In the Field of Grace (7 page)

It was the first time he had visited his daughter’s home. Ruth resisted the urge to slam the door in his face. “He is too sick to work.”

Her father rolled his eyes. “It had to happen on
my
day.”

C
hilion died after battling the fever for five days. They laid him in the ground while still nursing his brother. Mahlon lasted a week.

Ruth reeled, stunned into a grief too deep for tears. In the span of one week, her world had shattered.

All I have left is an empty womb and a full grave.
She knew that was bitterness and grief talking, but right then, she didn’t have the strength to hold on to hope.

Naomi could not even help in the burial arrangements. She sat in a dark corner, staring at nothing, silent for endless days. It was as if grief had burned through her words, leaving behind ashes. Ruth and Orpah forced her to eat and drink enough to stay alive. But the woman they loved disappeared into the pit of her sorrow.

Dreams plagued Ruth. Beautiful dreams. Dreams of Mahlon alive and laughing, holding her, speaking to her. When she awakened from these false joys and remembered that her husband was under the earth, rotting, it made her mourning even more wrenching. His warm mouth would never whisper against her skin again. It made her want to scream until her voice, like all her dreams for children, died with Mahlon. Then she would remember Naomi and force herself to go on. Her mother-in-law needed her.

One morning Ruth awoke to find Naomi folded into herself on the ground, staring at nothing. In the course of mere weeks,
her vibrant face had creased with lines, shrunken and aged with incomprehensible grief. Ruth whispered her name, but she made no response, unaware of her daughter-in-law’s presence. Desperate with fear, Ruth shouted the older woman’s name. Would she lose this woman who had become her mother? She could not survive another such loss!

Out of desperation, she cried out to Naomi’s God.
Lord, help her! Help Your daughter Naomi.

The dark eyes blinked and came into focus. “Ruth?”

The younger woman dissolved into loud tears and held on to the only person who anchored her to the world of men and sanity. Naomi joined her tears to hers. She said no more, but she did not sink back into the pit that had almost taken her from the realm of the living.

After that, Ruth prayed to the Lord with increasing frequency. It wasn’t a calculated, well-examined decision. She gave it no thought. She made no conscious change of allegiance in her faith. She just clung blindly to the One who seemed to bring her a strange kind of relief.

On the sixth week after the burials, they started to run out of provisions, and the young women had to go into the fields to work. The owner of the field knew them because their husbands had labored for him many years. Out of pity, he hired them to work alongside his other female workers. He wanted to clear a new field for the next season of planting, and add irrigation canals, which would allow his land to get the most out of the seasonal rains. Laborious and unending, the work of removing stones, pulling out brush, and digging canals stretched their strength to its limit.

At the conclusion of their first day, when they returned home, they found that Naomi had roused herself to cook them barley stew. It was watery, lacking salt and the herbs that the older woman normally used with expertise. No bread accompanied the modest meal. But this tasteless stew came as an offering of love from a woman whose grief had paralyzed every impulse toward activity.
Ruth and Orpah ate their meal, knowing it had taken a valiant effort for their mother-in-law to rise above so much pain and perform the mundane tasks of every day.

“When Elimelech made us leave Bethlehem, it was to give us a better life,” Naomi said after they finished eating.

Ruth’s mouth opened slightly. It was the first time Naomi had spoken a full sentence since the loss of her two sons. She gave a nod of encouragement, hoping the older woman would continue.

“He came to Moab to save our lives. He came to protect us from starvation and death. And what has happened? My husband is dead. My sons are dead. And we stand on the brink of starvation, for how are three lonely women to make a way in this world? He brought us to Moab to save us. Instead, we have met our doom here.”

Ruth leaned forward and caressed Naomi’s arm. “We’ll take care of each other. You aren’t alone. You have Orpah and me.”

Naomi turned her face away and sank back into silence.

Ruth pondered her mother-in-law’s words. The irony of it cut like a sharpened scythe through heads of young wheat. The irony of a man who had made a hard decision in order to keep his family safe, only to lead them into death. Would they have lived safer lives if they had remained in Bethlehem?

For her part, Ruth could not regret Elimelech’s decision. If not for the man’s choice to abandon his home and his people, Ruth would not have met Naomi and her family. She would not have known the happiest years of her life, or experienced genuine love and acceptance.

