Running Toward: Lost and (not) Found

It’s dark and dreary as I sit here writing this. The boys are eating a snack next to me and while I’m mentally noting that I will need to vacuum my floors (again) after they finished making mounds of crumbs with their crackers and my little girl is napping.

Our weekend has been a quiet one. Most of the spare time has been spent turning our house upside down looking for my wedding rings. After searching our entire recycling bin, every bag of garbage, the vacuum cleaner bag (no surprise…full of crumbs and cheerios) and under every possible surface we could find…they’re still missing.

To say that my heart is broken over this is a bit of an understatement. There really isn’t a word that could accurately describe the ache in my heart right now. Yes…they are just rings. Yes…they are replaceable. And yes…it is by far not the end of the world. But to me, these rings represent so much more. They represent the vows and promises we made to each other nearly 9 years ago. They represent the struggle that marriage can be. They represent the highs and the lows of what it means to do life every single day with someone else by choice and not out of obligation. They represent our joys and sorrows, our losses and gains, our laughter and our tears.

More than any of that, what they represent to this insecure soul of mine is that these rings were picked out with me in mind. Not for someone else but for me. They represent being chosen by someone else, being accepted and loved by someone else, being good enough and measuring up in the eyes of someone else. When I feel doubt or insecure or socially awkward or am in a constant state of being measured against some ideal I can’t reach, be it parenting, relational, work, athletics, they remind me that someone thinks I am good enough and loves me in spite of my failings and wants to stand by me in every situation and embraces all my multitudes of quirks. They represent a time where I was chosen and set apart, not overlooked and set aside because there was something or someone better. As an insecure person who struggles to embrace the skin I’m in, they were a tangible piece of comfort and with them gone, I can’t help but feel a bit less complete.

It’s entirely possible that these rings will turn up again. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in 30 years. And as much as they represent something amazing in my life, I know that this life I have isn’t going to fall to pieces because I don’t have them. I won’t be more insecure without them (thank goodness for that!) and I won’t be more confident with them. I’m still the same person and what they represent to me doesn’t change in their absence.

But I still really, really, really hope they turn up somewhere soon.