The Saga of The Ring

Aside from the obvious Tolkien reference, I have a story to tell.

Back before Christmas, I lost my wedding band. I know how I lost it, but that's a story I'd rather not relate here (as it's a bit embarrassing), but suffice it to say it was gone. Note I said was - but we'll get to that in a minute.

Anyway, the ring was gone. We tore the house apart; went through the dining room, moved the couch in the computer room, went through every conceivable nook and cranny in my warren of a house looking for my most prized possession, the one piece of jewelry that I rarely take off, the very symbol of my union with DH. We didn't find it, even after several days of searching.

So, a couple of weeks before Christmas, DH and I decide that we're never going to find it, it's been consumed by the "house monster" and that I might as well just accept my heartbreak and go buy a new one. That was my Christmas gift for 2007 - a shiny, new wedding band, engraved this time (we couldn't afford it when we got married - they charged $5 per letter, and that was just WAY out of our budget then), and slightly wider, but still, close enough for the average observer. The point was, though, *I* knew the difference. It wasn't the one blessed by our reverend, it wasn't the one he put on my hand and then kissed me to seal the deal. It just wasn't the one.

I got my new ring and wore it with pride, but with a broken heart. I had given up on finding my ring, the ring, and hoped that maybe, someday, if we ever sell this house and have to move everything out, it might get shaken loose and then I'd have it. Maybe.

Then today came. Conman came in with his newest Lego creation, and was showing me how awesome it was, and how it could jump the wrinkle in the rug that covers the television cord that crosses the floor. I was in my normal mode, answering, "Yeah!" and "That's cool!" without really looking, paying attention but not. All of a sudden, I hear:

"Oh my gosh! Mommy! Mommy! Look! It's your ring!!"

My mouth hit the floor. He slipped it on his hand, on the finger that I wear my rings on - the "Wedding finger" - and rushes to my side. I pull off my engagement ring and the replacement and he, like his father ten years ago, slips the ring onto my finger. I almost cried.

I hugged him and hugged him and showered his face with kisses. I picked up every quarter I could find on my desk (because somehow, kisses didn't seem reward enough) and handed them to him. I hugged him some more, kissed him some more, and professed my undying love for him. He then asked, "What are you going to do with the other one, Mom?", to which I answered, "Well, I'm going to wear them both together. And when you get married some day, I'll give you one of them to give to your wife. How's that?" He said, "I think that would be really neat, Mom. Thanks!"

So there you have the saga of the ring. Miracles do happen...even little ones.