I am not stronger, I am broken.
I miss my friend.
What was it about Ruth Leatherman that had such a deep impact upon me? It wasn't her death, it was her life. For five years she shared her life with me - her ups, her downs and everything in between. She was genuine without complaining. She accepted difficulties as a season in life that soon would pass. I loved our talks. I'm not a talkative person but the two of us always managed to keep quite the conversation going.
With Daniel in my arms on Friday night I told Ruth of my bizarre experience just moments after his birth. I was exhausted, I was delirious and for a moment I saw Ruth standing in the doorway. I knew she was camping that weekend, but she was in the room with me. Ruth had been on my mind. She had called me while I was in labor but things were too intense for a conversation. Jeremy spoke with her briefly to update her on my status. Ruth liked to know what was going on. In realty the person standing in the doorway was my Doula, Mary Ann - a distant cousin of Ruth.
"Have you ever met her Ruth?" I asked.
She said she had not, so I quickly offered to invite them both over one day to meet.
Then Ruth told of her experience after the birth of each of her children. She was overwhelmed by it all and the joy of seeing her baby brought her to tears every time. She told how she just cried and cried after each birth. She was so happy to bring a life into the world to love and care for.
Two Bible verses come to mind when I think about Ruth:
"...your care for others
is the measure of your
greatness."
Luke 9:48 (TLB)
"...through love be servants one to another."
Galatians 5:13 (ASV)
October 15
"By reason of breakings they purify themselves" (Job
41:25).
God uses most for His glory those people and
things which are most perfectly broken. The sacrifices He accepts are broken
and contrite hearts. It was the breaking down of Jacob's natural strength at
Peniel that got him where God could clothe him with spiritual power. It was
breaking the surface of the rock at Horeb, by the stroke of Moses' rod that let
out the cool waters to thirsty people.
It was when the 300 elect soldiers under
Gideon broke their pitchers, a type of breaking themselves, that the hidden
lights shone forth to the consternation of their adversaries. It was when the
poor widow broke the seal of the little pot of oil, and poured it forth, that
God multiplied it to pay her debts and supply means of support.
It was when Esther risked her life and broke
through the rigid etiquette of a heathen court, that she obtained favor to
rescue her people from death. It was when Jesus took the five loaves and broke
them, that the bread was multiplied in the very act of breaking, sufficient to
feed five thousand. It was when Mary broke her beautiful alabaster box,
rendering it henceforth useless, that the pent-up perfume filled the house. It
was when Jesus allowed His precious body to be broken to pieces by thorns and
nails and spear, that His inner life was poured out, like a crystal ocean, for
thirsty sinners to drink and live.
It is when a beautiful grain of corn is broken
up in the earth by DEATH, that its inner heart sprouts forth and bears hundreds
of other grains. And thus, on and on, through all history, and all biography,
and all vegetation, and all spiritual life, God must have BROKEN THINGS.
Those who are broken in wealth, and broken in
self-will, and broken in their ambitions, and broken in their beautiful ideals,
and broken in worldly reputation, and broken in their affections, and broken
ofttimes in health; those who are despised and seem utterly forlorn and
helpless, the Holy Ghost is seizing upon, and using for God's glory. "The
lame take the prey," Isaiah tells us.
O break my heart; but break it as a field
Is by the plough
up-broken for the corn;
O break it as the buds, by green leaf seated,
Are, to unloose the
golden blossom, torn;
Love would I offer unto Love's great Master,
Set free the odor, break the alabaster.
O break my heart; break it victorious God,
That life's eternal
well may flash abroad;
O let it break as when the captive trees,
Breaking cold bonds,
regain their liberties;
And as thought's sacred grove to life is
springing,
Be joys, like birds, their hope, Thy victory
singing.
-Thomas Toke Bunch
Dawn, you have a beautiful way of weaving your thoughts and memories and hurt and truth into a sweet honor of Ruth and her Lord and a gift to the rest of us. I love how you said it's her LIFE that has impacted you even more than her death. So true!! I can't even describe all the little memories and ways about her that filter into my days and have influenced me for the better. How I will always miss her. Thanks for sharing this.
ReplyDeleteIt blows my mind how one person had such an impact on me in such a short time and to my shame I didn't realize it until she was gone. I too have been influenced for the better when serving my own family. Thank you for your friendship Shelly.
DeleteDawn, your gift of writing blessed me incredibly this morning. I read this while tears were streaming down my cheeks. I love how you mourn her death and yet celebrate her life, and how she lives on through you. What a legacy, and a precious gift her life was to us and to so many other people! I've thought of you so much this week, and the way your life was impacted so deeply that day, one year ago. Thank you for helping to care for Ruth's children.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind words Clarita. It has been good to connect with you and other friends of Ruth that were strangers just a year ago. How wonderful Heaven will be for us all one day when we're not separated by miles, time and sin. Blessings to you.
DeleteThank you Dawn for sharing your thoughts. You've been such a blessing to me. Thanks for your gifts of time and love for us.
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome Mark. You and your family mean a lot to Jeremy and I and we cherish your friendship.
DeleteDawn, thanks for sharing these thoughts with me. You express your thoughts very well. You not only have honored Ruth but our Lord. I hope you know God has blessed you and you have blessed others.
ReplyDelete