Unshaken_Ruth Page 2

  Like the approach of locusts ready to feast upon her faith, the silence hummed inside her head. She pressed her hands over her ears and clenched her teeth. Why was the night like this? Sometimes the darkness was so still she could hear her own blood rushing through her veins. The sound was like a heavy rain washing open the doors of her mind, flooding her with memories she wanted to forget.

  The room echoed with her dead husband’s voice. “We’re going to Moab whether you like it or not, Naomi! There’s no famine there.”

  “But, Elimelech, we mustn’t leave Bethlehem! It’s our home.”

  “Our home is turning to dust!”

  “If we trust and obey God, He will provide.”

  “Are you blind? Look around you, woman. God has abandoned us!”

  “Because you and others bow down to baals!”

  “I bow down to Baal because he’s the lord of this land!”

  “Moses told our fathers the Lord is God and there is no other!”

  “And what good has God done for us lately?” Elimelech argued. “How long since rain last fell on our land? When was the last time our crops produced even a little more than what we need to fill our own stomachs?”

  “But you are saying it yourself, my husband. The Lord has provided what we need to survive.”

  “I’m sick of hearing you say that! I’m the one taking care of us, Naomi. I’m the one working my flesh to the bones on this rocky ground and watching my crops die! Don’t tell me God is taking care of us! Look at my hands! Look at the calluses and tell me it’s God who takes care of you and our sons. God stands far off and watches while everything I own turns to dust. He’s abandoned us! You’re just a woman. What do you understand of these things? I’ll do what’s right in my own eyes.”

  That same day, Elimelech had mortgaged the land he’d inherited from his father. He’d come home, packed their possessions on two donkeys, and taken Naomi and their sons, Mahlon and Kilion, away from Bethlehem. She’d barely had time to bid good-bye to her friends and few remaining family members. Elimelech had been so certain he was making the right decision! What man wanted to hear the constant dripping of a nagging wife? So she did what she felt she could do: she kept silent with her doubts and she prayed.

  She prayed in the morning when she first awakened. She prayed throughout the day as she worked. And she prayed when she lay down upon her pallet at night. She prayed and prayed and prayed—and watched her life turn to ashes.

  Elimelech found work in Moab at Kir-hareseth. He cut off his locks of hair, shaved off his beard, and donned Moabite clothing to make his way easier. There were other Israelites sojourning in Moab and living in Kir-hareseth. They, too, had come to wait out the famine in the Promised Land, and they, too, quickly embraced the ways of the people around them and forgot the Law of Moses and the promises of God.

  It was summer when Elimelech died.

  “I just need to rest.” He’d come home complaining of pain in his chest. “I’ll be fine in the morning.” He’d sat right where she was sitting now, rubbing his arm, up and down, up and down, grimacing. “Naomi?” The strange catch in his throat had brought her to her knees before him.

  “What, my love?” She took his hand and covered it with her own, wanting to comfort him.

  “Naomi,” he said again, the sweat beading on his forehead. He’d looked terrified. “I only did what I thought was right.” His lips were blue. She’d wanted to comfort him. She’d held him in her arms and tried to soothe him. But nothing had helped ease his torment.

  Even now, after fifteen years, the grief rose up in her again, renewed by Mahlon’s untimely death, just as her grief had been renewed and deepened last year when Kilion died. There was no escaping the pain, no hiding from it, no pushing it down deep inside her anymore. She remembered everything so acutely, especially her unanswered prayers. She’d prayed so hard that God wouldn’t take her husband from her, prayed that God would have mercy upon him, and kept praying even as she watched the light ebb from Elimelech’s eyes. Then she prayed for mercy and saw death take him.

  Her sons had buried their father among Moabites. At first, she could scarcely believe Elimelech was gone. She kept thinking she would awaken from this nightmare and he would be there, complaining as always. When full realization had sunk in that she would never see him again, she had become angry with him. But that, too, passed. She had been too busy helping her sons put food on the table.

