Panic Attack

Sunday I was sitting in church listening to a sermon on loneliness. A fairly long sermon, I might add. Thirty-five minutes into it, I looked down and realized there was no wedding ring on my finger. Instant moment of panic.

I was sitting with a friend since my husband was home with sick kids, and I leaned over to tell her I didn't know where my wedding ring was. After a brief moment of sympathy, she said, "You are going to be really lonely."

Great. Did I take it off and set it somewhere? Did it slip off somewhere? I've been needing to get it re-sized for sometime now, but just haven't done it yet.

After church I went home and started a meticulous search for my ring.

On the kitchen counter? No
On the bathroom counter? No
On the nightstand? No
On the dresser? No

I called my mother-in-law because I remembered taking it off at her house two days prior. Is it on your kitchen counter? No.

I ripped apart the bed, the piles of laundry, checked every pocket of everything I had worn for the past two days. When I thought I had looked EVERYWHERE, I told my husband. He was graciously frustrated about it, as I expected him to be.

I gave up my search for awhile, and when we got home from small group later that evening, there was a message on the answering machine. After listening to it, my husband came into the room with a half-smirk, half-annoyed look on his face. For a moment I thought someone had located my ring. Nope, the message said that his coat - WITH HIS WALLET IN IT - had been found in the weight room at the high school. He hadn't even realized he had left it there the day before. I have to admit, although I was hoping that my problem had been solved, I did feel a tad less guilty that he had just done something that could have been equally - or more - financially disastrous than me losing my ring. Of course, his was safe and sound at the art teacher's house. We really aren't typically irresponsible people. Really.

Monday was serious cleaning day in attempts to locate the missing ring. After hours of looking, I had to give up for awhile.

At 4:30 in the afternoon, I hear the voice of an angel from the basement.

"Hey mom, I found your ring!!"

In the basement? Sure enough, there it was in the middle of the family room floor, surrounded by tons of little toys. He had stepped on it on the way to the train table. Why didn't I think to look there?

I have no idea how it got there, when it got there, or why it was there. I don't really care. I only know I will be making a trip to the jewelry store in the very near future.