by Tessa Afshar
Boaz rushed to her side and enfolded her in comforting arms. “Naomi!”
Ruth listened to Naomi’s howls of anguish in stunned dismay. Not until this moment had she comprehended how deeply Naomi treasured her. Her pain was a measure of her love.
“Naomi,” she whispered and beckoned with her fingers. “Come, Mother. Come and let me hold you in my arms.”
Naomi ran to Ruth’s side and, falling to her knees at the side of her bed, brought babe and mother into a tender embrace. “My daughter. My daughter, Ruth. God has brought you back to me. My precious daughter.”
Boaz joined the jumble of tangled arms and added his own embrace to that of Naomi’s.
By then, Mahalath and her mother as well as Adin had been drawn to the noise emanating from Ruth’s room. Several other servants stood respectfully just outside the door. Everyone wept with stunned joy.
Finally Boaz stepped away from Ruth, his movements reluctant. “I’m sorry, my love. We have tired you out. You must eat. Sheba, did you bring my wife some food?”
“I fetched your own supper, master. I never dreamed the mistress would awaken. Praise be to God!” She pressed the corner of her sleeve to her wet lashes.
“No matter. We’ll feed her whatever you brought me.”
“Oh no, my lord! That wouldn’t do. She needs something simple, as yet. I have a cup of sweet wine here. Mahalath, dip a bit of bread and give it to the mistress for now, until I go and prepare her something suitable.”
Boaz took the bowl out of Mahalath’s hands. “I’ll feed her myself, Mahalath. Thank you.”
Naomi kissed Ruth on the forehead. “We better vacate this room and allow Ruth to rest. We can all come back and visit later.”
Ruth gave a tired smile. “You stay, Mother.”
Naomi turned to Boaz. He nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of you being anywhere but here. We need you, Naomi.”
Her childhood years had taught Ruth that if she wished to be accepted, she had better be useful. She had better not be a bother to a family who was always too stretched to pay mind to one more child’s needs. As an invalid, she could neither be useful, nor help being a bother. Through the first week of her recovery, she battled a constant wretched anxiety at the lingering weakness in her body. She wanted to throw off her covers and get on her feet. She expected everyone to start growing impatient with her.
Instead, her little family and faithful circle of friends encouraged her to rest, taking offense at her attempts to push herself into activity too soon. They acted as if they did not care that she was a burden to them. As if caring for her was a precious gift. If she smiled at them, they behaved as if she had presented them with a parcel of fertile land. If she asked for something, they responded as though fulfilling her wishes brightened their day.
Boaz never left her side. He fed her with his own hand, teased her when she spilled her food, combed her hair to keep it from tangling. He didn’t even go to check on his horses. She could sense that he needed to be near her for now. Her mere presence, useless as she seemed to herself, gave him strength.
Naomi proved little better. If Ruth so much as shifted, a new pillow found its way behind her back. Her tongue had no sooner run over dry lips than a bowl of warm milk rested against her mouth. Ruth was stunned at the fuss everyone made over her. She had little comprehension of how close to death she had truly come, or how her survival seemed no less than a miracle to those who had witnessed her slide toward the grave.
She only knew that she was loved beyond her wildest dreams. She belonged to this small band of people. They had made a home for her with their constant affection. Slowly, love began to repair Ruth’s broken body. She was surrounded with it, drenched by its healing powers. Although she continued to experience lingering pain, she felt hopeful that she would be restored.
One evening, as she held Obed, staring into his sleepy eyes, a promise sprang to her mind.
I have loved you with an everlasting love.
I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.
She remembered the words of the man whose voice roared like many waters, remembered them with rare clarity, for her dream had faded more from memory with each passing day. With the recollection of the words came other memories, and her heart was flooded by the man’s steadfast affection for her. She remembered His power, and the desire she had sensed in Him to keep her safe. To shield her from harm.
She told Boaz of her strange dream, and the lingering experience of the man’s love that at times overwhelmed her heart. “When I cradled Obed in my arms just now, I remembered that sweet presence. Not that He was docile, mind. He scared me half to death with His wildness. But He loved me too, the way I love Obed. More even, though that’s hard for me to imagine. There were no limits to His love, and no fear either, the way sometimes I fear for Obed.”
Boaz pulled his fingers through Ruth’s unbound hair. “Perhaps it was the angel of God.”
“I think not. He seemed … more, somehow.”
“More than an angel?”
Ruth shifted on the bed. “I cannot describe Him adequately. It was like being in the presence of the sun. He is the one who sent me back to you.”
“Then whoever He was, I owe Him my life.” He bent to peek at Obed, lying against her chest. “Our son has fallen asleep. I better put him back in his cradle so you can eat.” He lifted Obed with care and placed him in his padded basket. Wetting a napkin with tepid water, he wiped the milk trails that stained the baby’s cheek. Ruth straightened her clothes and sat up against the pillows. Dinah, to everyone’s surprise, had proven right. Ruth’s milk had come in and she had been able to feed Obed herself for some days now.
“What did you mean when you said sometimes you fear for Obed?”
