Rings of truth and history and love

Last night we saw an older couple digging through a trash can as we hustled by.

Our turn-by-turn directions recalculated, and sent us right back past them. I noticed they’d sorted the garbage into strategic piles. A brisk wind blew and made their task even harder.

“Are you looking for something?” I asked.

“My wedding ring!” the lady replied.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

“I lost my wedding ring once too,” I said. “I hope you find yours.”

I thought about jumping in to help, but they clearly had a system. I also wasn’t all that sure I wanted to stick my hands in that gross barrel. So, I offered empathy instead.

“Did you find yours?” she asked.

“I didn’t,” I said and I twisted the ring on my finger. “But I really do hope you find yours.”

We started to walk away when she shouted.

“I found it!”

We shouted our congratulations and continued on our way, happy for her and impressed with him for digging through the trash with her.

I lost my wedding ring on a family trip to Alabama 20 years ago. I’d broken my elbow a few months earlier and my fingers still swelled up like fat little sausages from time to time. So, at some point, possibly during a 2 a.m. pit stop on the drive down from Appleton, I took off my ring.

I noticed it missing the next morning midway though my run on the beach, so I asked a gentleman I saw with a metal detector if he’d help me look for it. He came right over and went to work but we never did find that ring.

I felt terrible because I knew my husband’s grandma had helped him pick it out.

A few months after I lost my ring, my mom gave me the engagement ring my dad had bought her. For our anniversary, Vince added a wedding band and I wear that ring and band every day.

As disappointed as I am in myself for losing that first lovely ring, I’m also honored to be wearing the second. I know my dad used his signing bonus to buy it just prior to his rookie year with the Packers.

My mom wore that ring for the next 32 years as they raised four kids and doted on their first grandchild. I’m adding my own layers to that ring — the four children we raised, the grandchild we dote on, the blessings to come.

I’m grateful to that woman and her husband for reminding me the true value of wedding rings, the love they symbolize and the memories they hold.