The Wedding Ring
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series III, Cycle C
I was in great pain. I took off my wedding ring, necklace, and earrings and carefully placed them on the chest next to the recliner. I couldn't get out of the recliner: my back was in too much pain. For three days I had to stay in the recliner and get up little by little, until the day I was well enough to walk to the car, drive to the doctor, and be treated. I was in excruciating pain.
My back problem was solved and within weeks I started to feel better. It was two weeks before I realized that my wedding ring was missing. No one had been in my house besides my family. There was no one to blame: I had somehow misplaced it. My husband and children and I looked and looked through the house. Where was it?
We looked through my jewelry box. We looked in the carpeting around the recliner. We even took the recliner apart, hoping it was stuck in the cushion or stuffing. It was nowhere.
I looked in my bedroom; my husband looked down the heating vents. My children looked in their toy box. Where had that ring gone?
Two years later, we were packing to move. I told the movers and my friends who helped me pack to be on the lookout for a wedding ring: a band of four small diamonds across and another band with two smaller and one larger diamond in the middle, soldered together. I was desperate. My husband and I again searched the house. We didn't find it.
When the moving van pulled away, I looked at the sparkling floors, the vacuumed carpets and the shiny walls. The ring had not been found; I felt a terrible sadness. My husband and I had picked out that ring together. It was exactly the same shape as my mother's and my mother-in-law's wedding rings. I was devastated.
My husband tried to cheer me up. He bought me a smaller diamond ring. But it wasn't the same and often I looked at the empty place on my finger. Where was that ring?
Three and a half years after I lost it, I was still having nightmares about the ring. Suddenly I would see another woman wearing it. Or I would see it floating in a river, flowing away from me. Or I would see it glistening from the ashes in the trash barrel. I decided it was time to put the ring's memory to rest. I would look into buying another wedding ring in a totally different shape, size, and design. I would go on.
I had great difficulty finding a style I liked. I liked the traditional style, the one that I had. I prayed for guidance. Suddenly, in the middle of my prayer, it occurred to me that I had never prayed before for my wedding ring. Could it be found? Could God show me where it was? I prayed in earnest for days.
My filing cabinet collapsed on a hot summer day. I was glad in a way: now I had a reason to organize the files and papers. I was eager to get started and clean up the mess. I was all alone in our new house, singing with the radio, when I reached down into one of the file drawers. Something was shining and I reached for what I thought was a gum wrapper. There, in the middle of my doctor's file, was my wedding ring. I held it up. I couldn't believe it! I was overjoyed.
I had to sit down. I was overwhelmed. I cried. I cried so hard that I laughed. That ring had caused me lots of trouble: I had nightmares over it, I had cried over it, I had tried to let it go. Yet there it was, as beautiful as the day David put it on my finger during our wedding. I cried even more. I was so grateful.
Right then and there, I got down on my knees. I held the ring in my hand and I prayed a long prayer of thanksgiving. Elation, wonder, frustration filled my senses. I was never going to let that little ring out of my sight!
My back problem was solved and within weeks I started to feel better. It was two weeks before I realized that my wedding ring was missing. No one had been in my house besides my family. There was no one to blame: I had somehow misplaced it. My husband and children and I looked and looked through the house. Where was it?
We looked through my jewelry box. We looked in the carpeting around the recliner. We even took the recliner apart, hoping it was stuck in the cushion or stuffing. It was nowhere.
I looked in my bedroom; my husband looked down the heating vents. My children looked in their toy box. Where had that ring gone?
Two years later, we were packing to move. I told the movers and my friends who helped me pack to be on the lookout for a wedding ring: a band of four small diamonds across and another band with two smaller and one larger diamond in the middle, soldered together. I was desperate. My husband and I again searched the house. We didn't find it.
When the moving van pulled away, I looked at the sparkling floors, the vacuumed carpets and the shiny walls. The ring had not been found; I felt a terrible sadness. My husband and I had picked out that ring together. It was exactly the same shape as my mother's and my mother-in-law's wedding rings. I was devastated.
My husband tried to cheer me up. He bought me a smaller diamond ring. But it wasn't the same and often I looked at the empty place on my finger. Where was that ring?
Three and a half years after I lost it, I was still having nightmares about the ring. Suddenly I would see another woman wearing it. Or I would see it floating in a river, flowing away from me. Or I would see it glistening from the ashes in the trash barrel. I decided it was time to put the ring's memory to rest. I would look into buying another wedding ring in a totally different shape, size, and design. I would go on.
I had great difficulty finding a style I liked. I liked the traditional style, the one that I had. I prayed for guidance. Suddenly, in the middle of my prayer, it occurred to me that I had never prayed before for my wedding ring. Could it be found? Could God show me where it was? I prayed in earnest for days.
My filing cabinet collapsed on a hot summer day. I was glad in a way: now I had a reason to organize the files and papers. I was eager to get started and clean up the mess. I was all alone in our new house, singing with the radio, when I reached down into one of the file drawers. Something was shining and I reached for what I thought was a gum wrapper. There, in the middle of my doctor's file, was my wedding ring. I held it up. I couldn't believe it! I was overjoyed.
I had to sit down. I was overwhelmed. I cried. I cried so hard that I laughed. That ring had caused me lots of trouble: I had nightmares over it, I had cried over it, I had tried to let it go. Yet there it was, as beautiful as the day David put it on my finger during our wedding. I cried even more. I was so grateful.
Right then and there, I got down on my knees. I held the ring in my hand and I prayed a long prayer of thanksgiving. Elation, wonder, frustration filled my senses. I was never going to let that little ring out of my sight!
