Early in our marriage we didn’t have much, but I did have my diamond ring, a symbol of my husband’s love.
I had placed my rings on the kitchen counter before I began washing dishes. When finished, I went to retrieve them. My heart skipped a beat when I saw a bare counter. I looked on the floor. No ring. I got on my hands and knees and checked every inch of the floor. Still no ring. My hands shook as they held my spinning head. I pleaded, “Oh God, please help me find my rings. You know the number of hairs on our heads. You know where the rings are. Please show me.” I went from room to room, searching every nook.
When Glenn came home from work that night, I explained between sobs and broken words, “Rings…can’t find. Looked…everywhere. Forgive me.”
Glenn tried to console me. “Maybe when I get my vacation bonus in a few months, we could replace them.”
I looked at my bare ring finger. I knew there was nothing else we could do, but wait. I went to bed with a heavy heart.
The next day I needed to wash clothes. I proceeded to turn on the cold water faucet, but it did not respond to my efforts. The washing machine was wedged in between the kitchen counter and the back door. I nudged the machine away from the wall so I could obtain a better grip on the faucet. As I did, I noticed something sparkling on the floor. I took a closer look and gasped with joy as I found my wedding band and my diamond ring.
I thanked God for answering my prayer. This incident revealed to me how much God cares about the little things in our lives.
Thank you to today's guest blogger for sharing with us all!