lord, how could she do me like this?”

Jesus knows.

He also wept. Which is exactly what I
did, too.

Eunice’s leg got to hurtin’ so the next
morning, she couldn’t even get out of bed. “Call the doctor and tell him to
refill my pain prescription,” she begged me.

To be fair, I sat on the edge of the bed
and tried to contact the doctor. His answering service said he wouldn’t pick up
his messages until later in the afternoon. They advised me that Eunice should
take over-the-counter medicines until Monday or either go to the hospital.

Of course, Eunice didn’t receive that
news well. Oh, she moaned and groaned and writhed in pain, saying doctors were
nothing but “overpaid nerds.”

She wasn’t sayin’ that when she hit on
Frank.
“Lord, forgive
me,” I whispered under my breath.

“Forgive you for what?”

I guess I’d spoken too loudly. “Never
mind.” Since she was obviously in a lot of pain, I knew it wasn’t the right
moment to confront her about what she done the night previous. No, I wanted her
undivided attention whenever we had that conversation.

“I got some ibuprofen in my room.”

“No, I can’t take that. It upsets my
stomach. You got some Tylenol?”

“Sure don’t.” I was very glad to
disappoint her.

Stop it, B.
  “But I’ll run to the pharmacy to
get you some Tylenol.”

Her eyes glistened as she wiped her nose.
“Thank God!”

Yes, she’d better thank Him because left
up to me, she’d be at a shelter.

“I’ve got money in the front pocket of my
fanny pack.”

Since she’d offered, I reached into her
stash and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Under any other circumstances, I
wouldn’t have dreamed of taking money from someone in agony. But I reckoned
paying for her own medicine was the least Eunice could do.

Libby finally called me while I was at
the pharmacy. “What took you so long?” I quipped.

“I told you we had the women’s prayer
breakfast this morning. Why? What’s the problem?”

“Eunice.”

“She run away again?”

“I wish.”

Libby slurred sympathetically, “What
happened?”

“Put it this way, when she said she
shouldn’t be in the house with Peter, she was right. And that’s all I’m gon’
say about the matter,” I shut my trap.

“Well, I don’t want to lead you into
gossip and slander, ‘specially since I just came out the church-house, so I’ll
leave it there, too. Here’s her son’s number.”

I stopped to get a scrap of paper from my
purse and jotted down the digits. “Thank you. I’ll have to talk to you later.
For now, be prayin’ for her. That leg is really achin’ her this morning.”

“Will do. Bye.”

Well, at least I’d put Libby in Eunice’s
spiritual corner. Lord knows Eunice needed somebody rootin’ for her ‘cause I
sure didn’t have an unction to.

The sign above the aisle led me to the
row with pain relievers. Reluctantly, I grabbed the box of Tylenol off the
shelf. Tramping back toward the counter, I heard a familiar voice call my name.

There was Pastor Phillips to my left,
near the freezer. Instantly, my frown gave way to a smile. “Hello, Pastor!”

“Hi, B. Fancy seeing you here!” Glare
from the overhead lights made his forehead shine even more. A healthy glow, I
figured. Good to see him lookin’ like ninety-five percent of himself again.

“Same to you.”

“I didn’t get to talk to you much the
other day. How’s your family?” he inquired.

“Oh, everybody’s fine. Looking forward to
a good Thanksgiving. I got four kids but don’t hardly get to see ‘em ‘til the
end of the year. Shame, you know? We got to do better.”

He agreed. “And how’s your
friend—the smokin’ one?”

I chortled. “Oh, she’s ‘bout as good as
you can be after all she’s been through.”

“Yes. No matter how bad things are, they
could always be worse.”

I tried to think of what might be worse
than a person bitin’ the hand that feeds them. “Pastor, I gotta ask you a
question.” I scooted in closer to his basket.

“Sure, B. Anything.”

My Pastor meant it, I know. He and I done
had plenty counseling sessions. He a good shepherd, and Geneva was a worthy
helpmate. She always added extra wisdom to his advice. I probably would have
been done contacted Pastor about Eunice if I’d had that team in my back pocket.
Now, Pastor would have to suffice by himself.

