Ruth & Boaz (con't)

Ruth stood up, shielding her eyes from the rays of the mid-morning sun. She lay a hand on the small of her back and stretched the muscles there. Gleaning was not easy work.

Still, she was grateful. Permission to glean in these fields was truly a blessing from God. Back in Moab the wealthy cared very little for the plight of the poor. At least here she was able to provide for herself and her mother-in-law. They had very little when it came to material possessions, but at least their bellies were full. And they were in good health. Ruth was young and strong and as long as the man who owned these fields allowed her to glean, she would do so with a grateful and happy heart.

Ruth heard the clanging of a bell and watched as the field workers lay down their sickles and headed towards the main house, where they would eat their lunch and rest. Ruth felt her own stomach grumbling. She eyed the heavy branches of a nearby tree and began to walk towards it. She sat beneath its blessed shade and opened her sash, revealing a simple meal of bread and cheese. She opened her goatskin of water and took a sip. It was already growing warm. 

"Ruth!" Ruth looked up, wondering who it was that called her. She was still new to Moab and didn't know many people. Oh, but it was the overseer of the fields, the same man who gave her permission to work on these lands. Ruth set her meal aside and stood. Had she done something wrong? she wondered.

Amal finally reached the young woman, a bit out of breath. 

"What is it, my lord?" Ruth asked nervously. "Is something amiss?"

"No, no," Amal assured her. "I simply wanted to relay a message. The master of these lands wishes for you to participate in the mid-day meal with the rest of the workers. I was sent to accompany you back to the main house."

Ruth looked out towards the group of workers that had huddled around an array of tables and benches. "Me?" she asked incredulously. "Are you sure your master asked for me?"

"Yes, I'm sure. That is, unless you'd rather have your own meal...?" Amal looked down at the woman's meager lunch.

Ruth felt herself blush slightly. It would be rude to refuse such a generous offer. She wrapped up her food and stuffed it back into her sash. "I would be honored," she said softly. 

Ruth wondered about the master of these lands as she followed Amal back to the main house. She had heard he was good and generous. He was one of the wealthiest citizens of Bethlehem and either because of this, or perhaps despite of this, was known to all for his reputation as a God-fearing and benevolent man. There were those who had also whispered to her that he was the son of a harlot and as a result, had remained unmarried and alone. Ruth had dismissed the information as absurd and irrelevant. Who was she to judge a man on his family lineage? It was a person's actions and that which resided within his heart that made him who he was. 

Ruth's sandals finally reached the cobblestone path that led to the open courtyard. She smelled the aroma of roasting grain. The men and women were enjoying their meal, picking from plates filled with pickled olives, fresh dates, almonds and chunks of goat cheese. A stew of leeks, onions and what smelled like lamb's meat simmered somewhere nearby. Ruth heard her stomach grumble again. It had been a long time since she'd had any meat.

Ruth waited with Amal and watched as a man approached them. 

"My lord, this is the woman, Ruth, that we spoke about -- the widow of Moab."

Ruth looked up and immediately, her legs grew as a weak as those of a newborn calf... 

Boaz studied the young woman before him carefully. Her thick, dark hair was wrapped up in a loose knot at the nape of her neck and her cheeks were flushed and rose-hued, a result perhaps of the warmth of the sun. She was slender and tall, with a long, graceful neck and finely carved cheekbones that spoke of elegance and grace. Her skin was the color of fine porcelain but her eyes...her eyes were the color of the sky. Piercing and bright, they mesmerized him almost. The blue was intense and alluring and yet so full of innocence that he felt himself grow dizzy and light-headed. Boaz realized he had been holding his breath. 

"I am Boaz," he heard himself say. She lowered her gaze and bowed slightly. 

"May the Lord bless you greatly, my lord, for having shown such mercy and kindness to one such as I," she said softly. The Hebrew words rolled off her tongue with a slight accent, marking her as a foreigner. They sounded melodious to his ears. 

"I'm glad you decided to join us for the meal," he said, hoping his voice was not quavering as much as his hands were. "And I'm glad you are here, working for me."

"It is I who should be thanking you, my lord. I am a widow and a foreigner here in these lands and yet your generosity in allowing me to glean in your fields is a tribute to your love for God and for His commandments."

