I almost hate to even write this blog, because my story turns out fine, but I have a sweet friend who has a similar story that has not turned out fine. And that makes me very sad.
Jason was out of town this past week and was flying back in on Saturday afternoon. His car had been in the shop the whole time he was gone, so I had to be at the car place before they closed at 5 to pay for the repairs, and then be at the airport at 5:45 to pick him up. We had a wonderfully baseball free day, so I was finally getting dressed at 4:30, and went to put my watch and ring on that always stay on my nightstand. There was the watch, but no ring. Not panicking, I figured it had fallen on the floor or in one of my drawers in my nightstand. I looked as much as I could before I had to leave to go pay for the car. I'm still not panicking, but I am thinking of my sweet friend Cari who's little one tried on her ring many months ago, and it hasn't been seen since. So I thought maybe my little one had done something similar. I asked him if he had touched my ring and he said no very sincerely and quickly, so I moved on. After paying for the car, I came back home and dug through both drawers, pulled everything out from under my bed, walked all over the house trying to remember if I had taken it off anywhere else. At some point, my little one says "Oh yes Mommy, I did try on your ring." Now, I'm panicking. Trying to remain calm, I begin to interrogate him as sweetly as possible. But every time he says something about the ring, its a different story. I took it downstairs, I didn't touch it at all, I left it on the kitchen table, and on and on and on.
Now I have to leave to go to the airport and now I'm in a full blown panic. Jason's flight is late (of course) so after driving around the circle at Hobby 20+ times, I am now picturing never seeing my irreplaceable, made from family heirloom diamonds ring. Jason gets in and asks where do I want to go eat, and I say anywhere quickly so I can go home and look for my ring. I explain the situation which causes him to very quickly and not so calmly interrogate the little one, who is now still giving different answers, only more "I don't know!" answers. We went home, and as we are driving I suddenly remember that the big boys had emptied the trash cans earlier in the day, and I have a trash can right next to my nightstand. So, when we get home, while the little one is still being interrogated, I go outside, pull out the trash bag out of the trash bin, and dump it out all over the patio. And there it is, in the bottom of the trash bag. Such relief! I don't think little one ever actually touched the ring, or maybe he did long ago. He doesn't have a good concept of time. My hubby immediately suggested I put my ring somewhere else at night, so it has moved into my closet, except for that night when I wore it to sleep.
I knew in my head that its just a material thing that really doesn't have as much power as we give it. I'm still married whether I have the ring on or not, but my child's spirit that I may have crushed during the interrogation process is much more precious. Rough afternoon, but he seems to be over it. I am praying that my friend Cari's story ends this way too, someday. I heard a story this week about a friend's relative who lost her ring 20 years ago while doing yard work, and just recently it was found in the garden! It can happen! But if mine had gone to the dump, probably not. Very thankful!