The Rings Around my Heart

It started with the mother's ring on my right hand. Three birthstones set in a row on a band, one for each of my sons, it was a piece of jewelry I treasured almost as much as the boys themselves. I looked down at it at work one day and suddenly noticed one of the stones was missing! Horrified, when I got home that evening I worked the ring off my finger (over these knuckles? No small feat!) and hid it carefully away before telling my family about my loss. I knew instinctively (and correctly!) that the moment my sons heard about it they would rally to find it and figure out which of the three of them was on the “outs” with his mother while the other two were still secure in their standing! For once the merciless teasing was forstalled by my advance planning!

My husband kindly had the ring repaired for me, and a couple of months passed without incident. Then again while at work one day I happened to look down at my hands, and this time it was the band on my engagement ring that had split completely through!

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered to myself. Worn thin after 35 years of life and love and laughter with my husband, it had simply given way. Because the engagement ring was welded to the wedding band, I had to remove the entire set (another miracle!) and took it in for repair at the first opportunity. I chuckled when the jewelry store said they would call with a price estimate on the repair. I knew I'd pay any amount to get it fixed; the rings were simply priceless to me.

Yet the empty feeling on my left hand bothered me, so I dug in my jewelry box for something to wear in my wedding bands' place. I found a ring with a tiger's eye in a simple setting, a piece of jewelry I'd had so long that I couldn't even remember where I got it but liked it enough to keep it all these years. Gladly I worked it onto my finger and was happy to have it till my wedding set was restored to me. It lasted a full week before I happened to notice while again scanning groceries one day that that stone had likewise disappeared, leaving an empty setting behind!

What was it about weighing bunches of kale on a scale and sliding boxes of cereal down a belt that was so hard on my rings, I wondered? It didn't make sense that after eleven years on the job I suddenly couldn't keep a ring on my finger to save my life! It was such a strange occurrence of events that surely there was some message attached to it, one that I clearly wasn't receiving. “I hope I figure it out soon,” I thought to myself. “I don't know how many rings I have left!”

Suddenly, there it was! I don't know how many rings I have left.

The former forester in me remembered that the age of a tree is measured in the growth rings that are visible in a crosscut of the trunk, a ring for every year of life. How many “rings” do each of us have left? We simply don't know.

It's possible to determine a tree's age without cutting it down; foresters carry a tool called an increment borer which removes a core sample from the trees on which the rings are clearly visible and easily counted. But the sample reveals more than just the tree's age. It shows growth patterns in the life of the tree, years in which the tree grew well as well as those in which growth was stunted for some reason by environmental conditions or disease.

We Christians carry a similar tool in our pockets in the presence of the Holy Spirit. It is the mercy of God that before our lives are cut down He gives us the means to examine our past, evaluate our growth and consider problem areas in our relationships with Him and the people around us...while there is still time to correct them! Sometimes He just needs to get our attention.

My ring situation did that for me. The mother's ring reminded me of my joy in my boys, prompting me to keep them close in heart in specific ways and deliberately clear my schedule when the opportunity presents itself for us to get together. Similarly, a marriage can't survive if the joy of the engagement and early years is lost in life's busyness; scheduled fun times with a spouse is a marital must. And who among us doesn't have treasured friends whose faithful love should be remembered, renewed and rekindled with a deliberate effort to stay in touch?

It's interesting that the losses all became apparent to me while I was at work. It's easy to slip into the habit of letting our work situations run our lives and control our time. We can be still mentally clocked in even when completely off the job site, our minds still thinking about problems we encountered and working out solutions when they should be focused on thoughts and people closer to home. It can lead to an undiagnosed type of “attention deficit disorder” which, if left untreated, can prove to be fatal to the relationshps we value the most.

So what can we do about it? There's no oral medication we can take to instantly fix relationshps that have lost their luster. I had to send my rings in to be repaired, a good reminder that we can't fix all of our problems ourselves; we simply need to ask for help from the One who has all the answers. Maybe the Good Doctor will first prescribe a new set of eyeglasses through which we view our life and the people in it. Then He'll work on our heart to get the love flowing freely in all the right directions once more. He'll renew our mind and readjust our priorities so that the most important things...and people...in our lives get our attention first. Perhaps the best treatment is simply to give us a glimpse of the brevity of life, to remind us that we simply don't know how much time we have left. If change is to occur, it has to begin now...today.

