Redeeming Grace: Ruth's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “What will you do, my brother?” Naomi asked, knowing he warred with his own decision.

  He did not speak for many moments, but his gaze remained fixed on the hall. And then Hamul emerged from it carrying the squalling, swaddled bundle in his arms. He approached his father, and Naomi stepped back.

  “I have come to seek your blessing for my daughter, Father. Will you honor us with your blessing?” He held the child toward Melek, who stood unmoving, arms at his sides.

  Hamul waited, tension mounting in the room, as Melek seemed caught in indecision. Naomi fought the urge to grab the child and thrust her into Melek’s arms, like it or not, but she knew the action would not help. She bit back the words she longed to say to force him, to make him see.

  But only God could make him see. Only You, Adonai. Will You give this child a true home as You have done for my Ruth?

  She waited, wondering if the Almighty even concerned Himself with such prayers of an exhausted old woman who needed to go home and tend to her own family.

  But as the child’s cries quieted, Melek tilted his head slightly to gaze into her face. The child turned her head toward Melek, and if Naomi didn’t know better, she almost thought she saw a smile dimple those infant cheeks.

  Melek’s arms rose slowly, accepting the child from his son’s arms. The infant’s mouth moved as if looking for sustenance, and Melek chuckled as he held her to his chest. He looked at his son. “You are a better man than I am, my son, for I would have shunned your wife and her child if you had not shown me a better way.” He looked down at the child, touched a finger to her cheek.

  Naomi’s heart squeezed tight and tears threatened.

  “And you, little one,” he said softly, “may you be blessed of Adonai. May you be wise in the ways of our God and be a blessing to your father’s house.” He stopped, and she saw the emotion in his expression. How hard it must be for him to set aside his pride, to embrace what was not truly his.

  Naomi stepped closer to him, touched his arm. “You have done the right thing,” she said, meeting his gaze. They both glanced down at the baby and smiled. “She’s beautiful, Melek. One day you will have too many young men seeking her affection, and you will have many more problems to deal with.”

  Melek laughed softly. “If they dare come too close, they will deal with me.” He looked at his son, whose gaze held a mixture of awe and gratitude.

  “Thank you, Father.” He took the babe from Melek. “She needs to eat.” He turned to take her back to Hava.

  “What name has Hava given her?” Melek asked, stopping Hamul’s gait.

  “Geula,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Redemption,” Naomi said, meeting Melek’s gaze. Exactly what Boaz had done for Ruth, what Melek had refused but now accepted in this child.

  “Yes, redemption.” Melek spoke as though to himself, as though the very thought was something new to him. Perhaps it was.

  44

  Seven Months Later

  Boaz tapped his foot and watched as his workers neared the end of harvesting the wheat in this section of Elimelech’s field. He probably should have taken a sickle and helped them, but moving from field to field to keep things in order and threshing the wheat at night were becoming harder with the passing of time, though he would never admit it to anyone. Least of all his overseer, who smiled broadly as he approached.

  “I had hoped to finish today,” he said when Ezra stood next to him.

  “The field produced more than we expected.” Ezra lifted a brow. “Our God has blessed what was once lost and fallow.”

  Boaz gave Ezra’s words a moment to sink in. “He is the God of renewal, my friend.”

  “And resurrection.” Ezra moved his hands in an arc from the ground to the sky as if trying to express resurrection. They’d discussed the topic many times since that day over a year ago—when Boaz had been too grieved to hope or think clearly. But somehow Ruth and Adonai had turned his life completely around, and he was fairly certain his servants, particularly Ezra, were glad of it.

  “Do you want to wait until they finish the work, or go home to your wife? She is due any day now, is she not?”

  Boaz nodded.

  “I can stay until the men leave.” Ezra gave him a knowing look.

  “How can you tell this is exactly my desire?” Boaz smiled. Did his expressions show so easily what his heart was feeling? And yet, Ezra knew him well.