Week followed week. Orpah and Ruth worked hard, but at the end of each day, they brought home barely enough to see them through the day. They needed more savings to provide for the approaching months between harvest and plowing, when there would be little opportunity for work. They used their meager spare time to plant their own garden with vegetables and herbs that would augment their table. Harvest season approached. Perhaps they would be able to increase their income then.

Naomi walked to the well to fetch water. With the girls gone most of the day, she had to force herself to do the urgent chores that could not be left undone. Most of the time, she wanted to remain on her pallet, buried under her cloak. She wanted to forget. What did food matter, or water? Her sons were gone. Why should she stay alive? But the Lord had left her to live while her children lay under the earth.

Ruth and Orpah were her only reason for living now. As the elder of the family, she was responsible for them. Sometimes she resented them for that unwanted responsibility. At other times, she clung to them not only for their own sakes but also because they were the only legacy left behind from her sons.

For the first time that morning, she noticed the fresh green leaves on the trees. It was as though she had slept through the waning winter months and missed the start of spring. Once home, she went through their stores and became aware that they would not survive long-term. Not with just two women working. She needed to join Ruth and Orpah in the field.

The next morning she rose and prepared herself before the young women were awake. Ruth came to a halt when she noticed her waiting by the door. “Naomi! Where are you going so early in the morning?”

Naomi took a calming breath. “I am coming with you to the field. You need my help.”

“You are most welcome,” Orpah, her practical daughter-in-law, said. “We can use an extra pair of hands.”

Ruth bit her lip. Although she made no objection, Naomi could sense her concern. As they walked to the farm, she lingered near Naomi, her long-legged steps moving with the grace she did not realize she possessed, her hand waving insects away from Naomi’s face.

In the field, Naomi worked alongside the girls. They had not
gone far when she felt a stitch in her side. Sweat dripped from her brow. She moved slower than the other workers and found it impossible to keep up.

“Come, Mother,” Ruth said. “Sit under the shade of this palm and rest. This is no work for you.”

At first, Naomi resisted Ruth’s pleas. Then she realized that she would collapse and be more trouble than help, and gave in. She felt useless. Why did God leave her on this earth? She was of no benefit to anyone, more bother than blessing.

By midday, the other workers joined her. Some had brought a modest repast, which they enjoyed while speaking to one another companionably.

“I beg your pardon,” Naomi whispered as she knocked against someone’s arm by accident.

A portly woman with carefully plucked eyebrows turned to her. “You are Mahlon and Chilion’s mother, aren’t you? I heard of their deaths. I am sorry.”

Naomi nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Will you go back to Bethlehem now that they expect such a rich harvest?”

“Do they? I had not heard.”

“My cousin traveled through there last week. He said Bethlehem is enjoying unusual abundance this year. Grain is bursting out of the ground like weed. He walked through field after field of maturing barley and wheat. Better than anything he has ever seen in Moab, he said.”

Naomi frowned. “The Lord must have visited His people,” she said under her breath.

With sudden clarity, an image of Bethlehem came to her, the city peaceful when the dew descended, people preparing somnolently to go to work. She remembered the sound of prayer in the assembly, the smell of roasted grain picked fresh from the fields, the feel of friends’ arms wrapped about her as they laughed at the day’s absurdities. She remembered feeling at home. Feeling safe.

For the first time since losing her sons, something like a shaft of longing pierced her heart.

Ruth shook the mat before wiping it with a wet cloth. She was returning it to the chamber when Naomi said, “I think we should return to Bethlehem.”

Ruth stumbled. “Pardon?”

“The Lord has blessed Judah with an abundant harvest. Why linger in Moab? Perhaps in Bethlehem He will see us through the winter. We leased this house and its land; it doesn’t belong to our family. We can walk away and go back to my home.”

Ruth sank to the floor. Her mouth turned so dry she could not swallow. Leave Moab. Abandon the only place she had ever known and go to Judah where she was an unwelcome stranger. The Israelites were not fond of Moabites, and Moabite women had a terrible reputation among them. Other than Naomi and Orpah, she would probably find herself ostracized.

“Whatever you wish, Naomi. We’ll go to Judah.” She forced her tongue to form the words for Naomi’s sake.

Orpah, who had been a silent witness to the exchange, threw Ruth a horrified glance. Ruth gave her a reassuring nod. She could think of nothing to say that might bring her sister-in-law a measure of comfort.