Worth Waiting
There are many things we don't know about Boaz:
-- We don't know why this rich, successful, kind, generous man was single and, it seems, without any children
-- We don't know what went on behind the scenes as the story transpired.
-- We don't know if it crossed Boaz's mind to be kinsman-redeemer.
We don't know, but here are the colors I am painting to fill in the spaces between the lines
Spring melted into early summer. The barley harvest was finished, beginning in Abib {our March to April} and finishing in Zif {our April to May}. There had been a 60 fold increase and much rejoicing. The wheat harvest was drawing to a close and it too had been abundant, beginning in Sivan {our May to June} and finishing in Tamuz {our June to July}. The days were warmer and warmer -- some hot. Boaz stood looking out at the fields one morning, breathing prayers of gratitude to God for the full barns. Micah walked up, ready to begin the day.
"Micah -- alone? I thought you would bring Yaffa and the children today. Reuben has the lamb roasting already."
"She will be here soon -- she wanted to bake a bit more bread, and then pack the wagon...you know ~ I'll just ... I'll just..." said Micah chuckling. "Is she here yet?"
Boaz turned and caught the twinkle in Micah eyes. Shaking his head, Boaz didn't answer. Micah's teasing about Ruth had increased as the weeks went by.
"Seriously, though, Boaz...as your friend...Hanni has been gone ~ how long now?"
Boaz's eyes lost their gleam, "12 years," he said flatly. He turned and grabbed his cloak and swept from the room.
Micah followed. "Boaz! Stop!! Boaz...listen -- listen to me."
Boaz stopped but did not turn to look at his friend. Micah touched his shoulder. Boaz shrugged it away. "The sun already grows hot. I must . . ."
"What you must do is LISTEN TO ME! Boaz, Hanni loved you but she would not rejoice to see you alone. You cannot hold her memory like a shield any longer. What excuses do you use today for why you do not speak for Ruth...she is young, you are old? So? She can bear children. You have waited . . . no one speaks for her, and you have heard the whispers ~ "... that Moabitess..." and that is the kindest thing they say."
"Micah, enough. We must see to the harvest." And with that Boaz stormed away. Walking to the fields his thoughts were as hot as the wind blowing from the hills. "How dare ... I loved Hanni, I love her still ~ he cannot understand." When Hanni had died in childbirth the world had been dark...he wasn't even sure how long he sat ... day after day after day, just sitting in the dust and ashes. At the end of the first year, had Micah not run the fields and the harvest and Yaffa not kept the household together ~ he didn't even know what might have happened. One day Micah had invited him to the field during the end of the barley harvest. It seemed his muscles remembered the work more even than his mind. Once he began, he seemed to work like a madman. Slowly but surely the smells of the fields, the songs of the harvesters, the exhaustion at the end of the harvests did their work. His mind had returned and he woke to find that he could bury his grief if he woke with the dawn and worked till he dropped. Over the years his land prospered. It wasn't the wealth....oh that had come...it was the life: the rhythm of the seasons, the tasks that filled the days and left his body tired and able to sleep at night. It was a couple of years before the matchmakers approached him...this girl, that girl. He said no every time. It wasn't just that he was still in grief ... none of the girls were Hanni. Until he noticed Ruth...he stopped, struck by the thought...until he noticed Ruth he had not so much as seen a woman ~ well, not as a woman.
At first, he had thought she was like a frightened doe. She walked with her head down, never spoke. He noticed that she went to the well very early, before the other women. He had spoken to his foreman, telling him to watch out for her. He, like Micah, had heard the men and women's bitter gossip about her: "that Moabitess, here to steal our grain, and our men. See how she goes to the well alone, I bet she hopes the men will notice her." Boaz knew that if one of the rougher men found her alone...well...Ruth would be called a slut and blamed for tempting him. She was not what they thought. Boaz had seen how hard she worked. How she cared for Naomi. He knew from Anna, Naomi's old friend, that Ruth cooked and cleaned late into the evenings after working all day in the fields, to make Naomi's life easier. Yes, she seemed very much like a doe, quiet and sweet, and lovely.
A bitter laugh escaped -- now, now that he was old, now he noticed. He shook his head. There was a harvest to finish. Two, maybe three more days . . . .
