| |
“NORMALLY I WOULD LOVE to come with you to Celebrate Recovery,” I told Zander the next evening, “but I should stay home with Emilio.”
Abe had already expressed interest in attending the meeting with Zander. With them leaving Saturday morning, I wanted to have Emilio to myself for a few hours.
After Zander and Abe left, I introduced Emilio to a new board game: Catan. He caught on quickly and we laughed and groaned our way through several spirited rounds. I won the first two games; Emilio shouted his victory when he defeated me in the third match.
“This is a fun game,” he said as we packed the game into its box. “I wish . . .” He let his words trail off.
I didn’t have to guess what he was wishing for, but I figured we needed to talk about it. I put the boxed game away, sat down on the couch, and patted the seat next to me.
He came and sat by my side. Stiff. Miserable.
I stroked his arm once. “What is it you wish, Emilio? Can you tell me?”
When he hung his head and a shudder ran through him, I pulled him into my arms. He didn’t resist. In fact, he clung to me.
His answer was garbled between gulps and sobs, but I managed to make out the words, “Jayda, I miss you. Why can’t you and Zander come home? Why can’t you work there? Why you gotta live here?”
I squeezed my eyes tight and savored holding Emilio close to me. He likely didn’t know how much I loved him and wouldn’t understand how I longed to comfort him, to be near him all the time.
All I could answer him was, “This won’t be forever, my sweet boy. We . . . Zander and I have a job to do here, but . . . when it is done, we’ll come home. I promise.”
He lifted his face to study me. “How long, Jayda?”
I heaved a sigh heavier than the Washington Monument. “I don’t know, mijo. I can only say that we must stay until the job is done, until our assignment finished.”
Those dark brows of his pulled together in concentration. “Your assignment?”
Emilio frowned, and then his brows shot up. “Are you . . . are you an’ Zander . . .” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “Are you guys, you know . . . secret agents?”
I’d never considered Emilio dull-witted. Quite the contrary; he was street savvy, perceptive, and extraordinarily bright—too bright, obviously, since he’d caught me off-guard.
He also had something of a “super-hero” fixation when it came to me. Still, how in the world had he cobbled “secret agent” out of the few phrases I’d uttered?
“Uh . . .”
“You can’t tell me, right? ’Cause it’s secret. ’Cause you’re hunting down bad guys?”
“Um, no . . . of course not.”
Those brows drew down a second time, and he glowered at me. “You lyin’, Jayda?”
I slapped on my poker face and pulled the “adult” card. “Don’t be disrespectful, Emilio, and don’t ask questions I cannot answer.”
He continued to study me without blinking. When he responded, he sounded too grown up for my liking. “It’s okay, Jayda. I understand.”
Then he hugged me, and I cherished every second of it.
***
ZANDER AND TOM CO-LED the Celebrate Recovery meeting that night, and during the circle time, Zander helped Tom facilitate sharing. It was a natural and effective way to ease Zander into the group’s leadership role.
Abe, too, seemed pleased by the meeting and asked for prayer for himself and Emilio. “I’m an old man set in my ways, and he’s a youngster with more energy in one day than I have all month. We’re getting along fine, but he needs some healthy outlets for all that energy.”
“That used to be my job,” Zander told the group. “I played ball with him and ran him ragged—until we moved away.”
When the circles broke up for fellowship time, Zander and Tom agreed it had been a good meeting.
“Um, Pastor Cruz, may I have a word with you?”
Zander turned. It was Jack. According to Tom, Jack had been attending CR for several weeks. “Sure, Jack. What can I do for you?”
The man’s discomfort was evident. “I . . . I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Pastor. I’ve screwed up my life pretty thoroughly and I . . . I’ve hurt a lot of people. Drugs and drinking are the main reasons I ruined my life. I admit that.”
Zander nodded and said nothing. He let Jack talk.
