Unshaken (5 page)

Fighting tears, Ruth said, “I don’t know, but whatever it is, God will help us.”

After that, she could speak no more. She had only strength enough to keep them moving until they found a place of rest.
Oh, please, God, please help us!

As they came around a bend in the road, Ruth noticed a large crack in the stone mountainside. “Just a few more feet,” she said, urging Naomi on. The crevice was large enough to shelter both women for the night.

Naomi sank down with a groan and leaned back against a boulder. Ruth winced as she shrugged off her bundles and sat beside her. She rolled her shoulders to ease her aching muscles. “We’re almost to the summit,” she said, leaning her head back against the cold stone. “We will reach Jerusalem tomorrow.”

Naomi said nothing. She was breathing heavily, her eyes closed, her face pale with exhaustion.

Ruth rose again and unrolled the bedding. She broke the last raisin cake in half. “You’ll feel better after you’ve had something to eat.” Naomi took the food and ate slowly. Ruth saw the sheen of tears in Naomi’s eyes.

“God willing, we will be in Bethlehem early tomorrow,” Naomi said, folding her hands in her lap. “It is only a short distance beyond Jerusalem.”

Ruth smiled and put her hand over Naomi’s. “You’re almost home, Mother.”

Naomi closed her eyes, but not before tears slipped down her dusty cheeks. Ruth sat closer and put her arm around her mother-in-law. Naomi leaned her head against Ruth’s shoulder, and within moments was asleep.

Lord, Lord . . .
Ruth didn’t know what to pray anymore. She was too weary to think but not to fear.
Thank You for bringing us this far. Please do not leave us now.

Ruth knew the real trial of her strength was only just beginning. With each day of travel, Naomi had become increasingly dependent upon her. Ruth did not mind, but she was plagued by worries.

What would become of them when they reached Bethlehem?

WITH Bethlehem so close, Naomi became eager to reach home. Rising before the sun, the two women set out on the final leg of their journey. Naomi’s strength was renewed. Ruth didn’t have to urge her on as before. “It’s not far now. Not far at all,” Naomi said. With the rising sun, they followed the road past Jerusalem. It was still morning when they entered the town of Bethlehem. Women were gathered at the well in the center of town, talking and laughing as they drew up water for the day’s household needs. They noticed Naomi and Ruth, and drew in closer together, lowering their voices. Ruth could feel Naomi’s tension. “Come, Mother. Perhaps there will be someone you know, and I need to fill the skins.”

One woman, older than the rest, separated herself from the others. “Is it really Naomi?” She frowned heavily, tilting her head as though she couldn’t see clearly.

Ruth touched her mother-in-law’s arm gently. “You aren’t forgotten. You still have friends in Bethlehem.”

“It is Naomi!” She came toward her, arms outstretched. “Naomi, you have returned!”

The women cried out in excitement, hastening toward her mother-in-law. Ruth stepped back to allow them room, giving silent thanks to God that Naomi was remembered and welcomed so warmly. Perhaps the enthusiastic greeting of these women would raise her mother-in-law’s spirits.

“Naomi, you look as though you’ve traveled hundreds of miles!”

“Where have you been all these years?”

“We heard you went to Moab.”

“What’s happened to you?”

Ruth saw Naomi’s distress growing. Her mother-in-law looked this way and that as though seeking an escape from this throng of interrogators.

“I remember the day you left with mules loaded down with your possessions.”

“What’s happened to you?”

Ruth could only imagine what her mother-in-law was thinking. Naomi was home in Bethlehem, but she was destitute. She was among friends but was clearly the object of their pity and curiosity. Aching for her, Ruth was uncertain what to do. Should she press her way into the center of the circle and try to rescue her? Or would that only make matters worse? The women had made a tight circle around Naomi, while presenting Ruth their backs. In fact, no one had given her more than a hostile glance. The women made no effort to hide their shock at Naomi’s appearance.

“Where is your husband, Elimelech?”

“Such a tall, handsome man.”

The women pressed in upon Naomi from all sides, asking questions that would only stir up the grief of recent tragedies.

“You had sons. Where are they?”

“Surely they haven’t remained in Moab!”

“Where are Mahlon and Kilion?”

