Second Friday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Finding Hope In A Drought-Filled Year
by Andrea Calvert
For me, reflecting on 2025 is filled with moments of excitement and joy, but also moments of deep personal sorrow. Maybe that's why I was drawn to the lectionary reading of Ruth. It’s the resilient story of two women, Ruth and Naomi, daughter-in-law and mother-in-law. After experiencing the deep sorrow of losing their husbands, they find themselves in a period of placing one foot in front of the other, despite the unknown destination.
That's where I found myself a lot this year. After experiencing deep sorrow, I had periods of placing one foot in front of the other, trudging through the mire of grief, and wondering what was coming. Seeking, searching, and ultimately finding rest in the resilience of my faith.
I took my thoughts, feelings, and concerns to God, but perhaps the most impactful day occurred as I sat on my front porch, contemplating God’s creation on a somewhat gloomy morning. Forest fires had been raging through Western Canada, causing a yellow haze to sit heavily across these Ontario trees that particular morning. The atmosphere matched my circumstances. We were in the middle of a drought, and I knew if I walked across the brown grass, it would crunch under my feet.
Yet, despite the haze and the grief of the land, I watched a robin, likely one of the babies that had flown the coop from the nest above my front door earlier in the spring, hopping around my front yard. I pondered it as it stopped every once in a while to pick up food from the ground. However, this plucky little robin met its match when it came to a rather large but apparently delicious worm. I watched as it struggled trying to pull its morning breakfast from the ground. Eventually giving up and hopping away.
With that memory in mind, it's not hard to imagine the drought that Ruth and Naomi were experiencing in their lives as they made their way back to Bethlehem. Couple that with the uncertainty of what they would find when they got there, and I’m sure it felt like a season of hopelessness. Perhaps they were asking questions like, “Where are you, God?” or “Why are these things happening?” A famine caused Naomi and her family to leave Judah and become foreigners in Moab. Now she was returning as a widow, with only her widowed daughter-in-law accompanying her.
Of special note is that Ruth is a Moabite woman, a foreigner, or in today’s language, an immigrant. She accompanied Naomi into a foreign land, and through her loving care, she “by chance” found herself gleaning in the field of Boaz, a relative of Naomi. He welcomes her and provides security for her (Ruth 2:3). I can imagine her relief at being noticed by Boaz. A moment of joy in the drought of grief.
As we observe some of the world events occurring right now, I believe Boaz shares a lesson many of us need to hear again. How he cares for Ruth, offering solace to her despite her status as a “foreigner.” What Boaz does for Ruth goes against many of the patriarchal laws that were relevant in ancient Israel. He embodies the lovingkindness of God in his actions towards Ruth, setting an example we can all learn from.
Through this “by chance” gleaning, the suggestions from Naomi, and the resilient actions of Ruth, God blesses both women. Creating moments of joy and excitement in the midst of difficult circumstances. The reading for today shares,
“So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife. He was intimate with her, the Lord let her become pregnant, and she gave birth to a son.”
(Ruth 4:13, emphasis added).
From my experience as a mother, I know it’s not that easy. I understand the excitement that the birth of a new child brings. However, I recognize that this is also a period of waiting that is filled with a myriad of emotions. Everything from the excitement of discovering pregnancy to the fear of giving birth. From the worry with each test, to the elation of hearing the baby’s heartbeat for the first time or seeing them on the ultrasound. The disbelief when you feel the first kick, then the worried prodding of your distended belly when you don’t feel movement. Pregnancy, like most things in life, is a process. It can’t be narrowed down to two distinct moments - conception and birth - because it’s so much more than that.
Mixed with the excitement of becoming parents is the realization, and perhaps grief, that there are some parts of your life that have ended. As a woman, you marvel at what your body accomplished, and you grieve as well. Maybe you loved being pregnant and are sad that it’s over. Maybe you’re happy it’s over, but you’re sad that your body doesn’t quite look like it used to. Perhaps you grieve the loss of a full night’s sleep but are filled with joy in the midnight feedings as you gaze at your newborn baby. The resilient nature of being a parent is evident in your ability to keep going despite your apprehension and fear.
The story of Ruth becoming pregnant makes me wonder if 2025 was a “pregnant” year for me. It was filled with the ups and downs of all that pregnancy can entail. From the drought of the first trimester, where you can’t figure out why you’re so tired all the time, and there’s nothing to demonstrate what’s going on in your body. Where your energy is like walking over the dry, crunchy grass, and you wonder when it’s going to rain again. To the refreshing feeling of the second trimester, when you start to feel like yourself again, and you get excited because finally others can see what you’ve known all along. The rain has come to give life to the earth, showering from heaven. Finally, the third trimester, where concern can start to creep in. The extra weight you were excited about before starts to become more difficult to carry, but there’s the anticipation of meeting the little person you’ve been connecting with all along.
Pregnancy reminds me that in those moments of desolation where it seems like things aren’t changing, and the only thing you can do is put one foot in front of the other, something is happening. So, yes, 2025 may have been a pregnant year. We may feel the bleakness of world events weighing heavy on our hearts. But like Naomi and Ruth, if we take one step at a time, we may experience the joyous occasion of the birth of something new and hopeful.
I’d like to conclude by finishing the story of my plucky front yard robin because I think it also demonstrates resilience in the midst of frustration. A few minutes later, they hopped back over to where that worm was and reaped the harvest from their previous effort, enjoying the biggest feast of their morning.
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