Last month, I lost the diamond out of my wedding ring — an irreplaceable family heirloom. It made me feel sick when I glanced down at my hand while dining in a local restaurant and noticed it missing, for how long, I didn’t know.
Years earlier, my husband’s grandmother had taken the diamond off her own finger as soon as Doug announced his intention to marry me. She reached over, patted me on the knee with a twinkle in her eye and said, “Then we’d better go get the ring sized.”
Nanny and Poppy drove us to Taylor Brothers that very morning, then Doug “officially” proposed on bended knee in their living room as soon as the ring came back from the jewelers.
A rare antique cut, the diamond had been in my husband’s family for over 120 years when it was given to me (and almost 150 years when I lost it two weeks ago).
As soon as I realized it was gone, I called my mother and asked her to pray that it would be found. I also posted a prayer request on Facebook, where I received an incredible amount of encouragement from friends there, many of whom had lost-diamond stories of their own to tell:
- One of my friends lost her ring at Walmart, and some good Samaritan turned it in.
- Another friend had found her lost diamond two years later, in the mouth of a whale in a pop-up book that was on its way to Goodwill!
- Someone else lost a custom-cut, heart-shaped diamond IN THE OCEAN while honeymooning in the Caribbean. If that isn’t about as hopeless as it gets, I don’t know what is. Yet her husband spotted it wedged in the crevice of a rock on the beach almost two weeks later, the day before they were scheduled to fly home.
Even friends who hadn’t lost diamonds promised to pray and gave great suggestions for searching:
- Hunt in the dark with a flashlight
- Empty the vacuum bag
- Check your dryer lint trap, sink bin, clothes closet
- Thoroughly search the car
- Make sure it’s not caught in your broom fibers
Of course, I thought of a few more places to search on my own:
- In the bed linens (maybe it fell out in my sleep?)
- Under couch cushions (no diamond, but I did find several pennies and ink pens)
- In the fishbowl (I emptied out all the decorative rocks in the bottom and searched one by one)
- In the flower beds (I’d spent a couple of hours there, trimming back ivy and azaleas the day before)
- In the garbage disposal (It’s a cramped, slimy job, but the peace of mind was worth it)
Unfortunately, my diamond didn’t surface through any of that, but I kept praying, kept hoping, kept looking….
I also did a little therapeutic writing. I began a (not-yet-published) post about a diamond I lost forty-two years ago and the lessons I learned through the experience. (Watch for that story soon. It still makes me cry every time I tell it.) And I wondered what lessons God might be trying to teach me this time around. Here are a few I’ve identified thus far:
- The insufficiency of good intentions:
My house has been in need of a deep cleaning for some time now. It has been on my to-do list for months, yet I lacked motivation to follow through with the job. In the past two weeks, however, I’ve cleaned out closets, organized drawers, scrubbed counters and cabinet fronts, dusted baseboards, defrosted my freezer, vacuumed under furniture, and culled through, sorted, and put away all manner of misplaced miscellany. My lost diamond provided just the boost I needed, as I’ve always considered systematic cleaning to be the fastest, most effective way to find things.
The lesson, I think, is that we should go ahead and do the thing we know we need to do, instead of waiting until something drastic drives us to it. (James 4:17) Let’s reduce our stress levels before we have the heart attack. Let’s invest in our marriage before the divorce papers are served. Let’s get in shape before our health fails. Let’s make memories with our children before they grow up and leave home.
- The value of hope:
My big-hearted husband was completely unfazed by the fact I had lost this priceless heirloom. Being the think-outside-the-box sort of guy he is, he took me straightaway to the jewelers, ready and willing to trade in what was left of my wedding set for something entirely new and different — and more than a little surprised that this idea was not met with more enthusiasm on my part.
But thankfully, thankfully, the jeweler convinced him to wait. “You’re going to find it,” he assured us. “Give it a few days. I’ll bet that diamond will wink at you. When it does, you can bring it back in, and we’ll repair it for you.”
Isn’t hope an amazing thing? It gives us peace when we’re troubled, strength when we’re weary, and courage when we’re frightened. That jeweler’s confidence, together with the testimonies of so many friends whose lost stones had been miraculously restored, served to buoy my faith that I’d eventually find mine, too. (Hebrews 10:23-25)
- The heart of God:
The Bible tells us that Jesus “came to seek and save that which was lost.”(Luke 19:10) Only, He wasn’t searching for something as insignificant as an inanimate rock. Oh, no! He’d set his sights on eternal souls — Christ came to redeem you and me.
That sense of urgency I felt about finding my lost diamond? The concern that it might be lost forever? The determination to stay alert to any sign of its whereabouts? How is it that I can retain such focus when it’s a shiny little stone in question, but am often oblivious to the infinitely more valuable treasures all around me? Those lost sheep Christ came to save. People are more important than things, and the way I live my life should reflect that fact.
- The importance of checking those prongs:
This wasn’t the first time I’ve lost that diamond. It also fell out fourteen years ago while our family was on a 2500-mile road trip. That time, it was miraculously recovered a week later by one of our children — subsequently dubbed “Diamond Dave” — who spotted it under the back seat of our Suburban amid broken crayons and cracker crumbs at a pit stop in Virginia.
The stone was originally set with four prongs (which held up remarkably well considering all the scrubbing, painting, kneading, and digging I’d done with that diamond on my hand); however, we decided to remount with six, assuming that would be sufficient to keep it safe. Obviously, it wasn’t. Had I been smart about it, I would have taken my rings back to the jeweler more routinely, so he could inspect the prongs and make sure everything was still secure.
A similar thing sometimes happens in our spiritual walk. We get baptized in infancy or pray a prayer in childhood and mistakenly believe our future is secure because of it — regardless of how we’ve lived our lives since. We know that God saves us by grace through faith, and not because of any works done on our part (Ephesians 2:8-9), yet we are still called to bear fruit, and that fruit will only come when we are in close communion with the God who produces it. (John 15:1-8) If we are smart about it, we will check in with Him routinely, allowing Him to inspect us, prune us, and keep us secure in Christ.
- The power of prayer:
Isn’t it amazing that through prayer, we have the privilege of conversing with the Creator of the Universe? I am so blessed to have so many friends and family members who are willing to pray with and for me, even about the little stuff. And I am so grateful to serve a God who promises that when we pray, He will hear and answer (Matthew 7:7-8). Sometimes He answers right away. Sometimes He asks us to wait. With respect to my diamond, it was enough for me to know that God knew exactly where it was (even if I didn’t), that He could keep it safe, and that He would give it back to me if doing so would be for my good and His glory. (Romans 8:28)
As it turns out, between all the prayers and all the cleaning, my diamond finally did resurface. Praise the LORD! It had evidently fallen out in our bathroom where it rolled under a cabinet and into a small gap in the grout between the tile and the wall (there’s one more place to check if you ever lose yours!). I’d already swept the bathroom several times in search of the lost stone, but because our pastor’s family was coming for dinner Saturday night, I decided to lay down on my stomach to scrub those hard-to-reach tiles by hand. I still couldn’t see it, but the diamond was there all the same, safe and sound, just waiting for my fingers to dislodge it from its hiding place.
Now, isn’t that a happy ending?