In the Field of Grace (37 page)

No one, not even Boaz, had the heart to mention that Ruth was not going to awaken. She had lost too much blood. He sat next to her, keeping vigil. He resisted sleep as if it were a deadly plague, hating to miss even a moment of these precious twilight hours with his wife.

Occasionally, they managed to pour a thin rivulet of milk and honey or broth down Ruth’s throat, keeping her nourished in her
unconsciousness. On the morning of the third day, Ruth stopped being able to swallow the food. Her pulse slowed to a thread and her breathing grew shallow. She slipped further away with every moment.

Death squatted at her door, waiting like a vulture, biding its time. Boaz could sense its presence—inexorable, hungry, patient.

I surrender her to You. I surrender her to You
. He meant the words. He had meant them weeks ago when he had whispered them after his wild ride. Except that surrender did not soothe the agony. He throbbed with the pain of her loss.

On the afternoon of the third day, during a rare moment when her room was empty of everyone save himself and the baby, Boaz cradled Obed and sat next to her on their bed. “Look at our son, Ruth. He is exquisite. He has your eyes, with the same reddish glint as yours in his hair.” The baby fussed and he rocked him, until the tired eyes drifted shut. “Oh, beloved. Don’t leave us,” he begged, knowing she could not hear. She was beyond words now.

“Saying goodbye, are you? Isn’t it somewhat premature?”

The harsh words shocked Boaz into looking up. Dinah stood before him, her feet planted apart, her mouth a straight line.

Boaz took a steadying breath. “Dinah. You have been good to us, moving your family here and nursing Obed. For the sake of that goodness, I will forget your outburst.”

“Forget nothing!” Dinah slashed a hand in the air before planting it on her hip. “You’ve given up on her. You’ve stopped fighting for her.”

With careful movements, Boaz stood and tucked the babe in his basket at the foot of the bed. “Not all of us can live in a dream world like you, Dinah.”

“Since when is hoping the same as dreaming?”

“Since what you hope for is impossible!”

“It was impossible for a Moabite widow to marry the most honored man in Bethlehem. But the Lord arranged for it. It was even more impossible that a barren woman should conceive. Didn’t the
Lord make that happen? Where is your faith, master Boaz?”

“The Lord Himself bid me to surrender Ruth. I have.”

Dinah threw both hands up in the air. “I think you are confused, my lord. Surrender is not the same as despair. Believe me. I had to learn that distinction after years of waiting upon Adin. Surrender means you accept God’s will, whatever He should choose. But you lean into hope. Into expectation. Not into discouragement. When God asks us to surrender, He only wants our full trust. His will is not that the worst should always come to pass. You have given up on hope. Do you think the Lord wanted your despair the day He demanded that you surrender Ruth?”

Boaz, who had been ready to strangle Dinah moments before, sank down on his knees, forgetting the torrent of his anger. Was she right? Was he supposed to battle for Ruth, all the way to the last moment of her time on earth? Battle for her life?

“This is cruel, Dinah. You want to awaken hope in me. How shall I survive the disappointment when that hope proves false? Look at her! You want me to anchor my soul into the expectation that my wife, who lies on that bed nearer death than life, will return to me whole and restored?”

“Better you should bear the burden of disappointment than give up too soon.” She moved, her steps firm with resolve, to lift up Obed in her arms. “Come, sweet boy. Come and snuggle with your mother. She loves you so much.”

Boaz watched as Dinah laid the baby carefully on Ruth’s chest and sat near her, vigilant lest the baby should dislodge. Dinah had not given up. She was fighting with all her might to keep Ruth fettered to this world.

He sank his face in his hands and wept. Dinah was right. He had given up too soon. As long as Ruth breathed, there remained a chance. Boaz began to pray as he had never prayed before.

Ruth heard the lusty cry of a baby from far away.

She had been dreaming of a parched, desert land. For longer than she could remember, she had walked the sand dunes alone. Exhaustion dogged her every step. In the distance she saw the shimmer of water, and as she drew nearer, the most dazzling garden she had ever seen appeared before her.

The sight restored a new vigor to her failing limbs and she began to run toward the garden. Roses hung from white arbors; lilies carpeted the ground in a hundred different shades. Their scent perfumed the air until Ruth felt almost drunk with it. Flowers she had never seen, colors she had never imagined, filled the landscape with delight. In the midst of blue-green grass, a pathway of gold wound into the depths of the garden, and rich jewels were strewn upon the ground as if they were as common as pebbles. She detected the shadow of men and women and children milling about. Though she could not see them clearly, something about them seemed familiar, as if they beckoned to her in friendship. She laughed, her heart overflowing with joy. She felt as if she had come home. She belonged in this place.

A roar, loud as the echo of a trumpet in a canyon, brought her to a halt. A man clothed in a long robe of dazzling white with a golden sash around His chest stood before her. His hair glowed like alabaster in the eerie light. White like wool, immaculate as fresh snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, piercing with intelligence and understanding. His face shone like the sun in full strength. He was beautiful and fearsome at once. Absolute glory shone round about Him. And He blocked her path and would not allow her to pass.

The garden beckoned with its perfect peace. A fierce desire to enter its gates overcame Ruth. Home called. Ruth took one step forward, braving the man’s displeasure, and lifted her foot to take another.

