Today I drove up to Highland Games* to watch Scottish men throwing logs and to listen to bagpipers playing and to join the festivities of Scotland appreciation along with Jeremy. There was plenty of haggis and accents and happiness to go around.
*in the Highlands of New Hampshire, that is.
But my MOST JOYFUL MOMENT OF ALL began with fear.
We had been sitting on this grassy hill watching the games amid hundreds of other people. Many had chairs or blankets, but we had squeezed in among them.
In between the "masters" and the "professional" round, we decided to go on a hike around the ski area, following the footsteps of four shirtless men who were running this as a race.
Twenty minutes into our walk I realized my ring was missing. My ring from Greece. The one I got my first year there, from the store that is responsible for my Greek tattoo, the place I return to every year--and the ring that I wear every day. It says: Σε βλέπω στα όνειρα μου.
I see you in my dreams.
That ring was gone.
I had a mild panic attack. I remembered exactly what happened. I'd taken my ring off to apply sunscreen and I'd put it in my lap. I must have forgotten about it, and when we stood up, it tumbled from my lap to a web of grass on a person covered mountain.
Sweet Lord have mercy.
Jeremy and I rushed back and tried to deduce where we were sitting. We found a familiar-ish area and started searching, until we realized...this isn't right. Jeremy said, "I know where we were!"
I followed him, and as soon as we got there I recognized the couple who'd been next to us. This was it! But the grass. I'm telling you. It was looking for a needle in a haystack. This was not short, groomed backyard grass. This was marsh level, long and tangled grass, and when I raked my fingers through it, it came off like a shedding dog. I was thinking perhaps the guy who'd taken my seat sat on it, or it tumbled down never to be found again. I was taking deep breaths in acknowledgment that I would have to walk away and move on with my life-- it's just an object, no big deal--when all of a sudden, Jeremy held up his two fingers, grass falling away, and in between was my ring.
IT WAS SUCH AN EPIC MOMENT!
It felt miraculous. Even the people behind us cheered. Who cares about men hurtling 180 pound logs until they flipped over at exactly 12:00. Jeremy had found my missing ring!
If you think the parable about the ten coins is not true, I assure you it is. The story: A woman has ten coins and after losing one, spends all day looking for it. As soon as she finds it, she calls everyone together to rejoice with her. And now here I am calling all of my friends (in this case, writing to all of them--i.e., you--in a blog) to say, "Rejoice with me! My ring was lost, and now it's found."
Thanks be to God!