While the story has been beloved to me, it took on new meaning not so long ago when I learned of a Ruth in my own family tree. Even more wonderful, I had grown up admiring her but never knowing her name. Her portrait hung in my Aunt Vivian’s home. There was a sense of mystery to her, as if she had a story to share. As a little girl I would whisper to her, hoping she’d speak to me in return. Growing up, I assumed it was my aunt in her youth, it wasn’t until years after her death that I learned it was her mother.
Ruth.
I don’t know much about her, she lived in a small Kentucky town all her life and died at the young age of 32, when my aunt was a little girl. Though she’s only related to me distantly through marriage, there is something in her spirit that continues to speak to me. Especially all these years later, as I search for my own sense of truth. Perhaps I might never discover Ruth’s full story, but I know that somehow, she encourages me – that I may find strength in the rich heritage of her name.
“May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.” Ruth 2:12
