Such a simple question really. “How’s your day going?” I could have deflected but the truth always comes out, so I suppose I wasn’t too surprised when out of my mouth came the words, “Well, I threw away my wedding ring.”
As many family tales do, it all started with a sick child. With all symptoms pointing towards the nasty all-encompassing rotavirus, there was much to be washed and I was the number one person to do so. Finding little delight in the task and squatting down beside the plastic basin I focused on the task at hand. Yes, I know that in Africa the proper way to wash clothes is to bend from the waist, but the Asian heritage I’ve picked up won’t let me adapt in this way. Regardless, my hands were still slick from the detergent as I wrung out the various items and then found a nearby towel to rub off the rest of the slickness. Then the healthier of the two boys helped me dump the water down the sewage drain. Still healthy myself and feeling quite accomplished, worthy, and blessed, in spite of the contagious sickness, I picked up the ringing phone pleased with my efforts. Saying hello I noticed a white tanless band around my ring finger instead of the usual silvery metallic that was part of me. As my wife’s voice and her question sunk into my consciousness my mind raced with logical possibilities of what happened to the ring. With fading hope I reasoned that the ring was thrown down the sewage with the rest of the soapy water. It was the best time to tell her the truth.
What I was not prepared for was laughter. She laughed as I unfolded the events, but she laughed hardest when she knew it was not an unusually amusing anecdote. And that just hurt. Here I was pouring out my sorrow, feeling as if my earned blessing had been dashed from me, and all she could do was laugh. I just didn’t get it. This ring has lived with us on four continents and traveled twice as far. It was part of my confession of love and commitment to her that began when I picked it out in a crowded little store outside of Insa-dong in Seoul, Korea. The ring was necessary.
So after I hung up I got the boys and we dredged the sewage lines. Not necessarily the best thing to do with two sick children. We searched through the dirt, mud, and leaves outside around where I had washed and I even had the boys look inside. I thought of the parable of the lost coin as we swept the house and moved dust from point A to point B. Finally, no doubt frustrated by forced labor, Michael’s suggestion was to buy a new one. So knowing a friend who was going to Korea in a few days I quickly did an online search only to discover that this was not going to work. I dug out the promise ring my wife had given me upon receiving her engagement ring but it was impossibly too small. My last hope rested in a matching ring I had picked up in Afghanistan when I got my wife’s engagement ring. The lapis in it had broken years ago, but I knew I could fix it and upon her return that day show her that I was just as committed as ever. All I’m prepared to tell you is that there was a super glue incident and two of my fingers became one. After fingers were separated, the boys took a turn for the worse, and suddenly the ring was not a priority.
Now as I sit in a Nairobi Hospital outpatient clinic next to a sick child, my wife’s laughter can be seen in the right perspective. Yes, that ring held a lot of sentimental value but it was no more than an object to symbolize a relationship. Any relationship based upon symbolic objects and material things is not a very deep relationship. Relationships are complicated enough without bringing in objects to clutter your view and perspective of what really matters. I’m sure my wife laughed because she knew this already. The blessing was the relationship not the object. And the object was not the blessing, or byproduct, because of the relationship. How much more so with God. God blesses us not with things based upon our efforts or symbols of our commitment, but rather His blessing is His presence. And I presume there is joyous laughter when we realize this. In sickness or in health, good times or bad times, I am blessed because I am in a relationship with God.
Some time later Peter, our gardener, knocked on the door and presented me with my lost wedding ring. We laughed. In the African way, bending over and looking straight down, he discovered the ring as he was sweeping the dirt behind our house. Considering myself already blessed, I felt content.
nehrely there 