Our Sister, Ruth

February 9, 2020

It looks so sad to be writing this.

Ruth and I came from a very long way. She and I were best friends. We sat in the same class from nursery up to college level. We lived together as sisters, not friends. People used to consider us as we were from the same parents, now no one will ever take her place.

We shared clothes, food, even as far as money, a room, books, etc. I always keep every document of ours but it looked so, so sad when she was sick. I didn’t know that sickness could separate us totally.

Today and forever in my life, I will never get a friend like Ruth. We were patient with each other. We loved each other because we were only 6 years old when we came here. Ruth and I promised each other when we get big and get married, she would be my maid of honor, and I too could be hers. We were always there for each other.
I really miss Ruth everyday, most especially when I am alone. She left her one and only child behind, Thelma, and I promise to take care of her until death do us part. I pray to God Almighty that Thelma will come up in His will and serve Him with all her heart.

I thank her sponsor so much and am asking them to take heart. God will comfort them as He is doing for us. May Ruth’s soul rest in perfect peace as we will meet when we all get to Heaven to celebrate with God our Father.
Written By: Josephine Tokpah

Ruth’s usual spot was on her porch. Cooking, studying, laughing, talking, or just enjoying the day. This porch has been eerily empty since Saturday, January 11th. The day Ruth’s spot would become vacant. And this porch would hold only memories past. It stands to hold more, but not just yet. Not now when it hurts too much. There have been moments of deep grief and mourning but there have also been moments of overwhelming joy and peace. Mourning over this broken world and dancing with joy aren’t coming and going as if you are able to switch a light on and off. They are felt together. Fully. There is a time to mourn.. there is a time to dance (Ecclesiastes 3). The time is here. To mourn the heartbreaking reality of the already and to dance in the hope of the not yet. It is coming. He is coming. To rid away all sin. Tears. Sickness. Disease. And death. Death is often times silent, what is left behind is deafening. So we listen. And we obey. All the while rejoicing in His salvation. We continue caring for and loving the vulnerable. For Ruth. For her life was worth it.
Written By: Molly Koon

Ruth.
It’s a combination of four letters that, taken together, form one syllable. As that word bounces around my brain, I fumble with it as I attempt to categorize it. What does it mean to me? At one time, that name meant something different to me. It represented a girl. It represented a nurturing mother, a beloved sister, a nursing student nearing graduation, a young adult with dreams and plans for her bright future. It represented a dear friend. And as my brain resets how I understand that name, I cringe internally every time I have to alter what used to be a pleasant thought from present tense to past tense.
Ruth is no longer is, but was.
Death is not a “natural part of life,” despite what anyone says. It was never supposed to be this way. God placed eternity in our hearts and created us in His image. We weren’t created to die, but death came. Everything in us craves immortality. Death is the most unnatural part of life. The books of our lives are never meant to end, and whenever someone dies, it is as if that book, which was filled with rich character development, a compelling storyline, and tales of heartbreak, passion, and redemption, has been slammed shut in the middle of a captivating story. We are left feeling empty, confused, and incomplete.
Ruth’s story was rich with life, even though she certainly experienced the brokenness of this world. From a young age, she was taken in by Mother, who raised her in the midst of Liberia’s second civil war. Through her life, Ruth grew into a wise girl who was tough, but not calloused, strong, but not abrasive, thoughtful, but not cold. Her warm smile and soft heart shattered the harshness that so often marks Liberian culture. She was sweet, compassionate, and sympathetic in the midst of a population that is prone to regard other’s suffering as normal. Her smile was the sunshine breaking through dense rainclouds.
And as I remember her life, I realize that her story is not finished; we just can’t see the pages that follow. When Mother took her in, she raised Ruth to love and fear God, faithfully leading her in prayer every (single) morning and guiding her to walk as a Christian woman. Ruth believed this and was committed to it, and that is the hope in which we place our tears. For her heart, like mine, longed for eternity, and we trust that she was granted eternity for her faith. And that is what matters most.
Ruth was a special person to many.
Ruth is a child of God.
Ruth will be a child of God forever.
Written By: Corey Koon