Naomi's Loss
It seemed such a long time coming as Elimelech and Naomi sat at the wooden table laden with the milk and cheese from the goats and the bread she had made from their own grain harvest. The boys smelt the fragrance of the bread cooking over the fire, and stayed nearby yearning for the first taste. Their grateful hearts turned to heaven.
Naamah, their nearest neighbour, laughed when she saw Naomi singing and dancing around the fire, cooking that bread. She remembered her fear when the family from Judah had settled their tent so close to her own and how quickly Naomi had become such a dear friend, sharing what little she had and always offering a kind word.
Each morning in this land that looked to the god Chemosh, they lifted their eyes to the God of heaven. After all, Elimelech’s name meant God is King. Then Elimelech died, and Naomi’s world stopped.
Naomi, with Elimelech by her side, had confronted life’s trials, and things took on a smoother rhythm once in Moab caring for the animals and crops. Now he was gone. Naamah mourned with Naomi as a cushion of shock protected her friend, allowing survival while the world kept going and reality took hold.
Naomi struggled with anger towards God, asking why he had left her alone to raise two boys. Then the anger turned to Elimelech. It made little sense, but the anger needed an outlet. How else could she deal with the jagged wound his death had made?
His fragrance remained on his nightclothes while the cup he used still sat by the water bucket. At the sun’s setting, there was a reminder. He wasn’t coming home.
How happy they were as they stood before the man of God to become husband and wife, a life of forever together, or so she thought. The boys came quickly after, and then years of struggle. Weariness became etched on Elimelech’s face. Only recently had she noticed a softer, calmer expression. But now he was gone, and the heavy burden of grief stole her strength. She willed herself out of bed to feed the boys.
They needed her. So, day by day, her strength increased as she cared for them. Mahlon had the same strut his dad had, especially when looking for a solution, while Chilion, more like her in temperament, looked like his dad. They grew into men and found wives. If only they had wives from back home, who knew their God and would follow their customs, but it was in Yahweh’s hands.
Naomi couldn’t wait to have grandchildren. She prayed for a grandson to carry on Elimelech’s line. Mahlon lost the use of his right arm after an injury, and Chilion was often ill. If only God would grant her healthy grandchildren. But then, too soon, Mahlon’s life was cut short, leaving his young wife, Ruth. Naomi held the young widow and prayed over her especially at first when the grief was raw. Ruth had been a good wife to her son, picking up much of the work he could not do so she made sure she had food to eat and clean clothes to put on. She had learned that in caring for others there was strength to go on, and Ruth would learn too. Then she waited. Perhaps there would be a child. But time moved on, and the dream faded.
Perhaps it would be through Chilion that the heir would come, but one evening, a chill wind blew, silencing the cheerful greeting he regularly brought to his mother’s door. Again, Naomi sat with a young widow to ensure she did not get lost in her grief while her own compounded. Then, as the months passed, hope did also.
Within ten years, Naomi had lost all. Alone, with no heir to further Elimelech’s line, despair darkened her days.
Then word came. Naamah had heard it in the village. In Judah, the famine was over. Could it be true? Naomi had to know and set her eyes toward home.