Boaz was taken by surprise. "You know of our God's commandments?"

Ruth smiled. Her eyes were transformed and for a split moment Boaz felt as if the clouds had departed and the sun was shining only for him.

"I accepted your God as my own many years ago. I am a Moabite, but only by name, for I follow the one and only true God with all my soul, heart and mind."

Boaz found himself smiling. A woman of faith. A foreigner who had turned from her people and her people's gods only to embrace the god of the Hebrews.

"You and my mother would have had many things to talk about had she still been alive," he found himself saying out loud.

Ruth tilted her head slightly, like an inquisitive bird, a habit of hers when she did not understand something. But did not pry. It was not her place.

She looked up at Boaz and again, felt the strange numbness in her legs and a slight acceleration of her heart as it beat within her breast. She had imagined the master of these lands to be a kindly, old man, with a graying beard and a shaggy mane of white hair. At other times he had been portrayed as a sort of hermit, a stooped and elderly creature living alone on his vast estate, surrounded by empty rooms and dusty old scrolls, shuffling around with his walking stick, squinting against the sun with pale, watery eyes.

But Boaz was neither of these things. He stood tall and straight, his linen mantle hanging off of broad shoulders and arms that relayed many years of heavy labor. His skin was sun-kissed and smooth and his thick hair was dark, with only a few strands of gray at the temples. His eyes were dark and were boring upon her with such intensity she found a blush creeping up against her neck and exploding onto her cheeks. Boaz was so handsome it was almost dizzying.

"Ruth," she head him say her name. His voice was deep and baritoned, very masculine. The sound of her name being uttered by that voice made her stomach flip nervously.

"I would like it if you stayed here and worked for me," he said. "Remain among my fields for the remainder of the harvest season. I offer my protection to all the women who glean in my fields and my men have orders not to disturb any of you while you work. You may drink from the water jars the men have filled when you are thirsty and you may join the rest of the laborers in the mid-day meals if you so desire. Please," he said, his voice gentle and soothing, "remain here in my fields. You will be safe here. I will make sure of it."

Ruth looked up at Boaz, her throat thick with emotion. "My lord," she stuttered, "you...you are too kind. What have I done to deserve such generosity? I am just a poor foreigner in your lands." Ruth covered her face with her hands. Her mouth thanked Boaz for his goodness, but in her heart she praised the Lord for His.

She felt Boaz touch her shoulder gently. She looked up at him, her eyes wet with unshed tears. He took hold of one of her hands and held it tenderly between his two larger ones. His fingers were warm.

"I've heard about you have done for your mother-in-law, Naomi, since the death of your husband. I heard about how you left your family and your homeland and came to live amongst a people you did not know because of your great love and loyalty to her."

"I only did what my heart knew was right, my lord," she explained. "I could not abandon her in her old age. She has lost everyone she loved. I am all she has left. Besides," she added, "I did not want to remain in Moab, surrounded by false gods and pagan ways. I had given my life to the one true God a long time ago. Where better to seek refuge than in the land of His people?"

Boaz smiled again. "May the Lord repay you for what you have done, Ruth," he said softly. "May you be richly rewarded by Him, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge."

 “Thank you, my lord," she whispered softly. "And may I continue to find favor in your eyes. You have put my heart at ease by speaking kindly to your humble servant." She closed her eyes for a moment, her thick eyelashes falling gently onto her cheeks.

Boaz reluctantly let go of her hand. He cleared his throat. "Please, go and enjoy the meal. Take what you wish and do not be shy. The day is still young."

Ruth bowed low before him. She smiled at him one last time before she turned and joined the other workers.

Boaz watched her from afar, not trusting himself to get any closer or speak any more words to her.

"Amal," he called to his overseer.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Watch over her," he said, motioning to Ruth. "Make sure she is allowed to work unmolested by anyone. Leave some extra heads of grain for her to glean and have someone remind her to drink and eat with the rest of the workers. Think nothing of it for she has my permission."

"Of course, my lord."

Boaz rubbed his bearded chin absently. What a remarkable woman, he thought to himself. And so incredibly lovely. Those eyes would cause any man to drown in them most happily....

Amal looked at his master, following his line of vision until it rested on the young widow. He smiled to himself.

His master might not realize it just yet, but he was in the very process of falling in love.