That ring on my middle finger was...is...in celebration of our 5th wedding anniversary. Hold that thought... Several years ago, in the midst of our financial collapse, pretty much right before the nervous breakdown that I had, I needed groceries. I wouldn't have felt so desperate, but I remember that my son needed food. His foods were not cheap, nor were they easily substituted. I had already asked to borrow money from my mom on countless occasions and I couldn't bear to do it again, because I didn't feel like I could pay it all back. Ever. My husband was working as hard at as many jobs as he could hold. So, I thought about what I could possibly sell of mine. You're looking at it. I knew my dad's connection to the owner of a local pawn shop, so I went in with my ring and explained that I wanted to sell it to him. He said he couldn't buy it, because he knew he'd never end up reselling it. Those were tough economic times and he was certain he'd be taking a complete loss. People were not in the market for something like that. He was kind and compassionate, but asked if there wasn't something else I could do? Enter full out waterworks followed by, "I can't have my dad knowing I was in here, okay?" and "Isn't there anything you can do?" and "Can you please just help me?" He gave me $100 cash. I immediately drove to the store and bought the groceries. I remember thinking of all the things I would tell my husband. I also remember knowing none of those statements would ease the hurt. But hey, rock bottom is both the ugliest and most beautiful place, right? Rock bottom is where the band-aids are ripped off, the masks are thrown aside, and you're forced to get real. For once. I've seen a few ;)Fast forward to 2017. August, actually. I got to talking with some friends about this ring and the circumstances surrounding it. I wondered if it was true that the store owner was never able to sell it, but I was too proud (chicken) to revisit the store. I didn't want to bring all those feels back to the surface, to remember the nervous breakdown that took place within days after that. Because if you've never found yourself locked in your car in the bank parking lot, screaming, crying, swearing, and punching the roof and steering wheel until a kind and incredibly brave man knocks on your window to ask if you're alright and offers to call an ambulance...well...I feel like you're doing better than I have ;) So, back to this ring. My friend was amazing and offered to go in the shop with me. For me. Whatever I needed. I was like...no, it's okay. I got it. But, I didn't "got it". I chickened out again and hid behind my computer monitor, messaged the shop and asked if they happened to have a 7 stone diamond anniversary ring. "Nope sorry." Just like that. Literal cut and paste. Two words were like a hammer in the chest, but my compartmentalization game be strong, so I stuffed it down. Fast forward to yesterday. For the heck of it. I went onto the website I didn't initially know they had. I paged through. Paged. More pages. "What am I doing with my life? Is there nothing else I could be doing right now? Dishes? Laundry? This is dumb. It's just a ring. It doesn't matter." Until I spied with my little eye...a "Diamond waterfall ring" that certainly looked identical to my ring.
:::breathe:::I zoomed in on the pictures. Scratches on the one side, just like mine. A knick on the front, just like mine. Y'all know how I can't judge stuff in space and I still remember banging that hand and putting that mark in it! I clicked the "purchase" link, which took me to ebay...and I bought it. I messaged my loyal and incredibly lovely friend to share the good news! My ring!!! Can you even? I mean, seriously? How does that even happen? But, as I looked more closely at the description, the size didn't look right. I was sure my ring was larger. So, ugh. It probably wasn't my ring. Or if it was, maybe it was sold, resized, and came back at some point? Either way, my husband said "it IS your ring, no matter if it's 'yours' or not..." Yeah. But. Okay, yeah. I went to bed thinking about how neat it would be to have "a" ring like my old one. In the morning, I would have my coffee and pick up the (not my actual) ring. I could get it resized. Still nice. It's ok. It wouldn't matter if it was the exact ring. I woke up with excitement over picking the ring up today! But, as MS and/or anxiety would have it, I also woke up with some pretty concerning health stuff. No driving for me. A trip to urgent care was more like it. This is why we have kids, right? Sure! My son dropped me off and went to the shop on my behalf, while I got to play with doctors and nurses. Because he is a good boy, he returned for me. As I eased into the passenger's seat, he had opened the box and asked if I wanted to try it on. I knew it wouldn't fit, because of the description and all. It was far more shiny than I ever remembered it. It was so not my ring. It's okay. It's "like" my ring. Close enough.
:::impatient me with 200mph mind that cannot rest:::Meh, why not. I'll try it on. It's not like I need to go to the ER from urgent care. I've got the time... You guys. The description was wrong.
It. fit. perfectly.Just like always. And see? The shop owner *did* end up reselling it. Like, years and years and years later. But still! Thanks, God, for this good day. Thanks for redemption that comes in all sorts of crazy ways. Thanks for being at the bottom of all those rocks right along with me. Thanks for new mercies. Thanks for friends who offer to show up. I can't thank them, or You, enough.