  “You tap your foot when you grow impatient. Or stroke your beard when you’re trying to decide what to say.” Ezra shrugged. “Go home. Enjoy time with Ruth before that babe comes and keeps you up at night and you turn back into a bear of a man.”

  Boaz gave him an affronted look. “I was never a bear.”

  Ezra huffed. “You should have looked in a mirror.”

  Boaz rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the smile, and soon both men chuckled. “I was a beast last year at this time, wasn’t I?”

  Ezra bobbed his head. “A beast. A lion. A bear. Take your pick.”

  Boaz shook his head. “I don’t know how I put up with you.” He patted his friend’s arm. “I will see you tomorrow.”

  Ezra waved as Boaz mounted his donkey and rode toward Bethlehem, urging the animal into a faster trot the closer he came. He jumped down and hurried inside the moment he reached the outer court.

  “You are home.” Ruth trundled toward him, swaying with the weight of the child. She placed a hand to her back as though it pained her.

  “I wanted to spend time with you.” He looked her up and down. “All is well?” The ever-present fear, the memories of loss, would not leave.

  She nodded and smiled. “Just some slight pain in my lower back. The babe is active today.” She held out a hand to him. “Come and see.”

  He followed her into the sitting room and sat gently beside her. She took his hand and placed it where the babe lay.

  He was rewarded with a swift kick. He laughed. “You are right. He moves like his father, who nearly forced the donkey to race the wind the whole way home.” He kissed her softly. “Though I am certain he will have the kindness of his mother.”

  She blushed sweetly beneath his praise, and he loved seeing the shyness creep into her eyes. “He will be blessed to call you Father.”

  Though they both knew the boy would carry Mahlon’s name, her kindness warmed him. “And what if he is a she?”

  “Then she will be blessed to call you Abba.” She laughed, and the sound of it carried the music of song. She took his hand. “But I am afraid I cannot sit for long, so help me up and let us walk through the house.”

  He stood and bowed to her. “Yes, my lady.”

  She playfully patted his arm, and he easily lifted her to her feet. Even nine months with child she was still light, though not as frail as Adi had been.

  Adi. How strange it seemed to him that the memory of his beloved no longer brought pain, only longing to one day see her again and introduce her to Ruth . . . if resurrection was anything like he imagined it to be. Somehow he sensed that Adi would be pleased with Ruth, that they would have been friends. And though she might not have chosen to leave this world when she did, if she could see him, he sensed that she would be glad for his choice.

  Adonai’s choice, he corrected, for he had been too timid to make it himself. Yet God had not allowed him to wallow in his pain.

  He took Ruth’s hand and tucked it beneath his arm, grateful and a little in awe of what God had done in his heart. They walked through the rooms he had shown her that first week of their marriage.

  “Does walking ease the pain in your back?”

  She nodded, paused a moment to catch her breath, then released it.

  After she had repeated that action several times, he turned her to face him. “Are you in the beginnings of labor, my love?”

  She nodded again. “I think so. That is, I have never been in this situation before, but Naomi tells me that this is how it begins.”

  He glanced around before searc
hing her gaze once more. “Where is Naomi? Should I get her?”

  Ruth shook her head. “She is resting, and I am in no danger of giving birth where I stand.” She smiled at him. “It helps to walk.”

  He took her arm again, wanting to believe her. But his heart beat faster with knowing how soon his whole life could change—again.

  “Are you afraid, my lord?” They turned toward the inner courtyard where the sun baked the sides of the roof. The stones were hot, and the oven used for baking bread remained warm, even though the fire had been snuffed out long ago.

  He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close to his side. “I dream sometimes,” he admitted, not looking at her. “I see my son wrapped in the burial shrouds, and I awake with a jolt, begging God not to let it happen again.” His heart thudded so hard he was certain she could hear it in his chest.

