Some things, we keep...

I found a note in my son's Bible today while we were doing his "quiet time"- reading about how God made everything. It was a note I wrote on an envelope to my husband during a church service when we were engaged. It read, "The rainbows remind me of God's promises every time I look at it."
It was a note about the stone in my engagement ring. Every time the light caught it the prisms would bounce back colors like Ivy on the side of an old house.

The last time I saw my wedding ring was May 28 last year. The thought that I have lost my wedding ring hit me so hard this afternoon it brought tears to my eyes. Again.

To the person who found my wedding ring:
I want it back. You will never be in those stores; finally beside someone who says your name like they know you. You will not eagerly wait for it the morning you find a note on your windshield that's damp with dew written about the sunrise. And that day won't be the wrong day.
You didn't have dead flowers in the pots on your porch and you didn't get a kiss on your cheek while you cried over the funeral you had to have over those damn flowers.
You won't be pushed in to a river with snakes- and not be afraid of them for the only time in your life because of who was beside you.
You won't fight at Noodles or on Easter.
You will never have to find yourself the most selfish you have ever been, realizing you just wanted something bigger and prettier- and then GET it and be humbled to your bones.You will never see the look in that man's eyes when he proposed to you. You will never have it put on the wrong hand out of nervousness. You will not give it back to him before the wedding with your cold feet.
You won't make mistakes you are still learning from.
You won't pace with it in your room the night before you get married in Hawaii- calling out to God like a lifeline and see a lighthouse- and then sleep.
You won't choke during communion, and remember Amazing Grace like a 4th of July.
You won't see the war waged over addiction, long-cold nights that could have killed our spirits, the way the cat wanted to go outside or the words you wore like colors on the walls like kids.
You won't forget how to love someone. You won't still be loved even when you forget.
You will not buy your first house with that ring; have your first child.
You will not twist it on your finger while you are bleeding on a towel praying God's very breath over your unborn child on the way the hospital in a snow storm.
You won't hear your son cry first for the first time after 40 hours of labor or sleep on his floor when he is sick with that ring.
You will not ever understand the story of that treasure- even if you now think it's your ring.
And what I am learning over the past year- is that it was never my ring. It's our story. And it's all still there- right where we left it. In the corner of our hearts, still mending at times, still growing. When my finger was bare last spring, it made me realize how much I want the story, not the stone. It breaks my heart deeply not to have such a gift, a banner of love- so-to-speak, anymore.

But I saw that note- and I realized that only God could save a marriage with a lost wedding ring.
The reminder of his promises are still complete.
The only ring I want is the one I am given- and I don't care if it's a piece of glass. It will still be ours.