Some love is fleeting—conditional, transactional, or dependent on circumstances. But then there’s the kind of love Ruth showed Naomi—the kind that stays. When Naomi had nothing left to offer, Ruth chose her anyway. She didn’t just say she loved Naomi; she lived it. I think about this as I remember sitting beside my mom in her chemo chair. Her once-strong frame now frail, her smooth, bald head under a baseball cap. That day, she asked me to have lunch with her during treatment. But I was too busy—I “needed” to get in my lunchtime workout and eat my salad with light dressing. Still, she asked.