Unshaken (3 page)

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.

As they prepared to leave the house, Naomi wondered if they would even make it down the hill with all the things Orpah had decided to bring. The poor girl. She couldn’t bear to leave anything behind. She was loaded down with everything she had accumulated during her marriage to Kilion, including a small stool. Orpah moaned in distress. “Oh, I wish we could bring the table and rug . . .”

Ruth, on the other hand, had only a pack full of colorful sashes she’d made, a skin of water, and enough grain and raisin cakes to last for several days. “Where are the rest of your things, Ruth?” Naomi asked her.

“I have all I need. Let me carry the cooking pan, Mother. It’s too heavy for you. We’ll travel farther today if I carry it.”

Naomi had spoken to the family next door, telling them Orpah and Ruth would be returning in a day or two. She wanted to be sure no one bothered what was left in the house. When the young women returned to Kir-hareseth, they could sell everything, including the house, and split whatever came of it. Naomi didn’t care about any of the belongings she was leaving behind. She preferred the plain things of her people to the finery of the Moabites, Philistines, and Egyptians. It was Elimelech who had placed such importance on the gifts he gave her, and they would be out of place in Bethlehem.

She suspected that Ruth would give everything to Orpah. Dear Ruth—she had such a generous heart, not to mention a wealthy father who would want her to return to his house. Naomi knew him well enough to suspect that he already had another husband in mind for Ruth, a rich merchant’s son or an official in the king’s court. Her heart sank at the thought of Ruth married to someone other than her son. Curious . . . the same wasn’t true of Orpah.

Perhaps it was because Ruth had responded to her teachings about the true God. How Naomi had rejoiced as she watched the slow budding of the girl’s faith.

“Did you see your father and mother yesterday, Ruth?”

Ruth shook her head.

“Why not? They should know you’re leaving the city.”

“They will know that I’m with you.”

“Do they know I’m going back to Bethlehem?”

“My mother said you would, and I told her that even if you did, I belong with my husband’s family.”

Naomi said no more about it. She started off, carrying only a small sack of parched grain, a skin of water, and a leather bag in which was a sandalwood box containing crystals of frankincense. She would give it to the priest when she reached Bethlehem, an offering for the Lord.

She felt a sense of relief as she walked through the gates of Kir-hareseth and saw the road before her. Whatever hardships came, at least she was on her way back to Canaan. She didn’t look back. Orpah did look back, weeping softly, but Ruth merely smiled and gazed off toward the King’s Highway to the Dead Sea. “It’s a good day to begin our journey, Mother.”

The day wore on and the sun rose, hot and oppressive. Naomi felt despair creeping into her heart. Soon she would say good-bye to these daughters.
Lord, give me the strength to place their needs ahead of my fear of being alone. Father, bless them for their kindness to me. Take them safely home, and give me the courage to go on alone.

At midday they stopped to rest beneath a terebinth tree. Naomi accepted the raisin cake and cup of water Ruth offered, but Orpah declined food. She was quiet, her eyes downcast. Ruth sat down and wiped the perspiration from her face. She looked weary but was more concerned about her sister-in-law than herself. “Are you not feeling well, Orpah?”

“I’ll be all right after a rest.”

Naomi knew what was wrong, but the knowledge gave her no satisfaction. She must send them back now. There was still time enough for them to be safely back inside the city walls before nightfall. She finished eating quickly and rose, lifting to her own back the bundle Ruth had insisted upon carrying to this point.

“What are you doing?” Ruth said, rising as well.

“I’m going on alone.”

“No, Mother!”

Orpah came to her feet and joined Ruth in protest, weeping profusely. “Don’t go! Please don’t go.”

Naomi’s heart broke, but she knew she must remain firm. “Go back to your mothers’ homes instead of coming with me. And may the Lord reward you for your kindness to your husbands and to me. May the Lord bless you with the security of another marriage.”

Ruth wept. “No.” She shook her head. “No,
no . .
.” She stepped forward. “We want to go with you to your people.”

“Why should you go on with me?” Naomi said, striving and failing to keep her voice from becoming strident with restrained emotion. “Can I still give birth to other sons who could grow up to be your husbands? No, my daughters, return to your parents’ homes, for I am too old to marry again. And even if it were possible, and I were to get married tonight and bear sons, then what? Would you wait for them to grow up and refuse to marry someone else? No, of course not, my daughters! Things are far more bitter for me than for you, because the Lord Himself has caused me to suffer.”

Ruth and Orpah wept harder. Orpah embraced her. “I shall never forget you, Naomi. May you have a safe journey home.”

“Nor I you,” Naomi said and kissed her. “And a safe journey to you as well!”

Orpah took up her bundles and started back toward Kir-hareseth. She paused after a little way and looked back, perplexed. “Aren’t you coming, Ruth?”

“No.” Ruth shook her head, her eyes awash with tears. “I’m going with Mother.”

Orpah dropped her things and ran back to embrace her. “Are you certain, my sister?”

“Never more certain.”

“Please . . .”

“No. Go back without me. I will go on with Naomi.”

With one last look back, Orpah started off again. Naomi watched Orpah walk quickly away and then looked at Ruth. She stretched out her hand and pointed toward Kir-hareseth. “See. Your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods. You should do the same.”