“Well, in all the dumb stuff I’ve done with my life, I somehow managed one really good thing, my daughter, Kaylee. She’s four now. Cutest little thing you’ve ever seen—big brown eyes, curly hair, a kind heart.”
Jack looked at his shoes. “I’m not allowed near her. Last time she saw me, ’bout six months ago, I was drunk. Made a fool out of myself. So . . . I don’t get to see her again until I can prove I’ve been clean and sober for a while.”
Zander nodded again and gave Jack’s arm a quick squeeze. “You’ve made a good start, Jack.”
“Yeah. A start. Long road ahead. I see that.”
“We’re here for you, Jack.”
“Thanks. I-I appreciate that.”
He had something more to say, so Zander just waited.
“The thing is, the thing I wanted to ask you . . . my sister Rachel sees Kaylee pretty regularly. She and my ex are still friends. Rachel called me today and said Kaylee is in the hospital.”
Zander realized how hard Jack was struggling not to break down, and his face creased in concern. “Is Kaylee all right?”
“Rachel said they’re doing a bunch of tests on Kaylee, that she has . . . a really high white cell count. That she probably has leukemia.”
Jack’s tortured eyes met Zander’s. “The courts say I can’t go to the hospital to see her. Can’t be within 100 feet of her at any time, but I’m dyin’, Pastor.”
“Would you like me to visit Kaylee and her mother for you?”
Unshed tears of relief shimmered in the young man’s eyes. “Would you, please? Tell my ex—her name’s Donna—tell her I’m trying to stay sober, that I’m sorry for the hell I’ve put her through. And . . . ask her, would it be okay if you prayed for Kaylee for me?”
Zander again gripped Jack’s arm. “I will. Please write down the info I need—hospital, Donna and Kaylee’s last names. I’ll go tomorrow. And give me your number so I can call you afterward.”
“I don’t have a phone, Zander. I live at a shelter right now. They let residents use their phone to look for work and such. If you give me your number, I’ll call you.”
Jack wrote the information Zander needed, and Zander slipped the paper into his pocket. About fifteen minutes later, he and his co-leaders finished cleaning up the meeting room. Tom showed Zander how to lock up the church and set the alarm.
“One more thing, Zander.”
“Yes?”
“Pastor Lucklow asked me to give you these.”
Tom handed Zander a small cardboard box. Zander opened the box and pulled out a business card. The card read,
Zander Cruz
Celebrate Recovery Ministry Leader
He found the church name, address, and Thursday evening meeting times on the other side of the card. His cell number was listed last.
“I don’t know what to say. Pastor Lucklow has put so much trust in me, and he hardly knows me yet . . .
“I think he and your former boss in Albuquerque had an extended conversation. Pastor McFee had nothing but the highest praise for you, your walk with God, and for your ministry work. As for these cards? We’ve found that we need them whenever we share with someone about the program. It’s an easy way to put meeting info into the hands of a person ready for change.”
“Well, I . . . I’m honored.”
During the drive home, Zander began to pray for Jack. For Donna. For Kaylee. “Lord, more than ever, I understand how drinking and drugs destroy not just the user but entire families—for generations. O God, I ask you to have mercy upon this broken family. Pour your conviction upon Jack and fill him with godly sorrow that leads to a true and deep repentance—and to everlasting life in you.”
***
ZANDER WALKED OUT OF the bedroom the following morning. He had showered and put on a freshly pressed shirt and tie.
“Yum! You look great today.” I leered at my handsome husband, and he planted a lingering kiss on me—to Emilio’s vocal disgust.
“That’s gross, man! You gonna make me lose my breakfast.”
“You won’t always feel that way,” Zander promised, laughing.
Emilio shook his head. “Naw, man. You crazy.”
“Why are you dressing up this morning?” I was curious.
“I need to make a hospital visit this morning. Visit a sick child.”
Abe joined the conversation. “Emilio and I thought we’d take the bus into Baltimore and visit the National Aquarium. Can you meet us at the aquarium after you finish?”
