I lost my mother’s rings—her wedding bands and diamond. After she died, it took me years before I could wear them. I remember thinking one day, “Mom I have my own wedding ring, I can’t wear yours.” A month later I lost my wedding band in the Wisconsin Dells. I’ve worn her rings ever since.
Last October, I was painting the front porch and working in the garden. I remember taking the rings off outside, but I thought I brought them in. I searched the front and back yard. I searched the house. I stopped looking and thought they would turn up. I’ve misplaced them before and I always find them.
It was a week before Christmas; I searched everywhere I could think of without any success. In February, my husband left town to visit my son at school in Denver. I decided to tear apart our bedroom and look for the rings. I took out every drawer, poured them on the bed and even picked up the dresser to look underneath. No rings. I started to think that they were really gone. I was really sad.
I asked myself would I be okay if I never found her rings. The rings were not my mother, just her rings, and my connection with her was not in the rings but in the memories in my heart.
“Mom, if your rings are gone I’ll be sad, but it’s okay. But if there is anyway you can help me get your rings back, I’d be thrilled. I miss you mom.”
I crawled in bed and went to sleep. The next morning, I opened my top dresser drawer to get a pin out of the small shelf in the corner. I had completely forgotten about my nighttime petition. My mother’s rings were on the top of the pin! I thanked my mother and am wearing her rings as I write this. It was a great reminder to ask for help, not only from those here with me now but also from those you have transitioned from this life.
This week: Remember to ask for help and be willing to be surprised!