If you've seen me lately, maybe you've noticed. Maybe you haven't.My left hand has been bare for about a month now. An entire month: no engagement ring, no wedding band, just a bare finger constantly feeling lighter than it should. That ring has been mine for almost six years now. It's been my identity.
I never take my ring off- except if I'm lifting weights at the gym. Well, if I'm planning on lifting weights at the gym; I leave my ring at home before I leave. When I'm digging in the dirt or scrubbing the shower with bleach--- those might be the other two times I take my rings off. Other than that, they are always on my hand.
Thus the current situation I find myself in: without my rings.
They take a beating. When we went to Austin, Texas in February I took my engagement ring in to be fixed. (Chris, in his infinite wisdom, purchased the lifelong warranty and care "package" and we like dealing with the same jeweler that the rings were purchased from.) Somehow, some time that I don't even recall, I had literally hit the mounting so hard that the diamond now tilted towards the East and no longer sat upright. So, they melted the metal down, built it back up, polished and cleaned and returned to me a beautiful ring in about 48 hours.
Fast forward three months and somehow, I have wounded my engagement ring once more. This time it made me cry. "It's a sign!" I declared to Chris over the phone. (Yes, I am that girl.) During one of the most difficult few days of our lives recently I cracked my wedding band in two. Picture one of those plastic rings that says "one size fits most" that you get for 25 cents in a machine at the grocery store.
I think the metal (we are talking platinum here people, isn't this stuff supposed to be pretty durable?!) has been compromised so much so that with one hard hit into the granite counter top while reaching into the dishwasher it snapped. After two sizings and one "retitling of the four-pronged head" in only five years, it gave way.
I know it will be fixed, mended, made new and rebuilt: All is not lost. But for me, it's easy to just say, "Let's just sell the ring and give the money to charity. I'll wear a silver band, because obviously I can't take care of anything nice." (Slam door, stomp off.....)
This is not a huge deal (we do have insurance too...) But, it has taught me huge lessons about myself.
I want to be married. I mean, I want others to know I'm married. Men, so they will be deterred and leave me alone (some of them anyway). Women, so they will know I've been picked. (I know this sounds shallow, but I realized it was very true.) My ring means that I am loved, that I have a husband, that he takes care of me and thought I was worth a really nice ring. (Gee, this is quite disheartening...) It is a huge identifier for me- and I've struggled with this throughout my entire relationship with Chris, through dating, engagement and marriage.
God has a plan for Chris. God has a plan for the two of us- in marriage- things we can come along side one another in and encourage and support one another through. BUT God has a plan for Stefani too. I am unique. I am worth something. I am valued (aside from Chris). It's hard to remember sometimes. But I'm reminded daily now.
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