My ring reminds me that my parents’ love is always with me. I used to wear my pink ice ring on my left hand ring finger. On September 11, 1997, it got moved over to my right hand to make room for my engagement ring. Just as a daughter’s love for her mother and father – and their love for her – never goes away, neither will my pink ice ring. I will always have a place for it. It may get “moved over”, but it never gets “put away” for good.
I got my rings repaired last week. My wedding rings had gotten too small – a half size too small – thanks to my last pregnancy. Or maybe it was thanks to fifteen years and five pregnancies? Anyway, it was so exciting to get them repaired! The pink heart ring was given to me by my parents when I was sixteen. I had circled it in a catalog and placed it strategically in their path. A subtle hint of what I was hoping to get for Christmas. My tactic worked, because I got it! It was called “Pink Ice”. Don’t you just love that name? When I was sixteen, “pink ice” was all the rage. This ring is special because my parents gave it to me so long ago. It is also special because it saved my finger.
It’s an interesting story. My husband and I got married on Friday, January 2, 1998. On Sunday, January 4, 1998, we went to our first church service as husband and wife. We had borrowed his dad’s brown Chevy truck for some reason. As I was climbing into the truck, I placed my right hand on the edge of the roof for support as I got in the passenger side. Terry was opening the door for me. I hadn’t yet moved my hand when BAM! He slammed the door before I’d moved! The weight of the door came crushing against my ring finger on my right hand, squeezing my pink ice ring tightly around my finger. I pulled my hand out, somehow, and sat hunched over in the seat. He didn’t even know what he’d done until he got in to drive. One look at my ring – and finger – and he was aghast! He helped me pull it off and off we went to church. Later, he took some pliers and pulled the ring back into more of a circle shape. Miraculously, it didn’t damage the stone! It did loosen it, though, so I was very careful when wearing it from then on. Finally, fear of losing the stone became too great. I stored it away for safe keeping until I could get the stone tightened.
You know how inconvenient it is to go to a jewelry store to get a pink ice ring repaired? Well, it must have been hard for me, because it took thirteen years! When Terry said, “Let’s get your wedding rings fixed.” I immediately remembered my pink ice ring, patiently waiting in my small brown jewelry box. It cost me only $4 to have it tightened and polished! I now have the pleasure of wearing it once again!
My pink ice ring is a special to me in many ways:
It is a reminder of my parents’ love. They bought it for me just because I wanted it. It was not a symbol of purity, like many girls get from their parents, it was a symbol of unconditional love. Though, purity was something my parents taught me with their lives, that’s not what this gift meant. I just meant “love”. (And I did go to my wedding altar pure.)
My ring is a reminder of the strength of my parents’ love. My parents had to be strong to raise me. Just as my ring withstood the pressure of a truck door slamming against it, my parents withstood my stubbornness, lovingly guiding me onto the path of life.
My ring reminds me of the beauty of my parents’ love. Dad is in heaven now, but whenever my ring catches a gleam of light and reflects it, I remember the twinkle of his eyes. With every sparkle of sunlight shining onto the pink stone, I’m reminded of the spark of my mother’s wit and wisdom.
My ring reminds me of the stability of my parents’ love. The dolls they gave me are stored away, some of them have a few stains. Though I do still enjoy looking at them and remembering my childhood, that part of me didn’t last. The host of other toys they bought me are long gone, too! But the gold of my ring has lasted. The beauty of the pink, sparkly stone is something I still think is pretty. I will love it, and enjoy it, until the day I die. Just like the love of a mother and father for their child. It has stood the tests of time, the trials of life, and it will last.