Me Ring

As you know, I live with three males. They are wonderful and delightful and rather messy. The oldest one not so much, but the younger two more than make up for him with their, ahem, vitality. James’ floor is covered in books right now, his bed pushed haphazardly away from the wall so he can hide his little-boy-treasures in the crack. His shirts are half-sucked into his shorts from potty trips. More often than not there’s a sprig of hair poking out at an odd angle, and he baptizes the bathroom each time he’s in the tub with his “swimming practice”.

Owen is the messiest human eater I have ever known. I’m pretty sure his total disregard for where his food ends up is why we had a small mouse problem a month ago. Every time we’re traveling together you hear random “clunks” and if you’re lucky, will see one of his shoes flying by in the rearview mirror. The socks follow shortly thereafter. And nothing makes Owen happier than a piece of ice from the freezer, which he sucks on delightedly as he trots around the downstairs, leaving frigid drips to bless sock-footed grownups.

I, on the other hand, crave symmetry and beauty. I smile when my Rubbermaid containers are organized in their cabinet. (And thankful that those containers are squares and not circles, wasting less space.) I smile when I can slice a fresh loaf of bread into 16 equal slices. I smile when the dishwasher fills with the perfect number of plates, bowls, and glasses, with just enough room for a few extra serving spoons and perhaps a sippy cup or two. It’s just so stinkin’ satisfying!

So on the mornings, like this one, when I’m driving to a thing and the boys are in the backseat wearing what they wore yesterday and insisting on listening to “Life Is a Highway” on infinity repeat, things do not feel beautiful. I glance in the rearview mirror (“clunk”) and notice my hair is askew. When did I last wash my hair anyway? The house was left in the hastened clutter of departure and there’s company coming. Insert the enormous SIGH right here.

I look down at the steering wheel and catch a glint off my left hand. I see symmetry and beauty resting upon my ring finger. Without even meaning to a myriad of memories pushes Rascal Flatts to the background…

Wearing my beautiful ring, newly engaged, in Hale Auditorium for the first time, watching it glisten under the stage lights. Wow! I can’t believe I am wearing diamonds!

Seeing the ring for the first time, held out to me by a terrified young man on both knees, awaiting my response to a question. Oh! It’s a ring! It’s not exactly what I described to him, but it’s beautiful! Wait, I have to give him an answer—ahhh! This is real!

Despite my shyness, having to show the ring to everybody on campus, because that’s what you do at a small Christian college. When one person exclaimed, “That’s such a YOU ring! It’s exactly what I would think you would wear!” I thought, “Really? I’m not sure what a Me Ring is, and I’m Me!”

Thankful in the later months of pregnancy to have both my engagement ring and wedding band still fit. Maybe I won’t be too huge after this kid is born…

Knowing how hard my boyfriend worked to buy me diamonds. Remembering the extra late-night shifts in the graduate school library, the skipped meals and the meals-that-weren’t-meals to save his precious pennies. The pounds that disappeared from his frame, which he absolutely needed for his strenuous bike commute and trumpet playing.

Seeing the pride in his face and love in his eyes as he told me that special night, “I knew that I wanted princess-cut diamonds and I knew that I wanted more than one. Because you are royalty and you deserve diamonds.”

Getting all teary-eyed right now…

On days when beauty and balance are far away, all I need to do is glance at my left hand. The trifecta of diamonds (Trifecta means “perfect group of three”—love this!) on a golden circle make me instantly glamorous. The love and sacrifice that they represent is a continual promise of commitment and encouragement. It’s only become more Me as I’ve worn it these past almost-10 years. 

 

Facebook did exist when Roy and I got engaged (hah! I love that I even have to say that.) but I tend to avoid posting cliché pictures: bump photos, engagement pictures, selfies, etc. I’m not shy about sharing the cuteness of my children, but I justify that by reminding myself that I’m doing it for my non-local family. (Because I have 540 out-of-state family members…) ;)

But I’m proud of this ring and I’m proud of all it represents. So here it is blog, a little scratched, a little clouded from scrubbing dishes and little boys’ hair, and positively stunning.