Jeff and I were engaged in October of 2008, and for several months prior while we custom designed my ring, and for every day since, I have absolutely loved this hunk of precious metals and gems that
he gave to me in love. He worked hard for every last penny that he laid down so he could walk out of the jewelry store in complete ownership, debt free. His choice to do that always makes me so grateful and proud of him. This ring we have is 40-plus hour work weeks, sweat, tears, love, creativity, individuality and unity all wrapped around in one engraved, size 7, split-shank, filigree, white and yellow gold, diamond-encircled, 5 carat aquamarine. It's so much more than just a one-of-kind piece of jewelry, it's a part of our journey, and it's virtually irreplaceable.
Imagine my disappointment the day I looked down at my ring finger and finally realized it was bare after a day at the beach. It was pretty clear to me that we would either find my ring and everything would be fine, or we never see it again; in a way, the complete clarity of options was comforting. That's not to say I wasn't really worried or downtrodden and I felt a good measure of regret for even wearing my ring to the beach (I normally never do), and then for being so silly as to take it off and try to stash it in a zippered pocket of my bag for "safekeeping." I simply felt peace that comes with certainty.
Krista, Sawyer and I went to the beach at dusk to look for it. We prayed. We sifted through the sand from where we sat. We retraced our steps. We crawled around peering through piles of gravel from the parking lot. But in the fading light we were confronted with fading hope, and returned home ring-less. It was a long night spent thinking about the tides.
The next day Jeff and Sawyer went out to rent a metal detector for the day and took it the beach. I was helping set up for dinner when they came back, both with sad faces, but something about their body language and the light behind their eyes told me that there was a cover up going on. I knew who would crack first, so I asked Sawyer about what happened. He was surprisingly discreet, so I had to turn my attention to Jeff, who has always been a notoriously dreadful liar. But he held out too, and it was only that Sawyer kept patting Jeff's pocket every so often that I finally discovered what they had: my ring!
They had uncovered it within 10 minutes of searching, right where we had been sitting and later sifting the day before. Here's the kicker: it was below the watermark. The tides I had fretted about washed over it but hadn't carried it away. Instead, it was buried an inch or two under the sand. It was a beach week miracle!! (the first of several, with honorable mention going to the cessation of the flu, lasting long enough for us to drive home before anyone else began spewing)
Jeff got to propose again, this time in front of family, who had been praying with us and felt all the joy that we did. Well, maybe we felt a teensy bit more. It is after all, a ring that has always been all ours.
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