They were all speaking at once, their piqued interest focused on Naomi’s misery. Ruth was not surprised or hurt because the women chose to ignore her. Naomi had warned her she would not be welcome. “My people will see you as a foreigner. And worse, they’ll know you’re a Moabitess.” Everything about Ruth’s appearance declared her nationality. Her clothing was distinctive, and her skin was darker. She had no money to change the one, and no ability to change the other. It would take time for these people to accept her.

“Don’t expect to be invited into anyone’s house,” Naomi had said. A Hebrew could not invite a foreigner inside his home without defiling it.

“Oh, Naomi,” the women said, hearing about the death of Elimelech, Kilion, and Mahlon. “Oy, your sorrow is too much to bear!” They seemed to withdraw slightly, embarrassed, uncertain. Were they afraid Naomi’s misfortune might somehow be transferred to them if they offered her assistance? Ruth moved forward, edging her way through the women until she was close enough to Naomi to be seen.

“Don’t call me Naomi.” Naomi cried out. “Instead, call me Mara, for the Almighty has made life very bitter for me.” She began to weep and wail. “I went away full, but the Lord has brought me home empty. Why should you call me Naomi when the Lord has caused me to suffer and the Almighty has sent such tragedy?”

Perhaps the women had been too long separated from Naomi to share her grief. Though offering words of sympathy, they seemed ill equipped to comfort her. They stood uneasy, looking at one another, distressed and silent. Ruth moved forward again, and when Naomi’s gaze fell upon her, relief flooded her mother-in-law’s face. “Ruth, oh, my Ruth, come here to me.”

As Ruth pressed her way forward, the women moved back from her, drawing away so she wouldn’t brush against them. They no longer ignored her, but stared openly, contemptuously. Heat poured into Ruth’s cheeks. Had the Moabites stared at Naomi the same way when she first came to Kir-hareseth?

“This is my daughter-in-law. This is Mahlon’s widow, Ruth,” Naomi said, taking her hand. Ruth could feel how Naomi was shaking. Was this the moment her mother-in-law had most dreaded? Introducing her Moabitess daughter-in-law to her friends? Was Naomi ashamed of her? She was all the proof these people needed that at least one of Naomi’s sons had turned away from God and taken a foreign wife. Ruth was filled with sorrow at the thought of causing her mother-in-law more grief.

“She’s a Moabite.” The words came out like a curse.

“By birth,” Naomi said.

“Does she expect to stay here?” Never had Ruth felt so unwelcome.

Naomi lifted her chin, her hand tightening around Ruth’s. “Yes, she will stay. She and I will live together.”

“But Naomi, think of what you’re doing!”

“I would not have survived without Ruth.”

“You’re among your own people now, Naomi. Send the foreigner back where she belongs. You know what the Law says.”

Naomi turned slightly, her body rigid. “There were Egyptians who came with us out of Egypt.”

“And look at the trouble they caused!”

“Foreign women are cursed of God!”

“They turn our men’s hearts away from the Lord!”

“Enough!”
Naomi cried out. “Should I cut off what God has grafted in? Ruth chose to come with me. She turned her back on her mother and father and her brothers and sisters, all she has ever known, to come to Bethlehem and worship God with me.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment, but Ruth knew words could not convince these women that she was worthy of acceptance. She would have to live an exemplary life before them in order for them to believe she had chosen Naomi over her father and mother, and God over the idols of her people. Time. It would take time.

“You have returned in time for Passover, Naomi. It is good to have you back among us.”

And with that said, the women began to disperse, leaving Ruth and Naomi alone at the well.

Ruth wept softly. “I have brought shame upon you. I have made your homecoming even more difficult than it might have been otherwise.”

“No,” Naomi said wearily. “They remember the way I was before I left. My husband prospered and I had cause to rejoice. I could laugh and sing with them. Now my wretchedness makes them uncomfortable. If it could happen to me, they think, it could happen to them. It’s not a comforting thought.”

“You will laugh and sing with them again, Mother.”

Naomi shook her head. “I didn’t expect to find anyone,” she said softly. “But this . . .” She bent her neck, staring down at the ground. “Not one offered us so much as a loaf of bread or a sip of watered wine.”

“Because of me.”