Whether or not my jewelry will be repaired in time for Valentine's Day, this year I'll be thanking God for the gift of three broken rings that redirected my love and attention to those in my inner circle...while there is yet time to hold them close.

“whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.”

(James 4:14 NKJV)

Switched Seats

Photo courtesy of Mark Bridge

I tried.

I really, really tried to pay attention to the action on the ball field, but, as usual, the actions of the people seated around me proved to be too much of a distraction.

A huge baseball fan, a natural gift for my husband on his birthday were tickets to a game at the local ballpark. Not just any game, this was a match-up between two long-time rivals, the Cincinnati Reds and the St. Louis Cardinals, two teams battling to reach the top spot in the Central Division of the National League. My oldest son was slated to go with him to the game, until his responsibilities at his church called him away on that particular weekend. I got to go in his place.

To be honest, I argued with my husband on the matter. Surely he should pick one of his friends who likewise love the game and who are knowledgeable enough to engage him in good conversation on the subject between innings or when the action on the field is slow. Jim knows from past experience that such battter chatter is not something I excel in. He teases me often about not knowing what sport is being played in front of me, let alone which teams are engaged, simply because I am so fascinated by the sights and sounds of the ballpark itself.

If our seats are high enough, there is all the action on the nearby river to watch, just visible over the far side of the stadium – the barges going up and down with their loads, boats doing the same, or people on jet skis chasing each other as the sun dances off the rippled water. Inside the park there are multiple electronic signs flashing messages to catch my eye, as well as the scoreboard itself, a media marvel so encompassing in the information and entertainment it presents that there is really no need to look at the field below it at all.

I am most distracted, however, by the people around me, from the vendors selling their wares up on and down the stairs to the interactions of the people seated in the rows surrounding me. By the time a game is over I find I've been entertained not by a baseball game so much as a life story I've picked up on in the nine innings or so that it's played out before me. I've identified the major players and learned their positions in the unfolding drama, information I can't help but glean from the conversations that take place just inches in front of my face.

On this particular day there were three. To our right sat a couple from nearby Columbus, and it soon became apparent they were not rooting for the local franchise. Bravely they wore their Cardinals t-shirts in the midst of a sea of Cincinnati red, loudly cheering on their team and laughingly answering the angry glares and stares of the local crowd by becoming ever more vocal. Their team was thumping ours, and they were loving every minute of it.

Below us to the left was a family of four which included two young boys obviously visiting a major league stadium for the first time. Sporting jerseys still fresh from their packaging and alternately holding hot dogs and mitts in their hands, they were clearly awed by the experience and enjoying every minute of a day they would never forget.

It was the family to our left that got to me, however, a mom and dad using a trip to the ballpark as a means to connect with their college-age daughters, boyfriends in tow. Because of the long-standing rivalry between the two teams, tickets were in short supply, and they hadn't been able to purchase six seats together. The best they could do was to get the four beside us and two in the row in front.

Determined not to let the separation deter him, the father continually initiated conversation with his daughter nearby, bending low to speak with her as she leaned back to respond. On and on they chatted about her recent engagement, friends they'd seen lately, even the amount of beer being consumed. Clearly the game on the field was just the excuse this dad used to catch up on what was happening in her life.

As the score became more and more unfavorably lopsided, the stands began to empty out. The out-of-towners to our right decided the lead was secure enough to allow them leave the game and beat the traffic home. With seats now open beside us, my husband tapped the daughter on the shoulder to offer her our spots beside her family. Pointing to the man sitting to our left, he jokingly asked her, “Do you know this guy?”

“He's my dad!” she responded, then laughed as she realized we'd figured that out. Gladly she accepted and was soon seated beside him, the free flow of conversation and love facilitated by the move and continuing once more.

It turns out it wasn't just a ballpark scenario after all. Sometimes in the game of life our eyes are so fixed on the field of play that we don't realize that the final outcome has a lot more to with relationship than points scored.

Many years ago I was the daughter whose heavenly Father was tapping her on the shoulder continually. He, too, appeared to have a lot to say about the details of my days...who I was dating, the friends I was hanging out with, and, yes, even my alcohol consumption. I occasionally looked His way to answer Him back before turning in my own direction once more, yet doggedly He pursued me.

