Why couldn’t I cry over losing the diamond in my ring again...I had lost the original engagement diamond some 30 years before and don’t remember crying then either. What was it about losing something so precious that still didn’t warrant tears?
I noticed the lightness of my left hand as I was coming up the hill to our home. My hands were on the steering wheel when this dismal realization encompassed me. I froze momentarily but held my emotions in check. Not now. I went into the house to give dad the oil change receipt with the words, “I lost my diamond.” Groan. No use looking, he said, it could be anywhere. But I had to. While dad started cleaning the floors and checking the bathroom rubbish, I retraced my steps to the gym, remembering that I had uncharacteristically torn off my gloves before the last floor exercise. I checked the back corner where I stood, unsuccessfully. Honda was a wash, too.
I’ve combed through my laundry, the dirty towel hamper where I toss my gym towels, my makeup drawers, my bed. I finger through the marinaded chicken I had prepared the night before, then stop. I refocus on the pickup time for Maddy and Elly. It is Wednesday after all. Life goes on still. Over the next few days I filter my thoughts with another realization: God knows exactly where it is. In His Wisdom it will be lost or found. In my wisdom, I am to sift through what is deemed truly precious. I admit that I searched the Internet this morning to see lessons learned from others who have experienced this kind of loss. It is from a Jewish woman’s words that I hold on to (she did cry) TheJewishWoman.org:
I realize that G‑d is in control of everything. This thought is not a misty realization, a mirage that evaporates with the heat of my tears. I feel in the depths of my soul that if G‑d wants me to have something, I will have it, and if not, I won't. I know that I can suddenly find my diamond in the box of tissues on my bedside table. If I don't, I'm not meant to have it any more. I focus on everything I do have.
I noticed the lightness of my left hand as I was coming up the hill to our home. My hands were on the steering wheel when this dismal realization encompassed me. I froze momentarily but held my emotions in check. Not now. I went into the house to give dad the oil change receipt with the words, “I lost my diamond.” Groan. No use looking, he said, it could be anywhere. But I had to. While dad started cleaning the floors and checking the bathroom rubbish, I retraced my steps to the gym, remembering that I had uncharacteristically torn off my gloves before the last floor exercise. I checked the back corner where I stood, unsuccessfully. Honda was a wash, too.
I’ve combed through my laundry, the dirty towel hamper where I toss my gym towels, my makeup drawers, my bed. I finger through the marinaded chicken I had prepared the night before, then stop. I refocus on the pickup time for Maddy and Elly. It is Wednesday after all. Life goes on still. Over the next few days I filter my thoughts with another realization: God knows exactly where it is. In His Wisdom it will be lost or found. In my wisdom, I am to sift through what is deemed truly precious. I admit that I searched the Internet this morning to see lessons learned from others who have experienced this kind of loss. It is from a Jewish woman’s words that I hold on to (she did cry) TheJewishWoman.org:
I realize that G‑d is in control of everything. This thought is not a misty realization, a mirage that evaporates with the heat of my tears. I feel in the depths of my soul that if G‑d wants me to have something, I will have it, and if not, I won't. I know that I can suddenly find my diamond in the box of tissues on my bedside table. If I don't, I'm not meant to have it any more. I focus on everything I do have.