“Should you take all the blame? I lived in Moab for twenty years. I dwelt among idol worshipers and opened my home to the foreign women my sons took for wives. In Hebrew eyes, I am as defiled as you. Perhaps more so because I
knew better.
” Naomi’s eyes welled with tears. “Oh, my dear. You’re all I have. You’re God’s blessing to me. We are not going to be welcome in their homes, Ruth. It is the way things are. We will have to make our own way.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “And tomorrow is Passover. I’d forgotten. How could I forget a day so important? The most important celebration of my people and I . . .”

Ruth embraced her. She held Naomi close, stroking her as she would a hurt child, all the while aware of several women watching them from their doorways. When Naomi regained control over her emotions, Ruth kept a protective arm around her. “We will find someplace to stay, Mother. Everything will look better after a good night’s sleep.”

Ruth took a coin from the small cache she kept deep in her pack, but when she offered it to an innkeeper on the edge of town, he shook his head. “There’s no room in the inn for you.”

As Ruth turned away, she saw how haggard and dejected Naomi looked. Truly, Naomi was “Mara,” for Ruth had never seen her look so bitter. “We will go on,” Ruth said. “There will be another place farther down the road.”

But there wasn’t. As the morning wore on, Ruth realized there would be no room for them anywhere in Bethlehem. “We have slept under the stars before,” she said, trying to remain hopeful for her mother-in-law’s sake.

“The land that belonged to my husband is not far from here,” Naomi said as they walked beyond the borders of the town. “There are caves near it. The shepherds use them as folds for their sheep during the winter months, but the flocks will be gone by now. They will have contracts with the landowners to graze in the fields after harvest.”

The larger caves were still occupied by members of the shepherds’ families. Leaving a cave unattended was an open invitation for the destitute to take residence. But not far away was another cave that was empty, one not large enough to be of use as a sheepfold, but more than big enough to shelter two tired, lonely women from the elements. Naomi entered and looked around as Ruth unpacked their bedding and few possessions.

The difficult days of travel were over, but Ruth could see her mother-in-law’s grief was deeper and more acute now than it had been during the grueling days of their journey. All the years her mother-in-law had dreamed of coming home, only to find herself here in such mean surroundings with nothing but the clothes on her back and a few necessities for survival—cookstove, blanket, water. Night was falling. It was going to be cold. They had little food left and no relative to show pity on them.

Naomi moved farther into the cave and sat with her back against the stone, staring into the shadows. Her face was filled with despair. Ruth wondered if she was thinking back to the way things had been before she and her husband and sons left this city. Were regret and guilt being added to grief over her losses?

“I went away full, but the Lord has brought me home empty . . .” she’d said at the well.

Ruth looked out and wondered what it had been like when Mahlon was a little boy. Memories of her husband flooded her. Poor Mahlon. He’d been so young when he died, all his hopes and dreams dying with him. And there would be no son to carry on his name. But she could not allow herself to dwell upon these thoughts. It would only weaken her and make her of no use to Naomi, who needed her desperately. Being needed and of use was a good thing.

She drew in her breath. “It’s spring, Mother. Can you smell the flowers?”

“We haven’t what we need to celebrate Passover,” Naomi said grimly.

“I’ll go back to Bethlehem and buy whatever we need.”

“With what? Will you beg? Will you prostitute yourself? They won’t give you anything. You saw how they looked at you. You know how they acted.”

“We have a few coins left.”

Naomi glared, her eyes awash with tears. “And what will we do when those run out?”

“The Lord will help us.”

“The Lord has forgotten us!” Naomi looked around the cave. “He has forgotten me!” She drew her shawl over her face and wept bitterly.

Ruth pressed trembling lips together until she knew she wouldn’t weep along with her. She must be gentle but firm. “We are home, Mother. We are back among your people. God
will
help us. He helped us get here, and He will help us survive.” She put her hand on Naomi’s knee. “You said we should trust in God and so we shall. You said we should love Him with all our heart, our mind, and our strength. And so we shall.” Her voice broke softly. “Now, please tell me. What do we need for Passover?”

Naomi lowered her shawl, her face ravaged by tears. “I can’t even remember, Ruth. After the first few years in Moab, Elimelech stopped celebrating the feasts of the Lord. And I couldn’t.”

Ruth sat beside her and took her hand. She stroked it. “It will come back to you. Tell me about the way it was when you were a little girl.”