Again?

The first time he lost his wedding ring we were on our way from one reception to the other. It was a 12 hour drive and we were about an hour into it. We had packed the car. We had traded vehicles at the mechanic's. We had dumped our trash into a dumpster. We had gassed up the car. We were distraught. We prayed. We drove back. We found it on the ground by the dumpster. We said we would get it re-sized right after the honeymoon. We never did.

The second time and third time and ninth times he lost it are all a blur. With every succeeding one, I feel a little more callous and a little less deserving of an answer to our prayer. After all, a trip to the jeweler would save us all these faith-promoting excursions.

I looked at the five foot depth of brambles, bushes, lawn clippings, and blackberry bushes where the ring is now and said, "Well, I guess that's that."

Dallin said, "It's got to be right here." A few hours later, he decided to rent a metal detector.

We'll see.

*27 April 2009--Dallin found it. No metal detector needed. Just persistence and faith. He also said we never looked for anything close to a "few hours." It felt like a few hours. He found it where I had been sitting and half-heartedly searching. Ooops. He's on his own next time.*