I had a realization this morning. Miracles happen everyday regardless if we notice or acknowledge them. However, it is usually at moments in our lives when we need help of some sort that we see them best. Connection, if life were always easy we'd be blind to the miracles of God's hand in our lives.
I agree.
I have been praying for many miracles recently. Sometimes it is something as simple as "Please, help me to be patient with my toddler today" but often times it is a bigger plea--for this baby to be healthy, for our finances to stretch far enough, for us to be able to make it through this year.
With all the sacrifices that have come with this pregnancy, I must say that the hardest has been the loss of my wedding ring. I don't know that many people outside of me and Scott and Kevin ever knew that it was missing...mostly because I was so heartbroken I just couldn't talk about it. I couldn't even write about it. I could only pray about it.
I lost a lot of weight in the beginning of this pregnancy--and as my body tried to store fat in more important places, it disappeared from my feet and calves and arms and neck and my hands. My fingers shrunk more than one ring size. There were many days when I didn't wear my ring precisely because I was afraid of losing it...but then one day I remembered some advice that my mother gave me right after I got engaged. She said that you can't lose something if you are always wearing it.
For what may have been the first time in her life, my mom was wrong.
I was wearing my ring when it slipped off my finger without me noticing. All I knew was that one day I was wearing it and the next day it was nowhere to be found. I searched all the places it could be--all the places it had almost slipped off before. I went through garbage cans, searched the lint trap in the dryer, checked all the nooks and crannies of our house and under every piece of furniture. Since I'd had four different appointments that week, I wasn't even sure if I'd lost it at home or at the hospital. Scott called every place I had been to see if they had found it. No one had seen it. We put an ad on KSL.
It was the final straw that week. After spending more than six hours in medical offices, one of which told me I would have to come back and reschedule without even seeing me, breaking a bottle of very expensive insulin, and realizing that there was no possible way any of us were going to come out of this pregnancy unscathed, we figured that my wedding ring was just plain gone and would have to be added to list of sacrifices we've made for this baby.
The guilt ate away at me. How I could I just let that much money and sentimentality fall off my finger without noticing? What kind of wife did that make me? The dark clouds surrounding me started to gather in thicker clumps. I figured I wasn't worth anything...not as a mother, because I was clearly failing at that, and not as a wife, because I couldn't even keep track of the most beautiful gift I'd ever been given in my life. Scott worked so hard to pay for it outright, so we wouldn't have to start our marriage with debt. He spent hours searching jewelry stores along the Wasatch Front, to find the perfect ring (because I refused to go with him). He put his whole heart into that ring.
And I lost it without even noticing.
I started to pray. I figured if it hadn't been found at any of the places I'd been, then it was somewhere in our house. I felt slightly better. After a few days of praying, and being mad that I couldn't fast about it, I started with the mission technique of calling down the powers of heaven. I thought that one day I would just look down and there it would be under the bed--a place I had checked more than a dozen times.
After a week or two, it seemed that nobody was listening. Yet, I still knew God was, because I couldn't look at my left hand and accept that I would never feel the weight of that ring on my finger again. I knew it might take months...years, even...but I knew I would see my ring again. It would only really be gone when we moved away from this home without it. My pleas grew a little less frequent, but whenever I thought about it, I prayed about it. I tried not to hurt when I saw reminders--friends getting engaged, pictures of babies with their parents' rings hanging off their toes, our engagement date approaching on the calendar, our family pictures returned and my hands were so obviously bare. Scott started talking about getting me a new ring--a cubic zirconium just so I had something to wear and I told him I didn't deserve even that.
I kept telling this baby, "I would trade my ring for you. I would."
And I meant it.
This past Wednesday night, I prayed about my ring again. I'd checked a few new places, but it wasn't there. I checked a few old places, but it wasn't there. I asked Heavenly Father, again, for a miracle.
I felt peace, which was the best answer of all.
And there it was, Thursday afternoon. Buried in the dirt and the rosary beads in a planter in our front yard that I'd never touched. I was pulling weeds, trying to clear the debris out of the pot, and I saw it: a round circle of white gold. I knew exactly what it was, even when I had no idea how it got there.
Miracles happen everyday regardless if we notice or acknowledge them. However, it is usually at moments in our lives when we need help of some sort that we see them best.
If ever there was a moment in my life that I needed help, it is the moment I have been living in for the last six months. Life has been so bright and yet so dark at the same time. I have been fighting and floating. There have been times when I have wanted to turn my back on my faith and forget about it, but every time I tried, I found myself running back for comfort. I knew God was listening, even when I thought I didn't see any evidence--but then I looked around and I saw tiny miracles, everywhere: Kevin sleeping through the bulk of the night, our utility bill mysteriously being $30 cheaper this month, my one month supply of insulin lasting two months even with a broken bottle, Scott being able to drop school this semester with no repercussions, this baby moving and growing and looking healthy at every check.
And there, between all the weeds in my life: a miracle.
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