A friend lost his wedding ring. He was playing in the snow with his children, rolling snowballs, and it must have slipped off in the slush. When he noticed the bare finger later, he was worried. First, he and his wife looked through the yard, to no avail. Then when the snow melted, they borrowed a metal detector and combed the grass for a month. But it never
showed up.
Sadly, they gave the metal detector back.
Then winter blew through with one more hurrah, and their family again went out to romp in the cold. His children were rolling a big snowball with warm mittens, and suddenly they saw the shiny ring glinting in the light.
How about that?
The funny thing about losing things, it reminds us how much we value them. To tell
the truth, I have not been particularly appreciative of my own ring lately, but hearing this brought that golden ring into my heart's spotlight.
Most of us have stories about misplaced keys, and wallets, and phones. Then life gets put on hold while we retrace our steps and hunt. The uncertainty is not enjoyable, and yet perhaps it is a gift, too. The energy we expend in hunkering down in pursuit is a way to bake its worth into our muscle
memory.
Plus there is the joy in finding it again.