We’re taught that it isn’t polite to eavesdrop, but when I’m standing in a line, or at the counter at the post office, it’s really hard not to overhear other’s conversations.  Today while I was finishing my transaction at the counter at said post office, a young man next to me was trying hard not to lose it while expressing his frustration at the fact that a package he had come to claim had been lost.  The package apparently contained an engagement ring that he and his fiancée had chosen – or had designed – while in Hawaii together.  I got from the discussion I overheard that he now had to explain to her, in another city and state, that his proposal would be without “the ring that she specially picked out, and was shipped here so I could give it to her when I proposed…” or something to that extent.  The postal clerk was trying to explain that as the package was insured, he would not be out the cost, and his point was that it wasn’t the cost that mattered – it was the sentimentality of the item.

Which brings me to the point of all of this… or at least you probably hope it does…  It’s nice to have beautiful things.  It’s lovely to have beautiful things that have sentimental and important meaning to you.  But the fact remains that they are just things.  As my husband and I approach our 30th wedding anniversary, I realize more and more how lucky I am to have him; not what he can provide for me.  And I wanted to say to that young man in the post office: “hey, it’s only a ring – at least you still have each other.”

When I got back into my car to head to the office for a couple’s therapy session I had scheduled with a young couple dealing with the possible end of their relationship, I couldn’t help but look down at my own left hand, at the simple gold band that matches the one on my husband’s ring finger that we exchanged so many years ago, and at the simple, ½ caret solitaire next to it.  How many times have I looked at that solitaire and thought how nice it would
be to have something bigger, fancier?  As it was, the diamond solitaire I have was my 10^th anniversary present, not an engagement ring at all.  But by giving me that ring, it was like my husband was saying he’d marry me all over again.  And my accepting it (even if we did pick it out together) was my way of saying “yes, I’ll marry you again… and again, and again….”

When I think about how important  material things seem to be to people,  I can’t help but think of the times my husband and I have weathered a health crisis where he was near death, or what and how much I would have given up just to have him with me (which fortunately I still do); when our second daughter was born and was ill and had to remain in the hospital – what wouldn’t we have given up to have her whole and healthy (and thankfully, she is…); when my new grandson was born prematurely, but breathing on his own, then overmedicated by a nurse’s error in the NICU; unable to come home day by day, but finally at home, beautiful, growing and mellow and happy (wow!  How’d they luck out on that???), what wouldn’t we give up if it meant  that those we love stayed close and healthy, and we could reach out anytime we wanted and give them a hug, or a  phone call and say, “hey?  How are you doing?  I love you.”  Not everyone can do that.  And we’ve all see those news stories in the wake of a natural disaster where people have literally lost everything except for the clothes on their backs, only to say “we’re all safe and that’s all that matters…” and yes, isn’t that all that really  matters in the end? 

So maybe a young man somewhere is dreading having to tell his fiancée, whom he loves so much he’d rather die than let her down; that her beautiful, special, cherished ring is gone forever, but at least he still has her around to tell.  I admit that there are times I’d like a bigger this or a fancier that… but when it comes down to it, I really do have everything I need.  Take a look around… do you have everything you need?  Is it different from what you want? And think about what do you really need?