I almost crashed the car when I saw it. My mother was in the passenger seat doing her best to make conversation, but I could read right through her smile. Right through her attempt to act strong and yet the bags under her eyelids and frail body said otherwise. She was 35 pounds smaller since I last saw her and not because she had found recent friendship with the gym, but because the stress and heartbreak of her situation was eating at her like maggots feasting on dead flesh. Life was missing from her eyes. And her breathing was almost forced—a final effort to hold on. Driving home from the airport, to the home that I grew up in and is now missing one person, I saw it for the first time. She had taken her wedding ring off. My entire life that wedding band wrapped around my mothers finger. I had never seen her finger empty. And I use the word “never” in its truest and full definition—not once was it removed or stored away. It shined for everyone to see that her heart had said yes to another. But no longer is it there.
I still expect to see it shining in the sun. It was simple and delicate, nothing of much extravagant beauty, but it was wholly fulfilling its purpose—a forever yes, a symbolic connectedness from one being to another. I have always been intrigued by the way my mother wore her wedding ring. As kids our understanding of marriage is limited. We have a mommy and a daddy and they weren't family at first but they become family, and sometimes they kiss and its gross and every year they have a day which they remember the first day they said “I do”. And sometimes on the playground, while sitting on the monkey bars dangling our legs we hear of our friends parents splitting because they are angry at each other and other times we see it happen to our own families. We know the facts, but theres little emotion around the subject, and as we grow we learn the purpose, we begin to see the impact of their togetherness and we start to recognize its beauty.
My mother never took her wedding ring off. Her other rings would be cleaned and polished, and yet that one gold band stayed on her finger. In my small child-sized brain I liked the “never and always” part. How the band became apart of her. In my mind it was like a challenge to see how long it could stay on and I became intrigued by the fact that she never had the temptation to take it off—even to see what would happen. This fascination stayed with me as I aged. I started to understand her reasoning, commended her commitment towards the one she said yes to and her choice to never take it off. Over the years the band became worn. Its polish faded, its indent molded into my mothers finger and yet it stayed as a symbol of 25 years together.
So when I saw the ring off my mothers finger I felt gutted. All the things I convinced myself were just a dream became real. It is those moments where I feel most out of control. The unpredictable small details within the larger issue. The random truths unveiled, the missing wedding rings or forced graduation party strategies. Memories of what used to be and is not any longer. A unit torn. An era ended and I new one unknown.
What does this say about commitment, what does this say about marriage and its eternal elements? My mind and heart wrestle with this as I remember the daily joyful yes they once said to each other and the gut wrenching tears that now replace it. Twenty-five years broken with one secret. Twenty-five years and not one year longer. See the wedding band is not the piece that holds everything together. Vows can be exchanged, wedding bands purchased and worn, even vow renewals spoken and yet things can fall and break. This is where we see the difference between man and God. Where man often falls, where wedding bands are taken off and divorce papers signed, He remains.
Jesus said, “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. 25 And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. 26 And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. 27 And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.” (Matthew 7:24-27)
More than ever I understand the importance of Jesus as the solid foundation. A wedding means nothing if the course of the marriage is not continuously sacrificed to the original Creator. When we build our foundation on the rock of Jesus, everything can fall and we remain. If I have learned anything from my mother it is how to walk with a humble heart searching to find meaning in the midst of destruction. She has taught me how to hold on; the importance of standing on rocks and not sand. When everything is taken away. When every part of my world changes and nothing is the same can I still stand? Can I still remember the reason of my existence? Can I still wake up, inhale the air He has let me breathe.
I commend my mother for her commitment. In my eyes she has not broken a marriage. She stayed, she kept her promise. In my eyes she will always be a faithful wife, a loving mother, a woman who sits upon a rock and in time of utter destruction stays standing. I have watched my mother lose everything. Her whole world fallen into the sea and yet she is still living out of a place of love and hope in a future that isn't lead by pain and sorrow. Though the golden band physically removed from her hand, and the indent slowly fading away, her willingness to stay faithful is something I hope to carry with me in my family one day. She has shown me commitment, shown me sacrifice and how to love even when there is no one that deserves it.
