My mother’s gracious and gentle life ended peacefully some years ago. Even now, with adult children and grandchildren of my own, the warm memory of her love circles in my mind and brings comfort.
I particularly treasure a special reminder of my mother…her wedding ring. I wore it and enjoyed touching it from time to time through the day. Somehow it kept Mom nearby. Not long ago, unconsciously rolling my finger over the ring, I realized that it felt odd. I looked and the stone…my mother’s diamond…was gone.
It is hard to fully describe the agony of that moment. I did not know how long it had been missing or even where to begin searching. The only tangible reminder of my mother’s life had vanished, and a fresh wound of grief was ripped open.
My husband ran to my cry for help, and we searched with growing despair for a precious diamond lost somewhere among the things and places of our lives. Hours later, distraught, exhausted, and hopeless, he held me as we prayed, “Lord, you know our plea. That precious stone is in your hand. Thank you for allowing its use. We will need your grace and care in safe handling the memories it represented. We entrust it to you. Please heal my broken heart.”
The days that followed were hard…missing my mother, sorrow and guilt for the loss of her diamond, struggle to reconcile my emotions.
On the third day after the loss, I stepped into my closet and slipped my foot into a house shoe…you know, the big fluffy kind. I felt an odd irritation under my toe. I removed the shoe and retrieved the annoyance with my finger. It was a small stone…Mom’s diamond.
On the third day, God led me to the exact place…a place unseen, so remote, so unsuspecting as to never have been searched. There with no expectation or hope…he answered my prayer, restored my loss, and resolved my grief.
The lost stone, now in a secure setting, continues to remind me of my sweet Mom and of God’s gift…on the third day.
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