Memos from the Middle

Sisters of Divergence

The photo albums from my teenaged years are fat with smiling faces of skinny brown girls. I remember the timidity of forced poses for mothers and aunties who wanted to capture the youthful nonchalance. I remember giggling mischievously as we walked arm and arm in short shorts and cropped tank tops. I remember pretending not to notice the boys noticing us as we rode buses and trains all around Chicago, going nowhere of consequence. But as I flip through page after page and remember events not captured by photograph, I wonder what ever happened to those fast friends I made and lost so long ago.

I just finished reading The Darkest Child by Delores Phillips. This haunting, heavy book sucked me into its vortex from its first pages, and I was instantly invested in the lives of the two main characters: a teenaged girl, Tangy Mae Quinn, and her mother, Rozelle. On the last day Rozelle intended to work as a maid, she announced via resignation letter that her daughter, Tangy Mae, would be taking over her position because by Monday she would be dead. I laughed aloud at the absurdity of her divulging her impending death to an employer without giving her own daughter, the one scribing her dictation, a heads up or explanation. But when I read the last words of this book, after a harrowing rollercoaster that takes “mommy issues” to a whole new level, I wondered what ever happened to them, that mom and daughter, and all the other characters I had known intimately but only for a little while.

I know Phillips intended to write a sequel. She died before it was complete. Someone published a few chapters of it, but I did not purchase that. I want to put a bow on the Quinn family, and “unfinished” means no resolution exists.

Perhaps I brought this longing for resolution to my Bible study experience this week. I have been examining sisters of the Bible during this Women’s History Month, and the story of Orpah’s parting from Ruth and Naomi left me staring more intently at the one whose story is left untold. What ever happened to Orpah who decided to go back to her own family?

Well, there is lots of ancient speculation and interpretations that portray Orpah as a witch, condemn her to a life of promiscuity, or name her as the mother of Goliath. All of that certainly is interesting, but the opening chapter of the Book of Ruth itself has the following things to say about Orpah:

1. Orpah, like Ruth, rose with Naomi to return to Judah after all three of their husbands had died (v. 6-7).
2. Orpah was kind to Naomi and the men of their family just as Ruth had been, and Naomi prays that as a result of their kindness that God deals kindly with them (v. 8).
3. Naomi further prays that Orpah and Ruth find security (or rest) in another marriage (v. 9a).
4. Orpah and Ruth weep loudly when Naomi kisses them goodbye (v. 9b).
5. Both Orpah and Ruth initially refuse Naomi’s request that they go back to their own people (v. 10).
6. Naomi’s compelling, practical argument about why living with her will be harder for them (v. 11-13) convinces Orpah to depart from Naomi, but the decision was not without sadness (v. 14).

As Christians, we speak of Ruth’s loyalty and willingness to walk into the unknown to follow a woman and faith unlike those of her homeland. We are taught to admire her and cling to God like she clung to Naomi. But if we are honest, our actual lives mirror more of pragmatism and desire for the familiar that Orpah displays when she turns to return to what she knows. Whether the interpretive theories advanced about Orpah are real does not matter. Ultimately, we know what happened. She lived life as a Moabitess. She worshipped their gods and moved through life in the culture she was convinced was best for her given the fogginess of the one before Ruth and Naomi. None of that makes her a bad person just as we are not “bad” simply because we forgo stepping out on faith and remain in our comfort zones.

But the what-ifs of life do leave us wondering if we missed out on something better. What might have happened if Orpah decided to go along with Naomi and Ruth? What if Phillips had lived long enough to finish that sequel? What if I had kept in touch with those smart, funny girls who smile back at my older self from the pages of photo albums that mean something only to me?