“You ever tried to be nothing but nice to
someone, but they try to hurt you?”

He closed his eyes and nodded as though
he already understood what I was trying to say. “Yes, B. I know what you mean.
I’ve been praying for you ever since I saw that hint of contempt in your eyes
toward Henrietta.”

“Contempt?”
Henrietta?

“Yes. I know it’s hard to love somebody
who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated,” he persisted. “But
Jesus said in Luke six, if we only love those who love us and if we only do
good to those we know will do good to us back, we’re no different from sinners.
Anybody can love somebody who treats ‘em right. But a Christian has the power
to love the people we know won’t or can’t return it to us.
That’s
the
love of Christ.”

My lips stammered for the words to
respond. For one thing, I wasn’t talkin’ about Henrietta. For another, why he
use a harsh word like ‘contempt’? Is that what I showed toward Henrietta? All I
could say was, “Thank you, Pastor,” ‘cause he has surely bamboozled me there.

“I know you can do it. You’ve got the
love of God in you. He will prevail,” Pastor edified me.

Again, I expressed my gratitude. Me and
Lord would have to get back to this little sermon later ‘cause it flew straight
over my head at the pharmacy.

I stole a look into Pastor’s basket. Two
microwave meals and a bottle of Sprite. “What you doin’ eatin’ all this mess? I
thought the ladies packed some of the leftover food for you to freeze and eat
this week.”

“Yes,” he looked away, “most of what was
left was…you know…the stuff the peoples didn’t want. For good reason.”

“I see,” I conceded. Basically, he was
sayin’ all they had left was Henrietta’s food. “Not to worry, Pastor. Either me
or Ophelia will drop by and bring you something later on.”

“Yes,” Pastor purred, “Ophelia. How is
she?”

“She’s good.”

“Mmm. You know, the other day, when you
brought Dr. Wilson to church…you got me to thinking.” A shyness skidded across
his face. “We ain’t gettin’ no younger.”

“You right about that,” I could only
agree.

“I’ve been thinking about Ophelia.”

“Yeah, I think about her, too. Maybe the
Lord’ll send her somebody soon. She’s sure ready for some company,” I spilled
all her beans as I remembered her pressing me to acknowledge Frank’s interest
in me.

Pastor coughed. “I was thinking maybe…me
and Ophelia…” he shrugged.

I narrowed my eyes as his clues sunk in.
“You sweet on Ophelia?”

He rubbed his chin and shifted his weight
nervously from one foot to the other.

Inside, I got so tickled. Me and Pastor
was in the same boat. He ain’t asked no woman out in so long, hadn’t courted in
so long, the only tricks he had up his sleeve was the ones he’d used back when
he was young and insecure, in his early twenties; he was poking around a woman’s
friend to get a clue.

I had to help him out. “Why don’t you call
her and ask her to a movie?”

“You, um, yes,” he stumbled. “Okay.”

“Yes. Call her. I’m sure she’d be happy
to receive the invitation from you,” I encouraged him. Then I put a hand on his
shoulder. “It’s hard gettin’ back in the swing of things, Pastor, but if the
Lord has opened your heart to find another helpmate, that means He’s still got
work for you to do, and He knows you’re going to need someone behind you.”

His eyes shined. “I receive that in
faith.”

I really wasn’t sure how that whole thing
with Henrietta got brought into what I was saying to Pastor. In my mind, I
replayed what happened when Henrietta accused me of harboring sin in my home. I
thought I’d done a pretty good job of ignoring her.

I didn’t have too much to say to her at
the Friends and Family Day. She said something to me, of course, but I’d
ignored those words, too, ‘cause I know she ain’t all there. Bottom line with
me and Henrietta, I didn’t have no feelings toward her. For the time being, I
didn’t see nothin’ wrong with it. You can’t make nobody act right, you know?

Pertaining to Eunice, I still didn’t have
no good idea of how to act with Eunice.
Lord, exactly how am I supposed to
handle a snake?

