Chapter Eleven #3
She had sung during the hymns and had listened eagerly during Sunday school. For a few precious hours, she had seemed lighter. More like the child James described.
What would happen if Henry continued pushing away every reminder of faith? Every opportunity for healing?
Ruth sat down heavily in the rocking chair near the kitchen window. The house was quiet except for the ticking of the clock. She folded her hands in her lap.
The truth was, she worried about them both. About the little girl who missed her mother so desperately. And about the man who seemed determined to carry his grief alone. Neither of them appeared to realize that the burden was crushing them.
Her gaze drifted toward the Bible resting on the side table. She reached for it and opened it to the marked page. “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
The words felt especially poignant now, because Henry was clearly weary. Not only physically, but spiritually and emotionally. The kind of weariness that came from carrying pain for too long.
Ruth sighed softly. She could not force him back to church and she could not argue him into faith. And she certainly could not heal wounds she barely understood. Only God could do that.
All she could do was be patient. Show him kindness and pray.
The thought brought a measure of peace. Because if there was one thing Ruth had learned over the years, it was that hearts rarely changed through pressure.
More often, they changed through love and grace.
Through the quiet persistence of people who refused to give up on one another.
Her eyes drifted once more toward the pasture where Henry was still working beneath the hot Texas sun. Still carrying burdens he never spoke about. And for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Ruth found herself whispering a prayer for him.
Not that he would become easier or that he would suddenly agree with her. But that one day he might find the peace he seemed to be searching for everywhere except the place it could truly be found.
Just then, Lola appeared in the doorway, pulling Ruth from her thoughts. The little girl climbed onto a chair beside her and rested her chin on the table. “What are you reading?”
Ruth glanced down at the Bible resting in her lap. “Nothing yet,” she said. “But do you want to hear my favorite story?”
Lola tilted her head. “Is it exciting?”
Ruth laughed softly. “That depends who you ask.”
“What story?”
“It’s the story of Ruth.”
Lola sat up straighter as Ruth carefully turned the pages of her Bible.
“It begins with a woman named Naomi. She lived in Bethlehem with her husband and her two sons. Then a famine came to the land, and there wasn’t enough food, so the family left their home and traveled to a distant country.
” She paused briefly before continuing, “But life there did not turn out the way they hoped. Naomi’s husband died, and later both of her sons died as well.
By the time the story truly begins, Naomi has lost almost everything. ”
The corners of Lola’s mouth turned down as Ruth gently turned a page. “One of Naomi’s daughters-in-law was named Ruth. When Naomi decided to return home, she told the younger women to remain behind and build new lives for themselves.”
Her voice softened as she read directly from the page. “Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” The familiar words filled the quiet room.
“Ruth could have stayed where she was,” Ruth explained. “She could have chosen the easier path. Instead, she followed Naomi into the unknown because she loved her.” For a moment, her own journey flashed through her mind. She swallowed and continued.
“When they arrived in Bethlehem, they were poor. Ruth worked hard gathering grain from the fields so she and Naomi would have food to eat. Every day, she trusted that God would provide what they needed.”
Lola listened silently. Outside, the wind stirred the leaves of the cottonwoods near the creek.
“One day,” Ruth continued, “she found herself working in a field owned by a man named Boaz. He noticed her immediately, not because she was beautiful or important, but because people spoke of her kindness. They spoke of the way she cared for Naomi and remained faithful even when life was difficult.” A small smile touched Ruth’s lips.
“Boaz treated her with compassion. He made certain she had enough food. He protected her. He saw her worth when others might have overlooked it.”
The child remained completely absorbed as Ruth glanced down at the page. “Eventually, Boaz married Ruth. Not because he had to. Not because anyone forced him. He chose to.” The words seemed to linger in the room.
“He showed kindness freely, and God blessed both of them for their faithfulness. And Naomi, who had once believed she had lost everything, found joy again. Ruth, who had stepped into an uncertain future with nothing but faith, found a family. And through them, God accomplished things neither of them could have imagined.”
Ruth closed the Bible gently and for a few moments, neither she nor Lola spoke. Finally, Ruth rested her hand on the cover of the Bible. “I think that’s why I love the story so much.”
Lola looked up. “Why?”
“Because it reminds me that God is always working, even when we cannot see what He’s doing.” She smiled softly. “And because sometimes the bravest thing a person can do is trust Him with the next step.”
After a moment, Lola slid from her chair. “I need to feed Buttercup.” The pony always won eventually.
Ruth smiled. “I thought you might.”
The little girl paused at the door. “I liked the story.” Then she disappeared outside and the admission warmed Ruth’s heart long after she left.
***
A short while later, Ruth made her way to the kitchen to turn her attention to supper.
The kitchen was quiet except for the bubbling of stew simmering on the stove.
She had made it earlier that afternoon and left it to cook.
Golden afternoon light filled the room as she reached for a jar of preserves she hoped to serve with the biscuits.
Unfortunately, the lid refused to cooperate. She tried again, the skin on her palm twisting painfully, but still nothing. “Come on, Ruth,” she mumbled. “You cannot be beaten by a jar of preserves.”
A third attempt produced equally disappointing results and Ruth exhaled through her nose in frustration.
At that exact moment, a shadow fell across the counter and before she could turn around, a hand reached past her.
Without a word, Henry took the jar and with one twist, the seal broke immediately.
Ruth stared. “I must have loosened it,” she said.
The corners of Henry’s mouth twitched as he handed the jar back. “Here.”
Their fingers brushed briefly and Ruth’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you.”
Henry nodded once and then turned toward the door.
She watched him disappear outside and Ruth found herself understanding anyway. The jar had never really been about the jar. It was the only apology his pride would allow him to offer. And somehow, she suspected, it was the first one he had offered anyone in quite some time.