-- We don't know why this rich, successful, kind, generous man was single and, it seems, without any children
-- We don't know what went on behind the scenes as the story transpired.
-- We don't know if it crossed Boaz's mind to be kinsman-redeemer.
We don't know, but here are the colors I am painting to fill in the spaces between the lines
Spring melted into early summer. The barley harvest was finished, beginning in Abib {our March to April} and finishing in Zif {our April to May}. There had been a 60 fold increase and much rejoicing. The wheat harvest was drawing to a close and it too had been abundant, beginning in Sivan {our May to June} and finishing in Tamuz {our June to July}. The days were warmer and warmer -- some hot. Boaz stood looking out at the fields one morning, breathing prayers of gratitude to God for the full barns. Micah walked up, ready to begin the day.
"Micah -- alone? I thought you would bring Yaffa and the children today. Reuben has the lamb roasting already."
"She will be here soon -- she wanted to bake a bit more bread, and then pack the wagon...you know ~ I'll just ... I'll just..." said Micah chuckling. "Is she here yet?"
Boaz turned and caught the twinkle in Micah eyes. Shaking his head, Boaz didn't answer. Micah's teasing about Ruth had increased as the weeks went by.
"Seriously, though, Boaz...as your friend...Hanni has been gone ~ how long now?"
Boaz's eyes lost their gleam, "12 years," he said flatly. He turned and grabbed his cloak and swept from the room.
Micah followed. "Boaz! Stop!! Boaz...listen -- listen to me."
Boaz stopped but did not turn to look at his friend. Micah touched his shoulder. Boaz shrugged it away. "The sun already grows hot. I must . . ."
"What you must do is LISTEN TO ME! Boaz, Hanni loved you but she would not rejoice to see you alone. You cannot hold her memory like a shield any longer. What excuses do you use today for why you do not speak for Ruth...she is young, you are old? So? She can bear children. You have waited . . . no one speaks for her, and you have heard the whispers ~ "... that Moabitess..." and that is the kindest thing they say."
"Micah, enough. We must see to the harvest." And with that Boaz stormed away. Walking to the fields his thoughts were as hot as the wind blowing from the hills. "How dare ... I loved Hanni, I love her still ~ he cannot understand." When Hanni had died in childbirth the world had been dark...he wasn't even sure how long he sat ... day after day after day, just sitting in the dust and ashes. At the end of the first year, had Micah not run the fields and the harvest and Yaffa not kept the household together ~ he didn't even know what might have happened. One day Micah had invited him to the field during the end of the barley harvest. It seemed his muscles remembered the work more even than his mind. Once he began, he seemed to work like a madman. Slowly but surely the smells of the fields, the songs of the harvesters, the exhaustion at the end of the harvests did their work. His mind had returned and he woke to find that he could bury his grief if he woke with the dawn and worked till he dropped. Over the years his land prospered. It wasn't the wealth....oh that had come...it was the life: the rhythm of the seasons, the tasks that filled the days and left his body tired and able to sleep at night. It was a couple of years before the matchmakers approached him...this girl, that girl. He said no every time. It wasn't just that he was still in grief ... none of the girls were Hanni. Until he noticed Ruth...he stopped, struck by the thought...until he noticed Ruth he had not so much as seen a woman ~ well, not as a woman.
At first, he had thought she was like a frightened doe. She walked with her head down, never spoke. He noticed that she went to the well very early, before the other women. He had spoken to his foreman, telling him to watch out for her. He, like Micah, had heard the men and women's bitter gossip about her: "that Moabitess, here to steal our grain, and our men. See how she goes to the well alone, I bet she hopes the men will notice her." Boaz knew that if one of the rougher men found her alone...well...Ruth would be called a slut and blamed for tempting him. She was not what they thought. Boaz had seen how hard she worked. How she cared for Naomi. He knew from Anna, Naomi's old friend, that Ruth cooked and cleaned late into the evenings after working all day in the fields, to make Naomi's life easier. Yes, she seemed very much like a doe, quiet and sweet, and lovely.
A bitter laugh escaped -- now, now that he was old, now he noticed. He shook his head. There was a harvest to finish. Two, maybe three more days . . . .
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