The man shook His head, His hair shimmering like jewels. She fell to her knees. When she dared to look at Him again, she was overcome by the depth of kindness she found in His gaze. Had she
thought Him terrifying? But He was not alarming at all. He was … He was love.

Fear not.
I have loved you with an everlasting love;

I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.

The words reverberated in Ruth’s mind, and though the man had not spoken, she knew it was His voice that echoed within her thoughts. His claim that made her skin tingle with joy.

Then Ruth heard the baby. For another moment she stared with wrenching longing at the man. She yearned to remain in the shadow of the incomprehensible love and immovable power that flowed out of Him like a river. She longed to enter the garden and find rest.

The cry came again, louder this time.

That’s my baby. That’s
my
baby.

The man stared with steady, unblinking eyes. She felt strength emanating from Him and saturating her own weakened limbs. She needed to go back now. The garden would have to wait.

I’m lost. I can’t find my way back.

The man opened His mouth and a sound like the roar of many waters emerged from it. Despite its unnerving quality, it was a strangely reassuring sound, power and comfort mingling together in its strains. Ruth felt assailed by a desperate need to throw her arms around His powerful body and bury her face in the golden sash.

Then the cry of the baby came again, helpless and plaintive. And a man’s voice, drenched in sorrow,
Come home to me, Ruth.

Boaz.

She gave one final, longing look at the man with the burning eyes, at the garden, and turned and ran back.

“My baby.” Her voice came out raw and cracked, but it was the voice of a woman living, not a dream. “Give me my baby.”

“Ruth!” Boaz sounded as if he had seen a ghost.

She tried to lick her dry lips. Her eyes were out of focus. She closed and opened them again until she could see more clearly. Boaz was bending over her, his mouth half open, his eyes red.

Something of his disbelief and pain penetrated the haze that still had a hold of her mind. She was only one part here in the world of men. Some of her still lingered behind in the land of the garden. The need to reassure Boaz drew her more fully to the present. “My love,” she said. “Don’t weep.”

Her plea backfired. He wept harder, wrenching sobs that moved his chest up and down in waves. “He brought you back to me. He brought you back.”

“The man sent me.”

“Who?”

Ruth shook her head. “The baby.”

“I’ll have him fetched. He’s fine. Dinah took him away to feed. He was fussing and crying and we thought the sound might disturb you.”

Jumping to his feet, Boaz wrestled the door open, banging his foot without noticing, and bellowed, “Dinah! She is awake! Dinah, bring Obed.”

He returned to her side. She had closed her eyes, too tired to hold them open. “Ruth, no! Don’t leave me again.” He shook her, his hands gripping her shoulders, his voice pleading.

She opened her eyes with a frown, not understanding his desperation. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

“Thank the Lord. Thank the Lord. I thought you had fallen into that dreadful sleep again.”

Ruth touched his cheek. He seemed as white as marble and just as cold. “How long did I sleep?”

“Four days. We were afraid … we were afraid we had lost you.”

It dawned on her why he seemed so desperate. The thought of his anguish dragged her into full wakefulness. “I’m sorry to cause you such worry. Oh no! Naomi must be beside herself.”

“I think she would have gone mad if not for the baby. He has kept all of us sane. We even admire his dirty diapers,” he babbled. “I better send for her too.”

He dragged the door open again and bellowed for Naomi.
Ruth’s eyes widened at his uncharacteristic lapse in manners. He ran back to her side. “Can’t believe you’re awake. It’s like a dream. You must be hungry and thirsty. I’ll send for food.” And the door crashed open again to accommodate another holler. Ruth laughed soundlessly. It made her ribs ache.

When next the door was pulled open, it wasn’t by Boaz. Dinah walked in, her brows drawn together. “What’s all the yelling about? Here is your son, master Boaz, as you asked. No need to … Oh Lord in heaven be praised. You are awake!”

Ruth held out her arms. “My son.”

D
inah laid the swaddled bundle in her arms. Ruth held on to him with puny arms, muscles shaking. Her boy. Her precious boy. She inhaled the sweet baby smell of him. He made a kitten sound and yawned, petal lips opening with abandon.

“He is so beautiful!”

“That he is,” Boaz said. “Let me lift you so you can be more comfortable.” With incredible care, he put his arm around her back and pulled her up. She could feel her lower belly spasm even with that gentle movement and winced. Boaz bolstered her with a few pillows and she breathed with relief. The baby rested against her chest as if it were the most comfortable place in the world.

“You’ve been nursing him?” she asked Dinah, without lifting her gaze away from Obed.

Dinah nodded. Ruth felt something wet land on her arm and, distracted, looked up. Tears ran the length of Dinah’s face. “He is a good eater. My daughter makes a huge fuss every time she eats. Not Obed. He eats like a champion.”

“Thank you for taking care of him.”

Naomi came into the room and stood frozen. “Ruth?”

“Mother! Don’t fret. I’ve recovered.”

Naomi stared, words failing her. She took a shaking breath that turned into a sob, a keening noise that shivered out of her throat.
The sob turned into a wail, a loud, endless cry of pain that had been trapped inside her since the start of Ruth’s illness.

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.