Like I imagined an addict must look while
waiting for somebody to cut up the drugs, Eunice sat up impatiently as I opened
the box of Tylenol. I squeezed and turned the bottle, poked in the protective
foil, and pulled out the cotton ball. I poured two into her waiting hand.

“Give me another one.”

Her request went against the label’s
advice, but in light of the fact she was a grown woman who’d probably taken
more medication than most in her lifetime, I obeyed.

She downed the pills with the water I’d
brought her. “Ummm. I hope this works,” she whimpered. Sounded almost like a
dog.

Suddenly, I remembered the time Son’s
dog, Blackie, nearly lost an inch of his tail after following my child into the
house despite Son’s orders for the dog to stay outside. The screen door slammed
just before Blackie made it all the way inside, causing a nasty cut.

Of course, Son fussed at him for not
being obedient. But I remembered telling Son to be nice to the dog. Blackie
knew better than to come inside, he just didn’t want to listen that time.

Son had fussed at Blackie. Told him,
“That’s what you get for being such a
bad
dog!”

I intervened at that point, rubbing
Blackie’s neck the way he always liked. “Don’t be so rough with him right now,
Son, he’s hurtin’. Show him some mercy, even if it is all his fault,” I had
said.

That’s when the Spirit watered and
bloomed the seed Pastor had planted at the pharmacy: How could I show more love
toward a dog than a human being? I wasn’t supposed to be just toleratin’ Eunice
and Henrietta. I was supposed to
love
them. There’s a big difference
between the two.

I nearly choked at the revelation.

“B, you alright?”

Wasn’t no doubt in my mind then about how
to treat this trial the Lord had done placed in my life to perfect His love in
me. I reached out and pulled her into a big hug. “God loves you, Eunice.”

“My word, do I look like I’m about to die
or something?” she babbled into my ear.

“No. I’m just saying, He loves you no
matter what.”

“Okay. If you say so.”

I settled back on my bottom and looked
her in the eyes. “
He
says so. And I love you, too.”

Eunice’s head tilted slowly as she
blinked several times. “Thank you. No one has said that to me in a long, long
while.”

“Then it’s about time,” I said, propping
her leg up on a pillow. “Let me pray for your leg.”

She dropped her head and closed her eyes,
and I took the liberty of asking God to heal her leg as well as open her heart
to more love than she’s ever known in Him.

I
don’t usually answer my phone when an unknown number comes across my screen,
but seeing as it was Saturday, I figured the telemarketers were off duty.
“Hello?”

“This is Paul Lemon. I got your message.
How can I help you, Mrs. Jackson?” He said it all professional, like I hadn’t
told him my reason for calling was his own mother.

I went out of my way to sound friendly.
“Yes, Mr. Lemon, how are you?”

“I’m fine, ma’am. How can I help you?” he
repeated.

Goin’ off the fact of Paul having manners
(him calling me ma’am and all) I knew I needed to play the sweet old lady card.
“Son, your mother’s in a real bind here in Peasner. She hurt herself real
bad—”

“Is she okay?” he cut me off, with a
smidgen of genuine sincerity in his tone.

Thank you, Lord.
“Yes. For now. But that leg of hers
needs to be looked at and she won’t go to a doctor.” I tucked myself into a
corner of the kitchen to be sure that, even if I had to raise my voice, Eunice
wouldn’t hear me.

“Trust me. Once the pain gets great
enough, she’ll go. She always does.”

He had a point. A person can be as
stubborn as they want to, but a sharp twinge
will
change a mind; have
‘em beggin’ for a doctor, a nurse, an aide—anybody with access to a
needle.

It hurts to see somebody get to that
point, though. “Well, now, I know you don’t know me, sweetie, but…I’m a friend
of your mother’s.”

He interrupted with a laughing cough.
“She has
friends
?”

“Yes. I am her friend insomuch as I’m
for
her good.”

He stopped his sarcastic clucking. “I
see, ma’am.”