Ruth sighed and rubbed her sore breast. “I fear I might not be a good mother and fail him. I fear he might grow sick. I fear I might lose him. I fear I won’t teach him what he needs to know to be happy. To be a good man. My parents taught me little that I can pass on to him, Boaz. I didn’t grow up like you, in the shadow of the Lord.”
Boaz sprawled on the bed next to Ruth. For an active man, more often on the back of a horse, inspecting his land and attending to business affairs, he had shown great ease with being stuck at home for days on end. “I may have grown up in the shadow of the Lord, but I have similar concerns.”
“You have?”
He nodded. “No more than a handful of weeks ago, I did not even wish for a child. My fears were too great.”
“And now?”
“God has given me the desire of my heart. The desire I did not even know I had. When you came into my life, I thought having you as my wife was all I wanted. God understood my heart better than I did myself. I had buried my longing for a child out of fear. But God would not let that longing remain buried. He knew that in order to resurrect that dream, I had to face those fears. If He had left it to me, I probably would not have chosen that battle.”
“Too hard?”
He nodded and kissed her gently on the lips. It was the first time since her sickness that he had kissed her this intimately. She felt heat rise up her chest and suffuse her cheeks. He still wanted her, in spite of the fact that ill health had reduced her body to an unappealing stick and robbed her of beauty. She blinked back quick tears of relief. Since awakening from her deathlike sleep, he had made it clear that his love for her remained strong. But she had begun to wonder if he had lost interest in her as a woman. His kiss, gentle and brief though it had been, carried a definite promise. She gave a small, satisfied smile.
He smiled back and kissed her again. “Remember that night on the threshing floor?”
“It was the best night of my life and the worst. How could I forget?”
“I never could have imagined, that night, the gift God wanted to give me. Having you seemed more than enough. Yet the Lord had a plan for us. He wished for this son to be born from your flesh and mine. Sometimes, I am overwhelmed by the enormity of my love for him.”
“I feel the same.”
“One day, Obed will grow and have sons of his own. Grandsons. Great-grandsons. You have given me a lineage, Ruth. Flesh of my flesh to continue through the generations. I had long since given up hope on such a possibility. Now, when I hold Obed in my arms, I know that he will continue my name as well as Mahlon’s. I will live on in him.”
Ruth leaned her head against his chest. “The Lord wanted me to be the mother of your sons. He used you to redeem Naomi and me. To give us a future. But what is even more incomprehensible is that He used me to redeem your future from extinction. He brought me all the way from Moab so that through me He could give you a future and a hope.”
Late one morning, just after Ruth had improved enough to go below stairs, she walked into the guest chamber in search of Naomi, Obed resting against her shoulder. She found Naomi surrounded by a dozen of her friends and the women of the neighborhood. They rushed to their feet as she entered, cooing to the baby and vying for his attention.
Miriam plumped several fat pillows and drew Ruth to sit near her. She offered a squat finger to Obed, who grabbed it in a confident grip. She laughed. “Strong fellow. Watch you don’t break this old finger of mine. Is he not the most handsome baby boy you have ever seen?” she asked the others.
Naomi beamed. “I would agree, but then I might be partial.”
Obed chose that moment to burp with gusto. Ruth giggled. “Pardon my son. I just finished feeding him.”
Amid smiles and nods of approval, one of the women said, “Blessed be the Lord, who has not left your side, Naomi.”
Naomi’s eyes filled with tears. “There was a time when I accused Him of turning His hand against me. Now I know He never left me. See for yourselves.” She gestured toward Ruth and the baby. “He has continued to bless me. He has not abandoned me.”
Sheba, Mahalath’s mother, proclaimed, “Praise the Lord who has now given you a redeemer, Naomi, for this sweet boy shall be as redeemer unto you and your family. Your son shall live through him. You will be remembered throughout the generations because of him. May his name be renowned in Israel.”
Another of the women, whose name Ruth did not know said, “May he restore your youth. May he care for you in your old age.”
Miriam added, “For Ruth, your daughter-in-law who loves you, has been better to you than seven sons. Better than a perfect family. And she has given birth to this winsome child. She has brought joy back into your life.”
Naomi’s face broke into a wide smile. Ruth lifted the baby toward her. “Here, Mother. He is happy now that his belly is full. Do you wish to hold him?”
Naomi took the baby in her arms and laid him on her lap. “He is such a delicious bundle.”
“Obed is the perfect name for this little one,” Miriam said. “We declare his name before all Israel this day, for he shall be a loyal servant of the Lord and worship Him faithfully.”
Sheba managed to squeeze her wide hips between Naomi and Miriam. “A son has been born to Naomi. Never shall you be lonely again.”
Naomi dandled her grandson on her knee. “Listen, now, little boy. Your mother was a barren woman who had never even set eyes on Judah. Your father was an honored man of Bethlehem with no plans ever to marry again. There were many obstacles against you being born. God must have really wanted you in this world. He went to a great deal of trouble to make sure that you lived. Never forget how important you are to Him.”
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
To proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor.