  It had been fifteen years since Elimelech died, and still the grief would rise up unexpectedly. It was never as sharp as those first weeks, but it never fully dulled. She had thought the pain of losing her husband was the greatest of all, but that was before she had lost sons. Now, she was drowning in a sea of sorrow.

  She couldn’t even pray anymore. She had always had a glimmer of hope and a sense of God’s presence. Now she felt God was beyond reach, His mercy not meant for her. All her prayers were like smoke blown away by an angry wind. Every one of them. Perhaps Elimelech had been right after all. God was standing far off, watching her suffer.

  God, where are You? How do I find You?

  She wanted to defend herself against His judgment. Hadn’t she pleaded with her husband to stay in Bethlehem? Hadn’t she begged him to trust in God? Hadn’t she prayed that God would change Elimelech’s mind and they would go home? Hadn’t she wanted to return to Bethlehem when Elimelech died? When God had taken Elimelech, hadn’t she tried desperately to convince her sons that they should go back to the land God had promised them? But Mahlon and Kilion had been old enough by then to decide for themselves.

  “What is there for us, Mother? This is our home.”

  Their hearts had been turned away from God and the Promised Land years ago. Their home in Bethlehem was nothing more than a bad memory to them, a place of hardship and heartache. Their father had never said a good word about it. Why should her sons want to return? They knew little of Hebrew customs and laws, for Elimelech had neglected his duties. He’d never taught his sons the history of the Israelites, the Law of Moses, the way of righteousness. Her sons had watched how Elimelech lived and done as he had done. When their father died, they listened to the elders of Kir-hareseth. They listened to the priests of Chemosh. They listened to their own desires and thoughts and did as they pleased, even unto taking Moabite wives for themselves. Oh, the grief her sons had caused her!

  Nothing she had said to them had mattered. They loved her, but she was just a woman. What did she know? So they said. So they’d been taught to believe by their father before them.

  Naomi looked at her daughters-in-law sleeping nearby. How strange that they were her only consolation now, these young women she’d grieved over when first she heard about them. Foreign wives! The shame of Israel! Oh, how she had despaired. Yet she’d managed to put on a smiling face when Mahlon brought Ruth home, and Kilion brought Orpah. What else could she do? She could not bring herself to risk losing the love of her sons. And she’d hoped to have some small influence upon their young wives.

  Now they were widows like her, and as dear to her as if they had come from her own womb. Nothing brings people closer together than shared suffering. She remembered in the beginning, she had accepted them and tried to build a relationship with each of them in order to keep peace in her house. And secretly, she’d prayed that Ruth’s and Orpah’s hearts would be softened toward the God of Israel. If she could teach them about the Lord, perhaps there would be hope for the next generation. But now her last hope for the future was lost.

  A sudden fever had taken Kilion last spring. Then a lingering illness had brought Mahlon down. Kilion had died in the space of a few days, suffering little discomfort, but poor Mahlon had received no such mercy. When he fell ill, the suffering went on and on. She could do nothing but watch her eldest son, the firstfruit of Elimelech, be eaten alive by disease. She’d prayed countless times for God to ease his suffering, for God to put all the sins of her husband and sons upon her, but the days wore on and on. Poor Ruth, poor
faithful, loving Ruth. How many nights had the girl sought to ease Mahlon’s pain and ended up weeping over her helplessness? Sometimes Naomi wished she could escape the city and run out into the fields and scream and tear her hair and throw dust over herself. She had wept when Mahlon looked up at her with the eyes of a wounded animal in agony, hounded by terror.

  Her own grief had almost consumed her during those long, terrible months, but she had spoken to Mahlon often and gently of the mercy of the Lord. Mercy! her heart had cried within her. Mercy! Lord God, mercy! While Ruth had ministered to her husband’s physical needs, Naomi sat by and told him about the signs and wonders God had per-formed in Egypt and in the wilderness, and in the land of Canaan. He couldn’t resist her now, but was he ready to repent and seek the Lord? She told Mahlon how God had delivered the Israelites from Egypt, not because they deserved it, but because He had chosen them to be His people. She told him about Moses and the Law and how the people were stubborn like Elimelech and rebelled. She told him about the blessings and the cursings. And she told him about the promises. When he slept, she bowed her head and prayed. Oh, Lord, Lord . . . she couldn’t find the words. Oh, Lord, search my heart. . . . She prayed and prayed and prayed.

