The Lost Ring

It was one of those days this summer. The boys were driving me crazy, and the only solution was to let the great outdoors work its magic. Who knew it takes so much work just to take off clothes to go play in the sprinklers. Little feet were impatient, making little voices fussy. The number one mission was to lather them in sun screen and get them out the door. I took off my ring, placed it beside me on the couch and beckoned one of the boys over, then the second, and then the third for we had a visitor that day. Mission accomplished, I turned to grab my ring, and it was gone. I asked if any of the boys had seen it, but the answer was negative. At that point I was more desperate to get the herd out the door, that I was sure in my head that the ring would turn up once I had time to really look.
At nap time, I started looking all around, and the ring was nowhere to be found. It had vanished. I wasn’t nervous about what Joe would say, but I was sad because it is the only ring I have. Opting for just one ring six and a half years ago when we said, “I do,” was a way to cling to some of my Austrian ways and a way to cut costs.
Joey and I tore up the house looking for the ring, and then went to bed with plans to look through all the duct work under the house the next day incase Will had thrown it down into one of the vents. I went to bed, my finger feeling naked.
The next morning, I got in the shower, and eventually started to pray. “Lord, I know a ring is not the most important thing in the world, but it means a lot to me, and it’s the most expensive piece of jewelry I own. I really want to find it.”
Once out of the shower, I found myself being rushed along by the demands of little boys. It was going to be a hot day, so the most comfortable and easiest shirt to wear would be the blue tank top. It was hidden under a pile of laundry in my bedroom. I flung it onto my bed as I raced to get something else. Once I turned my attention to the shirt again, I started to unfold it, and there sitting inside the shirt that had been buried underneath a pile of clothes at least for 3 days, was my ring. I slipped it on my finger and fell to my knees in tears of thanksgiving. To this day I do not have an explanation to the location of the ring. But I do know that I have a God who knows my desires and answers my prayer.