“Uh-huh. My call shouldn’t take me too long, but you will probably be glad to get there early. Where will you catch the bus?”
“I’m hoping Jayda will drop us at the mall to make our connection.”
“Well, shoot,” I groused. “Now I want to go, too.”
“You can call work, tell ’em you sick,” Emilio suggested.
“And that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”
Emilio heaved a longsuffering sigh, then put his nose in the air. “Well, we gonna have fun ’thout you.”
I ran my hand over his short hair. “I hope you do. I’m so glad you guys are here—even if I have to work and can’t run around with you that much during the day.”
Zander pulled his Bible toward him. “Speaking of work, we’d better start our Bible time before it’s time for you to leave.”
***
SOON AFTER ABE AND Emilio left with Jayda, Zander got in his rental car and followed his phone’s directions to the hospital where Jack’s daughter was a patient. Zander parked in the visitors’ lot, went through the hospital’s main entrance, and found his way to Kaylee’s room without too much difficulty.
The difficulties began when he introduced himself to Jack’s ex-wife.
He knocked lightly on the door and put his head in. “Good morning. Are you Donna?”
A twenty-something-year-old woman, frowzled and bleary-eyed with fatigue and worry, glared at him. “Who wants to know?”
Zander stepped into the room and pulled one of his cards from his shirt pocket. “My name is Zander Cruz. I’m a ministry leader at Grace Chapel in Columbia.”
She ignored the offered card. “Not interested.”
He glanced at the small, still figure on the bed. “May I have a moment of your time? Perhaps in the hall?”
Stifling an oath, Donna hauled herself up. “You better not be wasting my time.” She pushed him ahead of herself into the hall, closed the door behind them, and put her hands on her hips. “Well? Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
Zander projected what he hoped was a warm, disarming demeanor. “Donna, I assure you, I’m not selling anything. I facilitate a program at my church called Celebrate Recovery. Do you know what Celebrate Recovery is? Have you heard of it?”
“Nope.”
The warmth of Zander’s smile collided with Donna’s frosty glower and dropped twenty degrees. Froze in place. He switched to a more matter-of-fact approach. “Uh, well, Celebrate Recovery is a program for individuals who struggle with addictions.”
“I’ve got the perfect candidate for you—that *bleeping* no-good, *blank-blank* ex-husband of mine.”
“You mean Jack.”
She eyed him with more suspicion. “How do you know Jack?”
“He has begun attending our meetings.”
“Good for him,” she sneered. “Does that mean he’ll actually get a job and start supporting his daughter?”
“I—”
“Do you know how hard it is being a single mom, Mr. I’m-a-ministry-leader-at-some-*bleeping*-church? Do you know how hard it is to raise a child with a deadbeat dad? Do you?”
Zander said nothing for a moment, but he heard, beneath the rage, a cry for help. “Donna, you are carrying a heavy load. What can I do to lighten it, to help? Do you need groceries? Rent money? A car?”
He didn’t know why he’d said, “a car.” Maybe looking through umpteen car lots in the last two weeks had predisposed him to say the word
Lord, we can barely afford a second car ourselves. Did I just stuff my foot into my big mouth?
But the look that crossed her face was incredulous. “Y-you would get me a car? But . . . how did you know . . .”
Zander blinked. “I’m not a wealthy person, Donna, but my Father is. A car? Would a car help you? Is that what you need most?”
“Y-yes. We . . . Kaylee is so sick. When they let her out of the hospital, she’ll need ongoing tests and treatments. We have to ride the bus everywhere. It takes us an hour—sometimes longer—to get to her appointments. If we had a car . . . if Jack paid child support . . .”
Filled with sudden boldness, Zander said, “Donna. It may take a little time, but we’re going to find a car for you.”
Donna’s hardness cracked a little. Behind the façade, Zander saw hope warring with despair and doubt. He tipped his head toward the door to Kaylee’s room.
“Jack told me last evening that Kaylee is ill. He is very concerned for her.”