  “This time will be different,” she said softly, stroking the hairs on his arm. “Remember, my lord, that I have also lost those I’ve loved. And yet God has put me here, with you.” She touched his cheek, turning his face to meet her gaze. “Nothing is going to go wrong. Believe, beloved.”

  Her smile was his undoing. A woman younger than he, who was once a foreigner to his people, was now telling him, a leader in Israel, to believe?

  And she had called him beloved.

  He cupped her face and bent low, kissing her. “You are most blessed of women, my Ruth, my wife, my most beloved.” With each kiss, his heart soared that she looked at him with love he had never expected to know again in this life.

  The babe kicked between them.

  “Already I have competition for your love.” He laughed.

  “Never competition,” she said, laughing with him. “An addition to the blessings.”

  The Next Day

  Ruth tossed and turned most of the night, praying she would not awaken Boaz, who seemed to be at last sleeping peacefully. The pains that had been minor the day before had increased steadily throughout the night, and before dawn she felt the gush of waters break as she made her way to Naomi’s room.

  “Mother,” she called from the doorway.

  Naomi jarred awake, as though she slept on the edge of waiting, and jumped up like a young gazelle despite her aging bones. “Is it time?”

  Naomi’s scrutinizing look told her the woman would know without a word from her, but Ruth nodded regardless. “My waters just spilled out as I was coming to you. The pains are frequent.” She paused on the last word as another contraction seized her. She forced herself not to double over but clenched her middle instead.

  Naomi rushed from the room, grabbing towels and a basin and Ruth’s arm. “Come.” She led Ruth to the room they had set aside for the birthing and settled her among the cushions. “I will check you as soon as I send for help.”

  She hurried off as Ruth battled another contraction. Servants’ voices filtered to her, and lamps were lit. Moments later, Boaz stood wide-eyed at the entrance to the birthing chamber, while Naomi continued to bark orders in the distance.

  He came and knelt at her side. “It is time?”

  She nodded, gritting her teeth, unable to speak.

  “Should I leave?”

  She shook her head. “No. Don’t go far.” She knew he would be happier roaming the hills than hearing her screams, but she also knew he needed to be near, to know she was going to be fine.

  Please, Adonai, let all go well.

  Naomi burst into the room and stopped short at the sight of him. “The birthing room is no place for a man, my son. Perhaps go with Reuven and inspect the warehouse for a time. In any case, I need to see how far along she has come.”

  He stood, and Ruth sensed his uncertainty, his embarrassment. It wasn’t a place for men, and yet, had he not been there in the beginning? But he nodded at Naomi and left with only a longing glance Ruth’s way.

  “Lie back on the cushions and let me see how soon you will need the birthing stool.” Naomi’s crusty tone told Ruth of the excitement and fear living just beneath the surface. Was not every birth a miracle? And yet every birth involved great risk to the mother.

  “Oh my,” Naomi said after Ruth complied with her wishes. “The babe is nearly ready to come down. He hasn’t crowned just yet, but it will not be long, my daughter.”

  Ruth breathed in and out, hoping the words were true. Another contraction assaulted her as the noise of servants and the bustle of the women Naomi had sent for descended on Boaz’s home.

  “How is she? Is the water warmed? Where are the swaddling cloths?” Gilah’s questions came quickly, keeping pace with Ruth’s racing heart.

  “Everything is here, of course.” Naomi sounded almost terse, if Ruth judged correctly, but this was a woman’s world and Naomi was in her element. When Orpah had given birth, Naomi was not favored to be the main woman at her side, for she had wanted her mother, who took charge the moment she stepped into Naomi’s house. But this time Naomi was in charge, and she did not mind letting the other women know it.

  Neta checked the water and the fire that warmed it, and Liora fluffed the sheet and pillows where Ruth would nurse the child once he or she was born.

  “Water,” Ruth said, her voice squeaky from disuse, from holding back the urge to cry out.

  Naomi shook her head. “A few sips, my daughter. You should not drink a lot of water during birth.” She took the cup and held it slowly to Ruth’s parched lips. And pulled it away too soon. But Ruth did not complain, for to do so would do no good.