  And still Mahlon had died.

  Ruth had been sitting with him and holding his hand when he died. She let out a long, anguished cry when he stopped breathing, then wailed and covered her head.

  Had it been only twenty-two days ago?

  Orpah had tried to comfort her and Ruth by saying Mahlon would be at peace now; his pain was over. Naomi wanted to believe these words, but they seemed hollow, without foundation. What did Orpah know of God?

  Naomi’s sorrow was so deep that she felt paralyzed by it. All she could do was wait for the sun to rise so she could go on sitting in this dusty, dank corner and listening to the rush of people going past her door. How dare life go on as it always had, when her sons were dead! She resented the laughter of neighbors outside her door. She was embittered by the changeless activity. Were her loved ones so unimportant they might have been mere grains of sand cast into the Dead Sea, leaving hardly a ripple? Only Orpah and Ruth shared her anguish.

  Naomi hated Moab and Kir-hareseth more with each day that passed. She hated these foreign people. And she hated herself for hating them. It wasn’t their fault Elimelech, Kilion, and Mahlon had taken up ways displeasing to God. Men decide their own path, but it is God who judges, God who prevails.

  The sun rose, and Naomi wished she could close her eyes and die. Instead, she found herself alive and aware of what was going on around her. She could hear Orpah and Ruth weeping together and talking in soft voices so they wouldn’t disturb her. She ate when they asked her to do so and lay down when they pleaded with her to rest. But she felt lost and angry and hopeless and afraid.

  She wallowed in memories, thinking back over the early years of marriage with Elimelech. Oh, how they’d laughed together and dreamed of a fine future brought by hard work and dedication to the land. Naomi, his merry one, he’d called her. She remembered the joy when she found she was with child, the anticipation, the celebration when a son was born—first one, then another. She had sustained them with her body, nursing them until they were able to walk. She had rejoiced in their childish exuberance, laughed at their antics, relished their presence. Life had been full then. She’d felt God’s presence in every blessing.

  What do I have now? Nothing! I will never know joy again.

  Things had been bad in Bethlehem, but everything got worse when they left. She’d tried—and failed—to have influence over Elimelech. She had wanted to raise her sons in the ways of the Lord, but Elimelech felt the Laws of Moses were too rigid, too intolerant. “Our way is not the only way, Naomi. Look around you and see how the Moabites prosper. Those in Bethlehem are still reduced to scraping out a living from the earth.” In her heart, she’d known Elimelech was rejecting God, but she could never find the words to convince him he must turn back.

  Is that why I’m being punished? Should I have been more determined in reasoning with Elimelech? Should I have gone to the elders for help instead of being too ashamed to admit what was happening in my home? Should I have gone to his brothers? I should have found someone he respected who might have been able to dissuade him from leaving the land God gave us! Perhaps if I’d refused to leave Bethlehem, everything would have turned out differently. Perhaps if we’d stayed, my husband and sons would still be alive.

  How she tormented herself wondering if she could have done things differently, worrying that she had failed those she loved so much.

  Oh, why didn’t I teach Kilion and Mahlon the importance of the Law? I should have been a better mother. I should have made them sit down and listen. I should have worried less about losing their love and more about losing their souls. And now I’ve lost them forever. I’ve lost my sons . . . oh, my sons, my sons . . .

  She didn’t speak the words aloud, but she was scourged with self-recriminations day after day and night after night.

