Lost and Found.

“The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.”

G.K Chesterton

 

I lost my engagement ring.

The day that familiar band around my fourth finger dissolved into nothingness, I flew through the day busily, realizing the gravity of what I had lost only minutes before I went to bed. I hadn’t realized it, but fingering that familiar metal piece had become a habit, some sort of a comforting ritual. When it wasn’t there, its absence grated on me, and went through my mind over and over. That ring, least because it was our engagement ring, held tremendous symbolic value.

It had no stone, it was inexpensive. But it was… lost.

I first wore the ring some four years ago when I was but twenty-one. I wore it as a sign of my single-mindedness to missions, determined not to lose the vision and call to the poor because of relationships and marriage of convenience or circumstance. But it was also a sign of my defiance, that I refused to let my heart be opened, or broken, or risk its comfort and safety in any way. I wore it for a good year before a pastor, who was like a mother to me then, requested to keep the ring for me because “God has a plan for a family for you so don’t harden your heart.” She promised to return the ring to me when I got engaged.

We lost touch for years after I moved into a different church. But as soon as she got wind of my being with Cliff, she asked to meet up for lunch one day. True to her word, she returned the ring to me, packed in a little organza bag, obviously stashed away safely all this while. “This is the right person,” she said, “I know it even though I’ve not met him.”

The ring meant much to Cliff. When he heard the story behind it, he asked to keep it. On the day of his proposal, he engraved the word “AGAPE” on it. “I hope my love for you will be like what this word means- unconditional and sacrificial.”

It drove me crazy that day. Crazy, not because I saw how incredibly romantic and nostalgic and sentimental this man was. But crazy, because I came face to face with my own ugliness and superficialty. I was red hot that night. Nothing went the way I had imagined it to be. The proposal was not what I had envisioned and the little brat in me went ballistic. The ring was not what I had expected, not after the many exciting conversations about the kind of ring he wanted to get me- not with a diamond, but with a ruby or aquamarine. Instead, a plain metal band lay in a box which it didn’t belong to, and I was furious, not only with the situation, but with myself, for failing to appreciate the love of a man who was kind, and pure and true.

Understanding and appreciating the value of this ring was a period of stretching, growth and struggle. For the first time, I came face to face with reality, with the stark clash between my upbringing and expectations, and a love from a man who had little and yet so much, who had sold everything he had and given up everything he had ever owned to take a risk on a dream God had given him, and on me. But it was what it was- it was a ring I had bought for myself, and it drove me crazy to think he had not bought it for me. It was then that I saw how culturally and socially influenced I had been- I, just like everyone else, placed my worth in the monetary value of an engagement ring.

Stupid. Absurd. But it had happened. Insidiously. Sinisterly. All through the years of my life, even before he came along.

There were still days I felt bitter about it. And even more bitter about my inability to appreciate his sincere intentions fully.

Then I lost it. And the pain, guilt and remorse that pierced me were boundless.

It was a dark and long night, with me unable to sleep, and you, on the other line, unable to say anything that would bring me comfort. Your calm and determined reply of “You will find it, Wai Jia. It will come back to you” only deepened my grief. It was as if you were denying its happening, that even, you too, could not accept it. Angry, I shared my bitterness with you. And you were hurt, because you are a man of sentimentality, and nostalgia. You could have, but you didn’t hang up. You only stayed up with me over the phone till two in the morning. I was inconsolable. “Why do you tell me I will find it? I lost it. Don’t you understand? Why don’t you tell me you will replace it?”

I lost it. And I was inconsolable.

Perhaps the worst part was coming to terms with the symbolic meaning behind losing something with so much personal history, and value. Wrestling with God, I asked Him what it was He wanted to show me.

“You lost the ring, but you still got me.”

I lost the ring, but I still got Cliff. It was at that moment that I realized how little things mattered. How at the end of the day, it was but a metal piece. And though it meant so much to me, to us, why was it he could, like he could for so much in his life, let go of it  with little pain? It was because, more than its earthly value, he saw it for its invisible, eternal value. Why didn’t I see past its monetary value, and see Cliff’s invisible heart of eternity in it as well?

As days went by, I learned to let go. I learned to release bitterness and learned to forgive myself.

“You lost the ring, but you still got me. I know you will find it. If not, it will find you.”

I shook my head in disbelief. I then saw that truly, it takes a man of such blind and dogged faith to come halfway across the world to take a chance on what only Faith would.

“If not, it will find you.”

Like how you found me even though I ran away. Like how you keep finding me even when I turn my back on you. Like how even in a crowded place of a thousand faces, you always find me from the back, and you are never surprised at my startled response. It was as if you had no doubt you would find me, because we were knit together even before our birth. That’s what you believe in. You believe our stories were woven together even before we even met or came to be.

In the days which followed, the loss was palpable. I suddenly understood and appreciated the stone-less ring for what it was. Suddenly, I saw the ring as a reflection of the man who had loved, and continues to love me consistently, endlessly- simple, unpretentious, but true. “God,” I prayed, “Now that it’s gone, I understand now, and there is no other ring I would rather have than this.”

It was lost.

One evening at work, while staying back to help a senior who had become a good friend for her examinations, I shared with her the story behind my recent listlessness. Because of patiently staying up to comfort me and other late nights from work, Cliff had fallen ill.

“You will find it, Wai Jia.”

The words were almost jarring. Was she, like him, deluded too? Did they not understand how stinging those words were? The ring was two sizes too big for my finger. It probably slipped out. I had been running around all around the hospital that morning. It had likely slipped out, into a sink, onto the ground and into a corner, or between a lift crack.

“You know for all you know it could be in your bag. I always lose my rings in my handbag because that’s when it’s easiest to slip out. It’s just the angle of your fingers when you’re taking things out, you know.”

“You don’t understand, dear. I was running around the whole day. And just to prove it to you, I’m going to look through my bag again right now.”

And tears immediately spilled out of my eyes because there it was, in the corner of my black handbag, glistening, waiting, unassumingly.

“You will find it.”

You were right, Cliff. Your faith was blind, baseless, almost. But it was true. You were right.

“If not, it will find you.”

 That night in tears I bought porridge for you and visited your little room in a dingy flat. And when you saw the ring with your arms wide open, we each beamed so wide we could not contain it. I learned, how God loved me so much He wanted to guide me through this lesson so I would realize how much you actually love me; I learned, how you love me so much you would put your faith so recklessly on the line; I learned how you love God so much you believed Him with all your might, in spite of circumstances, for the impossible.

What was lost, we now found, with greater measure of joy.

“If not, it will find you.”