I am forever grateful that a friend walking through life beside me took the time one day to tap me on the shoulder, point to God, and likewise say, “Do you know this Guy?” I realized I knew a lot about Him, having been raised in church and all, but I didn't really know Him. Carefully it was explained to me that the distance separating the two of us was the sin in my life, and that Jesus was offering to switch me seats. He would take my spot on the cross so that I might be seated beside my Father in Heaven. Gladly I accepted, and have been gratefully rejoicing in the love of my Father and the easy and open communication with God ever since.

It's important that we deal with the question now, because we can be certain that we will hear it again. When the game of life is over in this world there will be a moment of accountability in the next. Victory or defeat will be based on the answer we give when asked about the One seated on the throne, “Do you know Him?” How wonderful it will be to reply, “He's my Savior, my Joy, my Life, my Hope, my Strength...”

In other words, “He's my Dad!”

“Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?' Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'”

(Matthew 7:20-23 NIV)

Broken Boards

The back door opened and Nina bounded outside, thrilled to be released into the brilliant sunshine and fresh air of another gorgeous California morning. An active German Shepherd pup, as she trotted the perimeter of the enclosed back yard, she could smell the Labrador Retriever in the yard next door, and stopped at one particular spot of the fence where the wood was rotten and breaking apart somewhat, giving her the best access to the tantalizing odors coming from the other side. She pressed her black snout hard against the barrier and breathed deep, then snorted a time or two before pressing even closer and inhaling deeply again. And suddenly, she felt the weakened wood give a little. Instinctively she moved in again, pushing a little more eagerly, the presence of the dog on the other side a magnetic force that pulled her growing frame hard against the boards between them.

Suddenly the wood gave way. With her head already through the hole, Nina was quickly able to push and wiggle the rest of her body to follow. Unfortunately what she met on the other side was not the dog she’d been dreaming of, but his owner, instead, who just happened to be coming down her back steps in time to see the intruder coming through. Quickly she hustled Nina back through the hole and blocked it somewhat before hollering to her neighbors that the barrier had been breached and they needed to bring the dog inside.

My sister owns the German Shepherd as well as a terrier of sorts named Sam, and shared the story of Nina’s Great Escape in an email in which she detailed the difficulties the broken fence now presented in their lives. The easy solution was to nail a board over the damaged section, but it was obvious that a larger scale repair job would have to be done over the weekend, weather permitting. There would be a span of several days in which the fence would be torn apart, so my sister’s family began rescheduling their days to accommodate the need to walk the dogs and take them elsewhere to run and get the exercise they require.

And so it is that many of us have fences to mend in the relationships surrounding us. The best of long-standing friendships can have a weak spot that has developed over time. When one person repeatedly pushes on that sensitive area, the other has a tendency to push back, and the result is an eventual break in the unity between them. At that point sometimes all manner of unexpected emotions come pouring through the gap, widening the break and forcing an eventual separation of two lives that once walked side-by-side in harmony.

The question then arises of what to do about it. One choice surely is to simply do nothing, to let the chips fall where they may, so they say, and leave things as they currently are. But as my sister found out, this requires a surprising amount of work in itself. Lives have to be rescheduled and habits changed to avoid confrontation with the other person, demanding time and attention that would otherwise be devoted to worthier purposes.

Too often we likewise try quick fixes in our relationships, perhaps apologizing for sharp words and offensive actions without exploring the deeper feelings which prompted the anger in the first place. Eventually the underlying issues have to be addressed or they will continue to fester unseen and erupt again somewhere further on down the road.

There are other factors to consider, as well. Mending fences can be an expensive operation. My sister weighed the price of wood and labor against the preciousness of what could be lost and found that she really had no choice - she couldn’t take the chance of her dogs getting out and being injured in some way, possibly never coming home. Similarly it may cost us something to lay down our pride and devote the time and effort necessary to make things right in our relationships. Perhaps the decision is easier when we consider the depth of friendship and the years of memories that could be tarnished or lost forever if we don’t.

The fence is finished now, the repairs complete, and the dogs are running happily in their respective yards once more. In the end it only seemed right that my sister and her neighbor split the cost of the repairs. What’s true with broken fence boards is likewise true in ruptured relationships - both sides share the blame for the break but reap the benefits of a restored one, especially when they work together to make things right.

“I urge Euodia and Syntyche to iron out their differences and make up. God doesn’t want his children holding grudges.”
(Philippians 4:2 MSG)