A few months ago, I looked down at my hand, and in horror, saw that my wedding band was missing a diamond. The band was a gift from my wonderful husband, an upgrade from the tiny diamond band we'd purchased on time payments 25 years earlier.
My heart sank as I reviewed the places I'd been, wondering where the diamond could have fallen out. I knew that my chances of finding it were slim to none. It was just a speck, less than a quarter of a carat, but to me, it represented the continuity of our shared lives together, soon to be 37 years as husband and wife.
I tearfully told my husband, showing him the gap in the band where the diamond was once secured. Of course, he was gracious about it, trying to reassure me that it was no big deal. But to me, it was.
We took the ring to the jewelry store where it was purchased. They had a lifetime guarantee that loose and missing stones would be replaced for the duration, but there was a catch. The patron had to go to the jewelry store every six months to check of the integrity of the settings.
Having owned the ring for 11 years, that would had meant 22 visits to a store across town, about a 40 minute drive from our house out in the country. I hadn't fulfilled that requirement.
Yes, they could fix the ring. The sales associate assured me they could find a diamond of similar quality and their repair would only cost a few hundred dollars. Ouch. We reluctantly left the ring in their expert hands. A few weeks later I picked it up. It looked as good as new.
Months passed. I was in the kitchen yesterday, cleaning under the garbage can which we keep on a step-stool to discourage our over-sized dogs from raiding the trash. Underneath, I saw something sparkle in the grout of the tile floor. The day before, I'd received a Christmas card from an old friend who loves all things that glitter. I dismissed the sparkle as some of that errant glitter from her card.
I picked up the tiny object. I ran to get my jeweler's loupe and examined the sparkling piece of what had looked like debris. It was my missing diamond!
What are the chances that it would ever turn up? It might have fallen out in the grocery store, or while showering or walking the gravel driveway. Maybe while I was pulling weeds. But, to my amazement, I had found the lost diamond.
The repair had already been made and paid for. The feeling of personal loss had diminished.
I had no idea the missing stone would turn up on my kitchen tile floor. I probably swept the floor a jillion times since the stone was lost. Despite having swept, mopped, Swiffer-cleaned dog hair and coffee spills many times over the past few months, right there in plain sight was my missing diamond. A one in a million chance it would ever show up.
It was the most amazing Christmas present ever. A true Christmas miracle.
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