A little of the anger that had gone out of Donna resurfaced. “He’s concerned? How touching!”
Zander took Donna’s hand and sandwiched it between his. She tried to pull it away, but he held on and squeezed it gently to get her attention. “Donna, I want to say something to you. Something important. Is that all right?”
She looked down at her hand in his. When she looked back up, he saw tears in her eyes.
“Donna? Is it all right for me to tell you something important?”
She gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
“Thank you. What I want to say is this: Jack knows how badly he’s messed up. He admits to how badly he’s let you and Kaylee down. He wants to do better, and he’s trying to break the hold addiction has on him. It’s not going to be easy or fast, but if he continues the way he’s begun, he will, eventually, be able to hold down a job and support Kaylee as he should. He told me himself that he wants to do right by you and Kaylee.”
Zander again gestured toward Kaylee’s room. “Jack is heartbroken that Kaylee is ill. Although he wants to be here to support you through this difficult time, he acknowledges that the restraining order is his fault, that he deserves it. So, he asked me to come visit you and Kaylee in his place. That’s why I’m here. To offer you assurances that Jack intends to do better soon. Jack also asked if I would pray for you and Kaylee. Would you allow me to do that? Would you allow me to pray for you and pray for Kaylee?”
Donna’s face crumpled into deep lines of stress. “Does . . . does Jack know Kaylee has leukemia?”
“Yes, and he is grieving—just as you are. Despite his many hurtful choices, Jack loves Kaylee. Will you allow me to pray for her? For you?”
Donna slowly nodded. “Yeah. All right.”
Still holding Donna by the hand—and Donna clinging to his—Zander led her into Kaylee’s room. He approached the bed and studied the little figure under the blankets.
Beneath her brown, curly hair, Kaylee’s face was abnormally pale. Translucent. One arm lay outside the covers. Zander noted the IV catheter in her arm and the deep bruising around it and elsewhere on her arm. A nasal cannula delivered oxygen to the child as she slept.
“The doctors call it acute lymphoblastic leukemia,” Donna whispered. “Her bone marrow makes defective white blood cells. Those are the leukemia cells. Her bone marrow has made so many leukemia cells that they are crowding out all the healthy blood cells and platelets.”
Zander squeezed Donna’s hand. “God knows how to help Kaylee. Let’s pray, shall we?”
“I . . . I haven’t prayed in a really long time.”
“That’s okay. Why don’t you agree with me as I pray?”
“Yeah. All right.”
Zander took Donna’s hand and laid it on Kaylee’s forehead. He placed his own hand on hers. “Lord God,” he prayed, “we come to you in the mighty name of Jesus, asking that you heal Kaylee’s body. You know where the problem is; you know what is causing these abnormal cells to multiply. We ask that you fix this problem, that you stop the production of leukemia cells.”
He added, “I thank you for strengthening Kaylee’s immune system and increasing the number of good blood cells in her system. Lord, I also ask you to draw near to Donna and encourage her heart.”
Then, he prayed, “Father, Donna needs a car. Nothing is too difficult for you, Lord, so right now, we ask, in the name of Jesus, that you provide the car Donna needs. Thank you, Lord, for hearing us and for answering. When you answer, we will give you all the glory. Amen.”
“Amen,” Donna breathed.
Outside Kaylee’s room, Zander prepared to say goodbye. “I’ll go right to work to find you a car, Donna.” He took out his phone. “May I have your number? If it’s all right, I’d like to check in with you in a few days.”
She gave him her number. “Um, Zander? You wanted to give me your card. May I still have one?”
He grinned and plucked one from his shirt pocket. “Of course.”
“Thank you. Thank you for coming, and . . . tell Jack thank you, too.”
“I will.”
As Zander left the hospital and headed for the National Aquarium to meet Abe and Emilio, he murmured, “Well, Lord? Looks like we’re gonna need two cars. Good thing you own the cattle on a thousand hills.”
~~**~~
