Motherly Advice
Naomi watched Ruth sweeping the floor without complaint; such a gift!
It was not right for Ruth to just work; she should have more. Young and beautiful, she, with the right husband, could have their own family. She tossed her thoughts upward, allowing the wind of God’s Spirit to blow the chaff away, to reveal the grain of wisdom.
“Ruth,” she said, “Should I not be thinking of your future?” Ruth stopped sweeping and looked at Naomi.
“Would you not love to be married again and have children?” she asked.
“Ah, but it was not to be,” said Ruth as she returned to sweeping.
“Listen, Ruth, it could still happen for you! I am too old, but you still have strength and energy. Why would you waste it on me? Besides, I would be negligent if I kept you to myself and denied you the blessing of marriage and family?”
Ruth set aside the broom and sat down on the wooden bench, taking Naomi’s hands in her own.
“I am happy here with you,” she said. “Caring for you gives me joy.”
“But there is more for you, my child, so listen to my plan. Remember how I told you Boaz, with whose maidens you work, is a close relative?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Tonight he will be at the winnowing floor threshing grain,” said Naomi.
“Yes, the abundant harvest will keep him busy for a long while.”
“Ruth, go wash up, anoint yourself with your sweetest fragrance, and put on your best garment; the one with the red sash is especially lovely.”
“I haven’t worn that in years.”
“It must be your finest. You decide which one. Then go down to the threshing floor and don’t let him know you are there. When he has eaten and is relaxed, watch where he lies down.”
Ruth was still thinking of the dress Naomi spoke of, the one Mahlon liked. She remembered how he stopped and stared the first time he saw the dress on her and drew her into a deep embrace. How much she had loved Mahlon!
But her husband was gone, and Naomi was talking about Boaz, the wealthy and kind landowner, whom she hoped would act as their redeemer. Would he be able to love her, the Moabitess?
“What if he discovers me?” she asked.
“He won’t be expecting anyone. So, just watch where he lies down.”
“Okay.”
“Then go uncover his feet and lie down.”
“But what will he do when he finds me there?” she asked.
“No need to worry, my child. He will tell you what to do from there.”
“Yes, Naomi, I will follow your instructions.”
Ruth filled the basin with cool water, and it eased the flushing on her face. Once clean, she sprinkled the sweet perfume on her skin. It had been a long time. Then she pulled on the dress, the red colour within it bringing life to her skin tones. The dress had not changed, but she had. Finally, she brushed her long waves until they lay smooth and shining on her shoulders. Once satisfied, she stood before her mother-in-law. Naomi shook her head and smiled approvingly. “Bless you, my child,” she said.
Naomi watched Ruth leave the house until she disappeared and uttered a plea for Yahweh’s blessing. Ruth pondered all that lay ahead.
She understood Naomi’s heart for her, but did Naomi understand her situation. How could she? Like Boaz, she was a child of Abraham, the man God chose to father His chosen people. She was a child of Lot and tightened her wrap around herself.
Ruth had experienced the disgust of Abraham’s children, the spitting when she walked in the square, and the degrading remarks, even while walking this road; conversations she should never have heard; when words like “unclean” and “dirty” were released into the air.
Boaz, not only a child of Abraham, lived in wealth from his many fields, and wherever he went, he was held in honour. How could he consider a woman of Moab to be anything more than a slave?
She considered his kindness to her, but that was his nature. Everyone he encountered received a kind word or a blessing from Boaz. She had witnessed how he talked kindly to and respected his maidservants. She was Ruth the Moabite widow, but she loved Naomi, trusted her wisdom, and would follow her instructions.
As the sun was setting, Ruth arrived at the threshing floor to see Boaz enjoying his meal. He licked his fingers, wiped his mouth, and rose from his seat, started singing and then shuffled about the stones of the threshing floor with an invisible partner, seemingly carefree. Her heart warmed at the sight of him.
Then he stopped and looked around. Had he smelled her fragrance amid the dusty air of the threshing floor? Surely not. He heaved an enormous sigh, laid down by the heap of grain, and wriggled to find the right spot, shaping his cloak into a pillow.
Ruth waited until his soft slow breathing became snoring.
Then, in the stillness of that summer evening, Ruth crept over to where he lay and with stealth, lifted the fine linen garment up and over his feet, exposing his dusty leather sandals. Then she lay down at his feet, fearful of what the beating of her heart might awaken.
