In Which He Refused to Wear His Wedding Ring ~ and the $40 Giveaway!

He didn't wear his wedding ring for maybe three decades.

He repaired computers for a living.  Was frequently tinkering with something or other under the car, hoping to get a few thousand more miles out of it.  Or creating a random widget or gift or project with one kind of power tool or another down in the workshop.

He didn't want to lose a finger.  And ... maybe even more than that, it just was plain uncomfortable for him to wear.

At first I subtly hinted.  And then not so subtly pouted.  And obnoxiously wheeled and dealed, trying without even a hint of success to get that band of gold back on his finger where it belonged.  I even offered {more than once} to buy my non-jewelry wearing man a chain so he could tote my precious wedding gift around his neck.  What was I thinking?

That was so not going to happen.

Over time, I grew up.  We had bigger fish to fry and I gradually became ok with his adamant choice. There was not a shred of doubt in my mind that he was anything but faithful and committed to our vows.  And his steady servant heart demonstrated his deep love to me and the girls in ways that were practical and substantial.

I let it go.

For life was presenting much more pressing scenarios than a missing symbol on his left hand.  And like most nonessentials, it slowly but surely became a non-issue and faded from view.


Fast forward to three Christmases ago.  Cuddled close to my man and surrounded by the enthusiastically noisy gang, their parents, and mounds of gifts interspersed with discarded wrapping paper, I pulled a small black box from the worn toe of my old red felt stocking.  As soon as my fingers wrapped around its four rounded corners, I just knew.

It was his ring.

Just waiting to be placed by this aging bride's still eager hands on her groom's bare awaiting finger.  The fourth one. On his left hand.


Along the way you've gotta figure out what's non-negotiable for you.  What's absolutely worth going to the mat for.  Consider the cost of yet another unsettlingly vulnerable discussion, maybe some bruised feelings or shed tears.

If I've learned one truth, it's this right here.

Speak what's most true about where you are.  Do it with love and respect, clarity and grace.  Without any kind of spoken / unspoken manipulation or pressure or threats.

Maybe do it twice, or even three times if you're particularly passionate about whatever it is.  And then quietly step off your soapbox.  Let it go.  Just let it go.

For good.

I still haven't arrived.  After 40 years, I'm still a student learning how to do this 'speaking the truth in love' thing without repetitively going on and on and on.

Honestly, no desire is worth the ceaseless grumbling, the incessant nagging, the endless hassle, the valuable energy invested as we keep proclaiming our rights and beating the drum of our inflexible, unyielding opinions.  The monotonous litany does nothing but send our spouse fleeing in the exact opposite direction, loosening the sacred ties that bind, unraveling two hearts once strongly knit together.


And then the hard part comes.  

This, the releasing of your spouse and the contentious subject matter to the Holy One who brought you two together in the first place.  The One who has the power and the wisdom to take care of whatever it is that threatens to put a disturbing wedge between you and the one you've committed to share life with.

And wonder of wonders, as we get out of our own way, we begin to lean into the delightful discovery that the same powerful God who spun the universe into existence is more than capable to carry through His wise and wonderful plans with little, if any, help from us.


What have you finally let go of?  Or what still remains, just waiting to be released?

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Anita  .  Kelly  .  Beth  .  Holley