Then Mahlon got sick. Then Chilion. Then both of them were gone.
I didn't tell them about Ruth. Not yet. Let them wonder about the young Moabite woman following me like a shadow. Let them assume she was a servant, a hanger-on, a charity case. ruth mom pov
They named him Obed. And Obed grew up to be the father of Jesse, and Jesse grew up to be the father of David. Then Mahlon got sick
I remember thinking, I am a widow in a foreign land. But I still had my sons. A mother can survive anything if her children are breathing. I didn't tell them about Ruth
I have buried a husband. I have buried my boys. Do you understand what that does to a woman? It hollows her out. You become a walking echo. You stop being "Naomi" and become "the one whom the Lord has afflicted."
So let the women of Bethlehem talk. Let them whisper about how empty I was when I came back.
When famine ripped through our land, I did what mothers have always done: I followed my husband. If Elimelech said "Moab," we packed our tents and went to Moab. I held onto my two boys, Mahlon and Chilion, and told myself it was temporary. Just until the harvest. Just until God remembered us again.