ISAIAH 61:1–2
Months passed and, to her distress, Ruth still did not regain her former vigor. Often, she contended with debilitating headaches that would last for hours. She had never experienced serious illness before, and the weakness of her body became a constant source of frustration in spite of her happiness. Naomi proved invaluable during those months, for Ruth could not manage the care of Obed alone. Naomi saw to him with tender love, as if she were nurturing her own son.
“What if I never get better?” she asked Boaz one night after he had extinguished all the lamps save one. They were already in bed, cocooned between the feather mattress and the quilted covers. Ruth clung to her side of the bed, too hesitant to draw near to Boaz. “What if I remain weak the rest of my life?”
“Then we shall cope, as we do now, beloved.”
“I shall be such a burden to you, Boaz.”
“Burden? May the Lord bless me with a hundred burdens if they are like you. How can you believe such falsehood?” He reached for her and pulled her against his chest, encircling his arm around her back to keep her from wriggling away. “It’s been hard on you, this illness. You tire easily, and even though you never say so, I know that you are often in pain.”
Ruth drew in a steadying breath. “Is that why you won’t touch me anymore?”
He went still against her. She could hear the thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear. “You need time to recover. If you think I have lost my desire for you, think again. I want you, more than ever. But I won’t risk your health. We will wait on God.”
Ruth tried to control the tears that spilled down her cheeks. They kept coming like Noah’s flood, with no sign of an end.
Boaz kissed her on the mouth. “Hush, beloved. You’ll make yourself sick. Why all this sorrow? Do you think I cannot wait?”
“I fear you’ll have to wait forever.”
“Then I will. As long as I have you and Obed, I can bear anything.”
Ruth remembered how God had once taught her the lesson of acceptance. Acceptance with joy. Did He want her to accept her sickness? To be joyful in spite of it? It seemed an impossible requirement.
In the ensuing weeks, she found herself battling anger. Why had God allowed this illness? Why had He intervened to save her, only to let her sink into pain and weakness? The Lord did not seem in the least interested in answering her questions. Her whys remained between them, a silent indictment in Ruth’s heart. As the rest of her family and friends returned to the normal routines of everyday life, Ruth had to contend with a shrunken world.
Naomi, who had had her own battle with the Lord, understood.
“Is this the life He wants me to have? This half existence?” Ruth cried one afternoon, after crawling into bed when what she wanted most was to go outside and play with Obed in the sunshine.
“I don’t know the answer to that question. But I have learned one thing. He has not abandoned you, Ruth. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. God may not always answer our questions, but He walks with us in the midst of them, lest we get lost in the wilderness of our minds. Invite the Lord into your pain. Invite Him to be your sufficiency in the midst of it. I promise, He will sustain you.”
“That isn’t enough, Naomi. I don’t want to be sustained! I want to be healed.”
Naomi gave a gentle laugh. “I understand. You want what you want, not what He is willing to give. It’s an awkward spot. In my experience, He usually wins. Try to remember, daughter, time does not work the same in the hands of the Lord as it would in ours. Sometimes, out of the delays of life, He calls forth a blessing.”
When Naomi left, Ruth decided to pray. Not only to beg and cajole the Lord into giving her the desire of her heart. This time, she prayed with her hands open, willing to let Him choose her destiny for her.
“Sustain me, Lord, through the best of life and the worst. Help me cling to You. Help me remember that although my flesh and my heart may fail, You are the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Carry me and rescue me even when I fight You. Overcome my struggles. Quiet me until I become like a weaned child with his mother.”
For the first time in months, Ruth experienced peace. Her storm-tossed thoughts grew still and she felt quieted.
The assurance, when it came, was inward, more a sense than words. And yet she knew that the Lord had spoken to her.
I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.
Not long after the anniversary of Obed’s first birthday, Ruth weaned him. It had been difficult to nurse him this long because of her sickness. She was sad that she could not nurse him as long as other women nursed their infants. But her milk had been decreasing, and she found herself weak after every feeding. Boaz and Naomi had both insisted that weaning Obed would be the best decision for her health.
As was common in Israel, they celebrated the occasion with a great feast. The morning of the festivities Ruth awoke without pain and weakness. Over the past year, she had on many occasions experienced short stretches of well-being, sometimes lasting several hours. Other than a flash of relief, she thought little of her reprieve that morning. She spent the day helping to prepare the food, joining Mahalath and Sheba and a few extra servants hired especially for the occasion as they made honey cakes and decorated large platters of dates and nuts. She crushed mint and garlic for the roasted lamb and spooned out Naomi’s pickled capers into the lentil stew boiling in a large pot.
By that evening when the guests began to arrive, Ruth had still not experienced even a twinge of pain. She felt as strong as in the old days. Too busy to think of the aberration, she changed into a green tunic, her narrow waist cinched in by a silver belt Boaz had given to her as a gift to celebrate Obed’s weaning. Mahalath twined her hair into bejeweled braids before rushing out to help with final preparations. Ruth had not had a chance to don her light veil when Boaz came in.
“You are so lovely,” he said, kissing the side of her neck.
