Julie Lyles Carr: Sunday Selah

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Sunday Selah

Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins[a] and loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it?  And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.’  In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”
Luke 15:8-10
There it was.

A circle of gold.



Michael has presented me with a few gorgeous tokens of our marital covenant. My original engagement ring. The eternity bands to bookend it. A beautiful set to commemorate our 10 year anniversary. And then an incredible solitaire for my fortieth birthday.

I love them, love wearing them.

But it is the simple plain gold band he gave me years ago that I favor.

While wrangling babies and doing endless housework and having my hands in diapers and messes on a consistent basis, I wanted a ring that was thin, unadorned and simple. And he gave me a slim gold band to wear on my left ring finger, a ring I didn't need to take off in the joyful chaos of raising hordes of small children.

It's the ring I've worn through the birth of several of the last babies. It's the ring I've worn on trips. It's the ring I've worn on long runs and races.

A circle of gold.


And for the last few months, lost.

7 of 8 is obsessed with my jewelry. Obsessed. On any given day, she helps herself to my purses and heels and costume jewelry collection. She's not content with little girl dress up items. She wants real bling.

She's made my heart flip flop a couple of times when I've found her wandering through the house, barbies in one hand and my solitaire on the other. We've discussed several times that she needs to leave my wedding rings alone.

But sparkle and shine draw her in. And she climbs on counters and scales dressers and pillages high drawers to answer that call.

And then my gold band went missing. Gone.

Naturally, I felt I knew who the culprit had to be. 7 of 8.

The questioning and interrogating began. She feigned innocence, forgetfulness, repentance.

But there was still no ring.

I found myself waking in the middle of the night, saddened that my ring was lost. It bothered me so much, not that it is the most expensive or bedazzled. Quite the contrary.

But still a much beloved token of affection and commitment, one that has been with me through a variety of stops on my journey.

I went through used vacuum cleaners bags, cleaned out drawers, dumped out 7 of 8's collection of pink handbags. All to no avail.

And then yesterday, in the middle of painting our master bath, in a forest of step ladders and painters tape and brushes and rollers, I moved a small silver tray from the counter.

There was my gold band, tucked underneath.


I was ecstatic. Thrilled. And felt a sense of home when I seated it back on my left ring finger.


I was reflecting today on how our Savior feels when His simple treasures are found, when the souls and hearts He longs to gather peek from beneath their darkness and sparkle in His light. We often seem to think we need to bring bigger treasure, more sparkle, more karats, more price tag to be considered precious in His sight. But He treasures the simple, the plain.

The unadorned heart that finds its value in covenant with Him.



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