Holding Hands

Abigail holds my hand when we are out and about. For safety.  For love.  I can't really remember when Anna stopped 'having to' hold my hand we she got out of the car.  Sure, she still will but I know she can just walk beside me crossing a street.  She doesn't have to have her hand held.  Abigail, still kind of small still needs to.  And frankly, I still need her to.

Today we stopped on our way home at the Jewelry store in town.  I had to have my ring sized.  I thought it was one tiny little task on my to do list. "get ring resized" has been on there a while now. And really, how much could it cost?  

I'm the same exact size as the day I married Scott so what's with my knuckles?  Do they get swollen as you age?

Anyway, this is a special ring.  It belonged to my grandmother.  She talked about it a lot as I was growing up. It was given to her by her mother.  So let's just say this ring is an heirloom with a 'run away to get married' story behind it.

I can't look at this ring without seeing my grandmothers hands.  My grandmother went home to be with the Lord just one year before I married Scott.  My Aunt handed me the ring at her funeral and I held on to it for the year.  And then when it was time for our wedding we used it in the ceremony so that my grandmother would 'be there' too.  It was blessed with our wedding bands and Scott slid it on my right ring finger just before saying our vows and giving me my wedding band.  So to me it's really a second wedding band.  And I've worn it every day of my married life.

This afternoon I took it to be sized and cleaned.  I started to get nervous when there were three jewelry experts looking at it and talking.  They were looking in a 'jewelry microscope' (I'm sure there's another name but it just looks like a microscope to me)  for a long time.  And then talking more.

The jeweler explained to me that this ring was "very delicate"  and that "sizing it would cause it to fall apart"  "because of its age (my grandmother wore it every single day of her married life) it needed extensive work"

They were really nice about it.  And sensitive to me.  I think they could tell I was upset.

They told me it needs 3 new bars and 16 new prongs.  16... just to secure it.  And well, with the sizing it all added up to ... well, too much for us right now.

I thanked them and took my delicate ring (along with the estimate slip) out the door.

I wasn't two seconds from stepping out into the sunlight that I couldn't hold my tears back anymore.  I tried not to cry.  Really, I did.  "It's just a ring."  I told myself over and over.  Just a ring.  But I couldn't help crying.

But it's not just a ring to me.  And he told me that for safety not to wear it until it is fixed.  It made me miss my grandmother, all of my grandparents.  And that part of my life.  The growing up years when it was securely on my grandmothers hand.  And it felt like in that moment, not having that ring to wear was like not having them with me.

And then Abigail took my hand.  Like she always does.  And I thought, "I'm grateful God.  And ashamed for feeling so sad wanting my ring fixed when this little hand in mine is such a gift from you."

Her hand makes my heart heal.



Someday I'll go back and leave my ring there.  Someday it will be fixed.  And even in like an hour I'll stop being so sad about not being able to wear it.  But for now, I think I'll just hold her hand.