The Book of Ruth

People often ask me if I have a favorite book, and if so, what that book is. Many folks when asked such a question would say that they have many favorite books, and often that answer is followed by the words, "I have different favorites for different times in my life. My favorite book from my college years, for example, is different from my favorite book after my kids were born." And while I would agree with that philosophy to a certain extent, I do, however, have one favorite book that transcends age, life circumstance or genre. My favorite book of all time is "Where the Red Fern Grows" ... yep, forget about all the awarded and proclaimed literary masterpieces of the ages ... my favorite book is one about a little boy named Billy and two coon dogs named Old Dan and Little Ann. The book isn't my favorite because the writing is the best I've ever read, though it is quite well-written. It's not my favorite because it contains a fair amount of suspense, though I must admit that each time I read it, I get goosebumps at certain parts of the story. It isn't my favorite because of the masterful foreshadowing when Billy spent the night in a cave with his newly acquired pups and they heard the wail of a mountain lion in the distance. It's my favorite book for one reason and one reason only ... it's a love story. "Where the Red Fern Grows" is a story about the love between a boy and his dogs, yes ... but it's also a story about the love between the two hounds, Old Dan and Little Ann.

If I haven't learned anything over the last couple of years of my life, I've learned that love can come at the most unexpected times in the most unexpected ways from the most unexpected people. I've known Ruth for many years, so many years, in fact, that I don't know exactly how long I have known her. She's a petite little gal, quite a bit shorter than me which means she's really, really short. I learned quickly after I met her, however, that the shortness of her stature was completely overshadowed by the bigness of her heart and within a few weeks, both Ruth and her beloved husband Virgil became like family to me and my children. Ruth owns a popular gift store here in Kansas City ... a store that got its start in the trunk of her car. Ruth is what my mom would have called a go-getter ... she started from scratch, followed her dream and built a business that is well-respected and admired by many. All three of my children worked for Ruth at various times over the years, both stocking the shelves in her store and doing landscaping at her home. She and Virgil helped to instill the importance of a strong work ethic in my kiddos, but they did something far more important for them ... Ruth and Virgil loved my children deeply, and they made sure my kids knew how much they loved them.

I'm ashamed to say that I hadn't talked to Ruth in a very long time ... I think the last time I saw her was at Matt and Becca's going-away party before they moved to Canada. Though I kept telling myself that I needed to call her and talk to her about ... well, you know ... I could never muster up the courage to do so. While I'm ashamed that I didn't call Ruth, I must also say that I didn't call Ruth because I was ashamed ... yep, go ahead and think about that one for a while. I'll spare you the details as to the how and why of what led up to Ruth calling me on Friday, but I will tell you this ... I truly am thankful that she did. We decided to meet for dinner last night, and I agreed to pick Ruth up at her store. I knew the minute I saw her through the glass door that I wasn't going to be able to hold back the tears, and I was correct ... when she wrapped her arms tightly around me, the floodgates opened. There were still customers in the store, so I told Ruth I would walk around and look for a bit, thinking that perhaps that would help me get my emotions under control. But as I walked from room to room, memories coursed through my mind and made their way down my cheeks. I could picture Virgil in the store ... setting up the Christmas village with his ever-present smile and his easy laughter, and I recalled the last time I saw him before he passed away. I wept as I touched the framed picture of him that sits near the front of the store, and by the time I made my way back to Ruth, I was in full-blown sob mode.

Ruth and I met another dear friend, Mieke, at the restaurant, and we lingered at the table for a long while after dinner talking about ... well, we talked about the big stuff of life. Stuff like unconditional love and grace and forgiveness and compassion and sexuality and morality and relationships and the Bible and God and faith ... we talked about the really, really big stuff of life. Stuff that I would have never imagined I would be sitting at a table with Ruth and Mieke talking about ... stuff from the depths of my heart and the pit of my soul. As I gazed across the table at Ruth, I found myself thinking about books ... about how much Ruth is like a book that is still being written. I found myself thinking about the story within the story within the story of Ruth ... she has so many chapters, so many parts, so many twists and turns along the journey of her life. I found myself thinking how blessed I am to know her ... how she has blessed me time and time again with her friendship and how she is blessing me now with her acceptance, understanding and encouragement as well.

See here's the thing ... the book of Ruth is a love story in the truest sense. The book of Ruth is about the kind of love that, in Ruth's own words, "Doesn't leave in the hard times of life. Love stays and never gives up. Period."

So here's to you, Ruthie and Mieke ... thank you for blessing me in a big, huge, gigantically massive way last night ... thank you for being friends who choose love ... thank you for being friends who have my back ... thank you for being friends who stay. I love you gals ... I really, really do.