  Another contraction followed, until they were coming in quick succession. Naomi checked her twice more, until at last she declared her fit for the stool.

  Neta dragged it from the corner while Gilah stood behind Ruth, holding her up. Liora knelt near Naomi, ready to take the child once Naomi caught him or her on her knees.

  “What names have you thought of?” Liora asked, clearly trying to distract Ruth from the pain, but she could not speak past the groaning.

  “Never mind that now.” Naomi’s tone halted all conversation. “She is trying to concentrate. Do not distract her.”

  The sound of footsteps in the hall made her turn to see Boaz standing at the threshold, his face a mask of misery. But somehow his presence there gave her strength. She bore down, once, twice, until at last the child rushed from her in a wash of blood and water and landed in Naomi’s outstretched arms.

  “A boy!” came the jubilant cry of all the women.

  “Ruth, you have a son!” Naomi beamed, her countenance bright like morning’s dawn.

  “A son,” Ruth said through one final contraction to complete the birthing. Exhaustion filled her as she glanced toward the threshold. Boaz still stood there, his gaze sweeping the room and resting on his son. Their son.

  Ruth smiled at him even as Naomi waved him away. “No place for a man,” she muttered. “We must clean the babe and you. Then he can see you both.”

  She handed the child to Liora, who with Neta’s help cleaned and wrapped him. Naomi and Gilah tended to Ruth, helping her out of the sweaty tunic and sponging water over her exhausted body. She would be unclean for seven days, Naomi had told her, and then must stay away from holy things for thirty-three days after the birth of a boy. A time for bonding with her son, a time to rest. It seemed that the God of Israel, her God, even cared for a woman in childbirth and made provisions for her to rest from her labor before taking on every task and duty she normally performed.

  “There,” Naomi said, tucking the babe into her arms at last.

  Ruth looked into her mother-in-law’s wistful eyes and smiled. “Do you want to hold him longer, Mother?” She handed the child to Naomi. The child who would carry on the line of Naomi’s son.

  Naomi took the boy and sat beside Ruth, holding him close to her heart. In that moment Boaz returned to the room, apparently unable to stay away, and stopped near Naomi’s side.

  “Blessed be the Lord,” Gilah said to Naomi, “who has not left you this day without a redeemer, and may his name be ren
owned in Israel!”

  “He shall be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age,” Neta agreed, “for your daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven sons, has given birth to him.”

  Ruth looked at her mother-in-law holding her son, and despite the longing to hold him she waited a moment longer and smiled. “You shall be his nurse, Mother.”

  Tears filled Naomi’s eyes as she looked from Ruth to Boaz.

  “A son has been born to Naomi,” the women in the room all said at once.

  “He is the servant of the Lord,” Gilah said.

  “And a worshiper of Yahweh.” Liora spoke with such conviction all eyes turned to her. “He is Obed, for he has been born to redeem this family.”

  “And all Israel,” Boaz said softly.

  Ruth looked at him, her brows lifted as she took Obed from Naomi’s arms and helped him find her breast. “All Israel, my lord?” He was just a child. A servant, perhaps. A worshiper—she hoped so. But a redeemer of Israel?

  “Someday,” Boaz said, looking into her eyes, letting his gaze drift down to the beauty of his son, “he will be in the line of the true Redeemer. For he comes from the line of kings, as I come from the line of Judah. Jacob blessed Judah, saying that kings would come from his descendants.” He knelt beside her. “You, beloved, are the mother of kings to come.”

  Of kings? The thought was too unimaginable, too far away to matter, as she nestled her new son against her breast, her heart full. She smiled. Not because of the promise, but because at last Adonai her God and Boaz her beloved had made her a mother.

  Epilogue

  Judah, your brothers shall praise you;

  your hand shall be on the neck of your enemies;

  your father’s sons shall bow down before you.

  Judah is a lion’s cub;