To celebrate June as the traditional month of weddings, today’s story is about a diamond engagement ring.
Once upon a time, a young man took a young woman to a jeweler’s to look at engagement rings. She had her finger sized (just in case) and looked at a display of diamonds and wedding sets. Her favorite was a diamond solitaire that was so brilliant it glistened in the overhead lights. Not a full carat, but very beautiful.
A few days after the visit to the jeweler’s, the young man stopped by his beloved’s home. On bended knee, he asked her to marry him, and he presented her with the ring in a little pink box. She was thrilled, and accepted his proposal.
She showed off her new diamond to family, friends and co-workers. Their “ooh’s” and “aahs” over the diamond made her very proud.
Through several years of marriage, two children and added pounds, that diamond remained a constant presence in the woman’s life. She had only to glance at the diamond to know that she was loved by the man with whom she was walking through life.
One afternoon the woman took her young son to the grocery store. As she pushed the cart, her son played “semi truck” with it. This involved pushing and pulling on the little front seat, adding the loud noise that the “air brakes” made. As they rounded a corner, the mother’s finger was caught in the “air brakes,” causing instant pain.
Not wanting to make a scene, the woman quietly finished her shopping and left the store. She was halfway home when she glanced at her ring finger, as she always looked at the diamond glistening in the sunshine. A sick feeling entered the pit of her stomach as she realized the diamond was gone. She knew instinctively that it broke off when her hand got caught in the “air brakes.”
When she got home, she told her husband what had happened, hoping he would be understanding. Maybe he could find it if he went back to the store. After all, whenever she lost one of her contacts on the bathroom floor, he was the one to find it.
Alas, he was not very sympathetic to her loss. “You’ll never find it now,” he said. She had to try, so she returned to the store. Searching every inch of the aisles turned up empty. Sadly disappointed, she returned home.
Unfortunately the diamond was uninsured. The warranty was invalid, since returning to the jewelry store to get it inspected and cleaned every six months had been inconvenient. The diamond was lost for good.
You’re probably guessing that I am the woman in the story. I cried that day when my beautiful diamond was torn from my finger. I didn’t blame my little son. He was simply playing a game he’d played before. I did have to deal with forgiveness towards my husband for not returning to the store to help me search for it. And I had to deal with forgiveness towards myself, for not following through with the warranty requirements.
Even if we bought another diamond to replace that one, we could not replace the sentiment in which it was given. The gift of love that promised a lifetime of happiness could never be replaced.
I pretty much accepted that I would never have another diamond. So I was very surprised and happy when on Christmas Day my husband presented me with a little burgundy box. Inside I found a one-carat diamond solitaire.
Whether he realized it or not, my husband was reaffirming his love for me with his gift. His action told me that if he had to do it all over again, he would still choose me.
Because of the first situation, we were careful this time. However, we had a mishap with the ring that almost lost it forever.
On the way to church on morning, I was applying lotion to my hands. I slipped the ring off and laid it in my lap. Then it was gone. I yelled at my husband to stop the car and help me search for it, but he didn’t. Half mile down the road, I finally got him to stop. I opened the door and got out, which was a mistake. After searching the car, we didn’t find it. We turned around, too upset to go on to church.
As we drove home, a song played on the radio. The song that says the Lord is more precious than gold. I knew that was true, but I prayed silently, “Not this ring, Lord. I don’t want to lose this ring.” A glance at my husband showed his disgust over the incident.
Before we arrived home, I realized it might have fallen on the ground when I got out of the car. I talked him into returning to the place where we had stopped. We searched through a couple of inches of snow. We had almost given up hope when I brushed the snow lightly with my foot. A glint of gold shone through the white. It was my ring. I picked it up and put it on my finger. Rejoicing, but subdued.
Fortunately, this story had a happy ending.
P.S.: The ring is now insured.