The Ring Cycle--Part II

Readers will recall my recently launched series on spiritual lessons learned while losing my wedding rings--read Ring Cycle--Part I for background.

The problem with starting the ring cycle the way I did is that all the other stories will be boring in comparison, but here goes. We used to be members of this amazing camping and swimming park on the Cosumnes River near here called the Van Vleck Memorial Park.

Two of my ring stories start in this setting. The first time, I was with a group of cohousing women on our annual women's night out at the river. I removed my watch and rings, as was my custom, and put the rings on the watch and set them in my car on the divider between the front seats.

We all had a frolicking good time being river nudists after dark in the warm river (with no one else around to see) remarking once again how you can never predict which bodies will look better naked than clothed (it's true: you think you can, but you really can't!).

Afterwards, at home, I realized that one of my rings was missing--one of the diamond platinum set this time, I think the engagement one with the biggest diamond.

Retracing the evening's steps, I figure out (and confirm) that when a neighbor borrowed my watch, the rings fell off it and she thinks there are 2, not 3, she retrieves the 2, putting them on back on the divider, but the 3rd lies lonely and afraid in the cow-trodden grass of the Cosumnes River banks.

The next day I rent a metal detector and convince my friend Jane to take her 4 children and join me out at the river. It is a Monday, not a soul is there.

We locate what we think is the car spot, and crawl on our hands and knees (the children doing the same) looking for the ring. No luck.

We look more, using the detector. No luck.

Hours pass. We get hungry. We had not planned on being here for lunch. I give up looking. I am spent. I drive to the nearest taco bell in Rancho Murieta for sustenance for the group. Jane keeps looking.

While at Taco Bell, my cell phone shows a message has come through without ringing. I retrieve it and it's a very excited Jane, repeating inanely, "I found the ring. I found the ring. I found the ring. I found the ring. I found the ring. I FOUND the ring. I found the RING. I found the ring."

I rush with my tacos and sodas back to the river and we dance on the banks for joy, holding hands in a circle (I think I may have made this part up, but it makes a nice feature to the story).

There it is, the ring, some 100 yards from where we were looking for it. I would have long ago given up if it hadn't been for Jane. She had patience and persistence and a belief that it would be found.

Spiritual Lesson: sometimes to get what you seek, you must ask for help and let go.