As we sat down for bedtime snuggles, I felt a sharp prick on my finger.
I looked down, and then I screamed.
My wedding ring was broken, it was as if a chunk of it was missing.
Now screaming may have been overdoing it unless this was the third ring.
My first ring was only a few years old when the stone snapped off while setting up a tent.
Some years later my hubby bought me a new ring.
This one lasted only 2 years. It had to be cut off after a wasp stung me in the finger, and my fingers quickly turned to sausages.
Over 6 years later my hubby bought me a new ring.
It lasted only 3 months.
Hence I screamed.
And then I started to cry and sob.
I cried for the disappointment of having waited so long for the ring, for the loss of it, and for the finger that would once again be naked.
Now in the big picture of sky rocketing inflation, losses of jobs and homes, it is a small thing.
But to me it was a very big thing.
It reminds me that I belong, not as in Chattel, but that I have a place beside my husband, just as he has a place beside me, to walk together through all the laughter and tears that we may face in this life.
That God has blessed us as man and wife, and together we are one.
As the storms of life come crashing, I am reminded that I have someone to help calm my storms.
My ring tells me that I am loved, that I was given my husband and children to understand what love is, so that I can understand how much the Lord gave me in his death upon the cross.
I may be vain and it may only be a symbol, but to wear that reminder fills me with a joy.
Gen 2:24 Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. [King James version]
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