“In addition to being her friend, I’m
also a mother. And I know it would mean a lot to any mother for their child to
come see about ‘em when they down and out,” I coaxed with a few intentional
cracks in my voice.

“Not likely,” he grunted.

“You mind if I ask why not, young man?”

“Umm,” he mumbled, “no disrespect, Mrs.
Jackson, but I haven’t seen my mother in quite some time. She gets in trouble,
she gets out of trouble. She makes friends, she burns her bridges, she moves on
to her next victim…that’s how my mother is. My sister and I stopped trying to
change her a long time ago.”

I could almost taste the bitterness in
his words. My heart melted for him, for the fact of not having a mother for
whatever reason. But the presence of anger meant he still cared. The boy in him
hadn’t given up on his mother, no matter what his grown-up lips said.

“That’s fair, Paul. For what it’s worth,
your mother hasn’t always been the greatest friend to me. I’m sure, whatever
she did, she hurt you far worse than she hurt me, but she’s still your mother
and you only get one from the Lord. Now, you already got the right idea about
not changing her. All you need to do from this point on is forgive her for not
being the mother she should have been and accept her for the woman she is
now—
imperfect
as she is because she needs you, son. She really
does.”

I heard him swallow hard. “I…even if I
wanted to, it would be very hard for me to get to Peasner. I’m physically
disabled.”

“My goodness, and yet you still makin’ it
to work every day though, right?” I cornered him.

“Uh…yes, ma’am.”

Had him right where I wanted him. “Well,
bless God. My address is forty-two thirty-seven Miller Street. When should we
expect you?”

His voice twittled around for a few
seconds, but my immediate, silent prayer made it to God’s heart before the enemy
could feed Eunice’s son another excuse. He exhaled loudly. “Tomorrow afternoon,
I guess.”

“Two-thirty will be perfect. I’ll be
callin’ to make sure you don’t get lost, all right, love?” I confirmed with my
best southern senior citizen accent.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Alrighty then.”

Lord, forgive me for workin’ that old
lady “game” as Nikki would say.
Me
and Him both laughed at me. It wasn’t no game, really, ‘cause I
am
old
in age. We gotta have some kind of benefits.

I felt a press to get busy prayin’ before
this boy came over. I didn’t know what Eunice did wrong, but I knew she did
something right by raisin’ him to give respect where it’s due. Really, if more
parents did just
that
much, we’d solve half the problems in the schools
and put ten thousand prison guards out of a job.

Anyhow, I sent Frank a text and told him
to pray for Eunice and her son. Of course, he called me back as soon as he got
a break, wanting to know if there was anything he could do to help.

“No. Just pray. They got something going
on between them. He’s coming to see her tomorrow to try to talk some sense into
her about that leg.”

“Okay. Let’s agree now. Father, we come
to You asking for intervention between Eunice and her son. God, you know the
healing that needs to take place between them emotionally, and you know what
physical healing Eunice needs. God, I thank you for B’s heart toward them. For
the love that flows from You through her to people. Strengthen her as she
continues to intercede. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen,” I breathed again. Lord, that man
sure could pray. I’m sure everybody on the Spirit-line got a jolt on that one.
“Thank you.”

“Everything will work out for His glory,”
he decreed.

Nothing else to say except, “It is so.”

Me and the Lord talked for quite some
time about the situation with Eunice and her son. I prayed that the Lord would
mend Paul’s heart and soften the bad memories of his mother. I believe the Lord
can move on a person’s heart even if they’re not a believer. He did it with
Pharaoh, no reason why he couldn’t do it on Paul, especially since all souls
belong to Him anyway.

I prayed in the Spirit, too, because I
didn’t know quite what else to pray. When I creaked up off my knees, I crawled
into bed with a heart full of anticipation. So full, I had to get back out of
bed and praise Him in advance for whatever He was about to do.

Even though I couldn’t see it with my
eyes, I knew the enemy had to be stompin’ around like—what’s that
children’s book, Rumplestiltskin?—because his evil plan was null and void!