"Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see ~ how good God is! Blessed are you who run to Him." ~ Psalm 34:8, The Message
I remember the Valentine’s Day years ago when my wedding ring took a bad hit while I was helping out in my daughter’s classroom. Later that evening, I recalled the collision between my ring and the filing cabinet, and looked at my ring to see if any damage had been done. I was shocked to see two of the prongs pulled back, exposing the diamond. I touched the stone with my finger, and the diamond fell out of its setting. Somehow, it had managed to stay attached to my ring throughout a very busy day.
More recently, my husband and I took a day trip to our local mountains. I remember looking at my mom’s wedding ring, now residing on my right hand, a small but priceless token of my memories of my dad. He had passed away the year before I got married, and my mom had given me a piece of my dad in the form of her wedding ring on my special day to help soften his absence. That afternoon, I thought about how this ring was a treasured possession because it was one of my only tangible links with my childhood and my dad. I thought about how it didn’t matter to me that the ring didn’t really go well with the bracelet I was wearing on my wrist; both held such sentimental value to me. Later that day, I looked down at my hand and realized the ring was no longer on my finger. My husband and I looked everywhere ~ the car, my purse, the restaurant where we’d eaten, the restroom I’d used, but no ring. I held back the tears as we headed down the mountain toward home. I prayed that someone would find it and that it would be returned to me. Then I found myself praying that if someone found it and kept it, that it would grow to mean as much to them as it had to me. I prayed a prayer of thanks for the many years I had to wear and enjoy it. When we arrived home, I immediately went to the dresser in our bedroom and began searching inside the small glass bowl that was home to my ring when it wasn’t on my finger, hoping that I’d been mistaken about wearing it that day. My sadness grew when no ring was found. Just then, I heard a small thump, as if something had dropped from the ceiling and landed on my dresser. I looked to see what had made the unusual sound, and there on my dresser, about a foot from the glass bowl, was my mom’s wedding ring.
A third incident occurred with a ring this past Christmas season when we were at a party. We were outdoors, and there were quite a few people there. When I got home, I realized that the ring I had worn was no longer on my finger. It was my birthstone ring, a gift from my husband. I sent text messages to all those I knew who were still at the party, hoping that someone would find the ring. Minutes later I heard back from my niece; the ring had been found.
Did God hold the diamond in my wedding ring in place before I discovered the damaged prongs? Did He drop my mom’s wedding ring onto my dresser after I lost it in the mountains? Did He cause someone to find my ring at the Christmas party, in the dark, with so many people around? One could argue that I am just clumsy, forgetful, and extremely lucky to have all of my rings restored to me. But to me, my rings are a daily reminder that I have the Lord watching over me, and there is nothing too small for His watchful eye and loving heart. He cares about all of our losses, and the significance of even the little objects in our lives. Now, all of my rings serve as a beautiful reminder of this fact.