  Father, forgive me. I was weak. I was foolish. I took the easy way and followed Elimelech because I wanted peace in our family. I didn’t want to be a contentious wife. I wanted to support him in his endeavors. I wanted to be his helpmate. But You warned us of the cursings to come if we were unfaithful. Oh, Father, I wanted to be faithful. I tried to be faithful. Every day, I felt torn, my husband on one side and You on the other. I didn’t know what else to do but pray in silence and hope in secret and walk alongside Elimelech and then my sons. I hoped and prayed every day they would come to their senses and we’d go home to the land You gave us. Oh, God, I’ve prayed and prayed all these years, and not one prayer has been answered. My husband is dead. My sons are dead! You have stripped me bare! You have poured me out! Who is left but You, Father? What do I have to cling to now but You?

  She rocked back and forth, moaning.

  Ruth rose and put her arms around her. “Mother, I’ll take care of you.” The girl’s tenderness broke Naomi’s heart. She wept in her daughter-in-law’s arms, allowing herself to be held and rocked like a baby. But it was no comfort, for other thoughts rushed into her tortured mind and made her cry all the harder.

  There would be no children to carry on the names of her sons. It would be as though they never lived at all. Their names will go down into the dust along with them. No children . . . there will be no children. . . .

  Seventy days passed before Naomi went outside the door of her small house. The sunlight hurt her eyes. She was weak from grieving, having wept enough tears to fill a cistern, and it was time to stop. Crying would not bring the dead back to life. She must think of the living. Ruth and Orpah were young women, too young to spend the rest of their lives mourning over Mahlon and Kilion, or taking care of an old woman whose life was over.

  She sat on the stool outside her door and watched someone else’s children. They raced down the street, their laughter echoing back as they rounded a corner. Children were life, and hers were no more. But there was still a chance for her daughters-in-law, if she did what she knew she must.

  If she remained in Kir-hareseth, Ruth and Orpah would continue to live with her. They would spend their youth looking after the mother of their dead husbands. How could she allow these sweet girls to waste their lives on her? She loved them too much to continue to see them begging for a handful of grain from strangers or living off charity from friends and relatives. But if she left Kir-hareseth and Moab, her daughters-in-law could return to their families, who would welcome them. Naomi had no doubt their fathers would find husbands for them quickly, for they were young and beautiful. Then Ruth and Orpah would have the joy of children. Naomi wanted that for them more than anything.

  As for her, she wanted to go home to Bethlehem. She didn’t know if any of her relatives or friends remained there or had survived the famine, but she had heard that the famine had finally ended. Perhaps the Midianite raids had also come to an end. Even so, what did it matter? She longed to go home
, and she was willing to accept whatever she found when she reached Bethlehem. If she must be reduced to spending her last years as a beggar, so be it. At least she would feel the Promised Land beneath her feet again. At least she would be where others worshiped God as she did.

  Oh, Lord, make it be so. Bring me safely home before I die. Oh, Father, have mercy on me, for I’m alone and in deep distress. My problems go from bad to worse. And I want to do what’s right in Your eyes. Help me!

  Neighbors greeted her as they passed by. She smiled and nodded her head while her mind raced on. Why am I sitting here? Am I waiting for God to speak to me audibly as He did to Moses? Who am I that God would speak in such a manner? Do I expect Him to write a letter to me on that wall over there telling me what to do? I know what I must do! I will repent and return to my homeland.

  Naomi put her hands on her knees and pushed herself up. Lowering her shawl to her shoulders, she went back into her house. Ruth was kneeling, flattening bread dough and laying it over the metal stove, while Orpah was mending a garment. Both young women glanced up and smiled at her. She paused, gazing between them, trying to find words to explain, and failing. She turned away and began gathering her few things.

  Ruth rose. “What are you doing, Mother?”

  “I’m packing.”

  “Packing?” Orpah said. “But where are you going?”

  “I’m going home.”

  Naomi had known that Ruth and Orpah would insist on accompanying her to Bethlehem. Impetuous youth. She didn’t argue with them; she knew they would soon understand the immensity of leaving Moab and their families behind. She was sure they would be ready to go home again by the time they reached the Arnon River. It would be far easier to dissuade them at the boundary of their country than to waste her breath arguing with them now. She would enjoy their company awhile longer and then send them home. She didn’t want to ponder the fact that she would never see them again after they left her. She would never forget them, and she would pray for them every day for as long as she lived.