Early yesterday evening I made my weekly trip to Wegman’s, the
NY grocery chain that locals promote as though it’s a main tourist attraction
(and for good cause, may I add – this place is easily the best grocery store
I’ve ever visited, and I have dozens of chains in 7 different states by which to compare!). Among the Garman household staples like milk,
yogurt, and applesauce, I planned on purchasing ingredients for this week’s
menu of Filipino Adobo Slow-Cooked Pulled Pork, Pork Chops with Brown Sugar Apples
and Brown Rice, and for a special stay-at-home movie/dinner date night, fresh
sushi with edamame and seaweed salad.
I had just turned my increasingly overflowing shopping cart
down the seasoning aisle, giving myself a mental pat on the back for so easily
finding an item in this new, absolutely enormous market when my Blackberry let
out that familiar ring. I was expecting
a call from a channel support manager in Chicago, and was surprised to see that
Jeff was calling – I’d only just spoken with him a half hour or so before.
I could tell from Jeff’s pause after my greeting of “Yes,
love?” that something was wrong – and not “I-had-a-bad-day-at-work” wrong, but really, really wrong. When I asked what
was going on, I could hear him try to speak, then immediately heard him struggling
to swallow his words. My heart
sank. Last I talked to him, he was on
his way to pick up the boys from preschool – did something happen to one of my
babies? Was something wrong with one his
parents? Did he wreck his company car? A million thoughts – all horrible, of course
– passed through my mind. Before I could
press him for an answer, Jeff managed to choke out the words, “I’ve lost my
wedding ring.”
My initial feeling was that of relief – when you’ve been
through true tragedy, and we have, everything else seems to pale in
comparison. That feeling was fleeting,
however, and almost as quickly as it had come, it was gone and replaced with a
gut-wrenching, overwhelming desire to cry.
In less than a second I was transported from the wall of
seasonings at Wegman’s to the Jared Galleria of Jewelers in Portsmouth, NH in
the summer of 2007…
I must have spent hours there, carefully and thoughtfully
picking out the perfect ring for my soon-to-be husband. I knew that Jeff preferred white gold, but
also knew that he had a yellow gold chain that he’d worn since high school, so
I decided to find a ring with both.
After speaking with a sales woman, I determined that platinum, instead
of white gold, was the best fit for Jeff – at the time, we were both selling
windows and doors to Home Depot and doing necessary resets – the durability and
low maintenance of this precious metal were extremely appealing.
Within seconds of being shown the platinum and yellow gold
combination wedding bands, I saw it – the one, if you will. Women often speak of trying on wedding
dresses and instantly knowing that they had found the dress for them – the dress
they could see themselves walking down the aisle in, having the first dance in,
having pictures taken in. For me, when I
saw this ring, I could picture placing it on Jeff’s finger then looking up to
see the smile on his face. I have to say that seeing the price tag was a little discouraging, but
I ultimately decided that I would spend less money on the cake, flowers for the
big day, etc, so I could afford to buy this ring for the love of my life.
My trip down memory lane didn’t end there. Naturally, my next memory was of our wedding
day, and seeing that smile I had daydreamed about just a few months
before. Then, I pictured that same ring
on that same hand as it clenched mine, helping me into a wheelchair on a cold,
snowy night in Newburyport, MA., that same ring that cut into my fingers as I
squeezed Jeff’s hand as I listened to his words of encouragement cheering me on,
“One more push, you can do this,” the last words he said before I heard
the first cry of my first born baby boy.
This was the same ring he’d worn through countless
sonograms, during countless high-fives and fist bumps for my awesome jokes or
stellar performances during Saturday morning basketball shootouts in our living
room (toot my own horn much?), and hundreds of twirls and dips during Friday night
dance parties at the Garmans. I loved
that ring, but not nearly as much as I love the man and the memories from our
life together.
If I’m being honest, though, things haven’t always been
perfect…
Marriage isn’t easy, folks – in fact, it’s frickin’
difficult, draining, frustrating (you get the point) at times. And, other than choosing to accept and follow
Christ, picking the right person to marry is the single most important decision
we can ever make. That’s a lot of
pressure, right?
And while so many people, women especially, can’t see past
the excitement of the pre-wedding bliss that is dress shopping, and showers,
and the wedding day itself, I – being the realist that I am – went into
marriage knowing that things wouldn’t always be fairytale worthy.
It was easy to anticipate arguments over what color to paint
the kitchen, which movie to see on the weekend, or what amount of money is too
much for a Coach purse. What brought me back to Earth though, were the things I
couldn’t anticipate – like moving in and out of 5 houses in as many years or
going months, literally months, without a date because your nearest relative or
friend lives over 1000 miles away. I
didn’t anticipate that we’d both get promotions within a month of each other
and be thrown into management roles where we have to learn more and work harder
than we ever have, not to mention that I now live away from home for a week out
of every month. I couldn’t plan for
surgery to remove pre-cancerous cells or a doctor finding a lump in my breast, all
while in my late 20s. I couldn’t have
prepared to have my wildest wish of having twins come true, only to experience the
unshakeable heartbreak of losing a child I never got to hold….
Perhaps more simply stated: it’s easy to anticipate laughter
and love, but much more difficult to anticipate life.
While this would probably make for world’s worst wedding
toast, the silver lining is this – Sunshine without the rain is a desert, and
it’s the valleys, the hard times, the arguments that make you all the more
appreciative of how blessed you are to have that one person in this world who
loves you more than life itself…
I have that.
I screw up… a lot…
but to quote my father, “marrying that man is the smartest thing you’ve ever
done.” And despite the many ups and
downs of our time together, I’m just so thankful that of all the women in all
the world, Jeff picked ME. He’s not
perfect, and neither am I; but we’re perfect for each other.
I’m so thankful to have a husband who shares common
interests, who has ambition and a passion for life in the very same way I
do. A man loves new experiences and is
teaching my children discipline, respect, to seek adventure, and to love their
momma more than anything on Earth.
All of these thoughts overwhelmed me and I forced myself to
return to reality in hopes of avoiding a public meltdown – after all, I’m new
to town and any number of the Wegman’s patrons could be a neighbor – I continued
down the aisle and took a right, reading the overhead signs trying to find Mott’s
for Tots sugar free apple juice. Hmmm,
if I were apple juice, where would I be…..
Before I could finish my thought, the Blackberry rang a
second time – Jeff again. He’d found his
ring.
I breathed a sigh of relief – out loud I think – and smiled a
little too. Traditional vows refer to rings
as “tokens” of love and affection and I was given an unexpected, humbling
reminder that there are a lot of symbols of love, but symbols without substance
mean absolutely nothing at all.
The past few months
have easily been the most stressful of my life, but I’m so thankful, so
blessed, to know that there are a lifetime of memories that I’ll share with my
very best friend through good times and bad, ‘til death do we part.
With this ring, forever and I ever, I do.
Trying on their masks!
