The night was still over Bethlehem, the air rich with the scent of harvested grain. Inside their small home, Naomi turned to Ruth, her eyes filled with hope and quiet determination.
"My daughter," she began softly, "should I not seek a home for you, that you may be cared for?"
Ruth looked at her, waiting.
"Boaz — the man whose fields you gleaned in — he's our kinsman," Naomi continued. "Tonight, he will be winnowing barley on the threshing floor. Wash yourself, anoint with perfume, and put on your best clothes. Then go down quietly. Don't let him see you until he's finished eating and drinking. When he lies down, notice where he rests. Go, uncover his feet, and lie there. He will tell you what to do."
Ruth's voice was steady and full of trust. "I will do whatever you say."
That night, Ruth prepared herself just as Naomi had instructed. The moonlight shimmered faintly over the threshing floor, where Boaz worked, separating grain from chaff. After a long day, he ate, drank, and laid down beside the heap of barley, his heart content.
Silently, Ruth approached. Her footsteps barely stirred the dust. She uncovered his feet and lay down.
Around midnight, Boaz stirred, startled awake. His eyes blinked in the darkness — and he saw a woman lying at his feet.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice low but surprised.
"I am Ruth," she replied softly. "Your servant. Spread the corner of your garment over me, for you are a kinsman-redeemer."
Boaz's expression softened. "The Lord bless you, my daughter," he said. "You have shown even greater kindness now than before — not running after the younger men, whether rich or poor. Don't be afraid. I will do all that you ask, for everyone knows you are a woman of noble character. Yet… there is a kinsman nearer than I."
He paused, thinking carefully. "Stay here for the night. In the morning, if he wishes to redeem you, let him. But if he does not, as surely as the Lord lives, I will redeem you myself."
Ruth stayed quietly at his feet until dawn, her heart steady in the silence. Before anyone could recognize her, Boaz said gently, "Don't let it be known that a woman came to the threshing floor."
He then said, "Bring me the shawl you wear." Ruth held it out, and Boaz poured six measures of barley into it, wrapping it for her to carry.
When she returned to Naomi, the older woman leaned forward eagerly. "How did it go, my daughter?"
Ruth smiled softly, recounting everything Boaz had said and done. "He gave me these six measures of barley," she added, "saying, 'Do not go back to your mother-in-law empty-handed.'"
Naomi nodded, her face calm but expectant. "Wait, my daughter," she said, "until you see how this will turn out. The man will not rest until he has settled this matter today."
And with that, the dawn rose — a new beginning on the horizon for Ruth, the faithful Moabite, and Boaz, the man of honor.