Everybody has a story: Missing ring makes return just in time for Mother’s Day

Gone forever — at least that’s what I kept telling myself. A special gift, made with love, that I thought I’d never wear again.

Eight years ago on Mother’s Day, my husband and four children gave me a stunning gold “Mother’s Ring,” complete with one sparking stone representing each child’s birth. I wore the ring constantly — even out to play golf with the family on balmy summer evenings.

I soon discovered, however, that it was quite cumbersome to grasp my golf club correctly with this ring on my finger. So, it became my habit to take the ring off and put it in a small zippered compartment in my golf bag. Time after time, I would do this.

One evening before playing a few holes, I paused to remove my ring, as was my custom. I was shocked to discover it was not on my finger. Immediately, my mind raced back over the events of the day, trying to recall where or when I had taken off my ring. I searched through my golf bag; I inquired in the pro shop to see if some honest soul had found it and turned it in. Back at home, I checked every shelf, corner, drawer and crevice in an attempt to locate it. But it was not to be found. That all happened seven years ago.

Each Mother’s Day since, I have reminisced about my lost treasure. It wasn’t so much the ring that I missed — but I mourned knowing my husband, Mark, had put such thought and effort into the gift. He had the ring specially designed at a local jeweler. The saleswoman was Gunda Mitchell, the mom of a high school friend whom I’d graduated with. This sweet German lady is in Heaven now, after losing a courageous battle with cancer.

About a month prior to Mother’s Day last year, I got to missing my ring … again. In a quick prayer, I asked God to help me find it. “You know where it is,” I uttered confidently, “and you know how much it means to me.” But it wasn’t for me to find — God had a different plan!

Our 15-year-old, secondhand clothes dryer decided to go on strike. With a family of six to do laundry for, this was not a happy occurrence. But I had no worries about its tantrum because I knew my handy hubby would come to my rescue. And that he did! With the resolve and fortitude of a prize boxer, he tore into the tedious task of reviving our beast. What a sight Mark was as he began to work. The dryer was pulled out cockeyed from the wall; families of dust bunnies scurried across the laundry room floor; tools were scattered and “at the ready” to perform their duties; and my sweet man was doing his best to make that dryer hum once again.

Unbeknownst to me — in all his tugging and prying — Mark made quite a discovery. There, nestled snuggly in the lint at the bottom of the dryer exhaust hose, something faintly shiny caught his eye. My ring! He plucked it from its hidden resting place and hatched a plan to honor me with it once more.

The dryer dilemma behind us, it was time to prepare for Mother’s Day. Buying cards, sending flowers, going out to breakfast — all part of the festivities. My husband and children have always reserved that Sunday to be with me, and so last year’s celebration took on a familiar feel — right down to opening a few gifts. You can’t possibly imagine my great delight (and despair) as I lifted a small, square velvet box from a lovely gift bag. In the midst of my joy, I began scolding my hubby for spending more money than we had for such a gift as this.

When I opened the box, my breath refused to come. I stared in disbelief, and all I could utter was the word “What?” When I could breathe once again, I begged to know more. “Did you have another duplicate ring made? It looks exactly like my ring that I lost.”

“It is your original ‘Mother’s Ring,’” Mark calmly confided, “only now it looks brand new!” His plan had come off without a hitch, and I was indeed honored — speechless — and then the tears came. (The children had already agreed together that they knew I would cry).

After discovering my lost ring (quite a ways from the golf course), Mark took it back to the jeweler where he had purchased it. He had them clean and polish it until it sparkled like new. How blessed I am to have this very special ring back on my finger! Thanks for your love on Mother’s Day, honey, and all the other 364 days of the year!

Everybody Has A Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Send to neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA 98666. Call Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525.