Two wonderul years

Today I was sitting in my husband's office, surreptitiously sewing a little something for him to commemorate our second anniversary, which is tomorrow. You know, the cotton anniversary. A little sewed something seems natural, no?
As I listened to this song, I happily stitched away in the few moments of quiet available while Noah napped. The quiet made me introspective, and I was struck by the sight of my own hand as I sewed. Specifically, my wedding ring.

I was struck how my wedding ring and engagement ring are such wonderful symbols of our life together. There is the obvious symbolism of the rings being forged into an unending circle, made from solid, precious metal.But the story behind these specific rings say something about us.
Patrick couldn't afford an engagement ring when he proposed. Neither of us could stand for a blood diamond as a symbol of our love and commitment to one another. Yet a Canadian diamond was simply out of his budget from a 'Franciscan' salary from that beautiful liberal arts school we love so much.

So he gave me his rosary. A simple, wooden string of beads that he bought while in Medjugorje. I tear up right now as I remember this.
But we discovered later that Patrick's mother had a family heirloom ring that she was instructed many years before to pass down to Patrick and his bride-to-be. She unfortunately lost this ring, and so she offered to buy one as a new heirloom for our own family. (I smile at the thought of possibly one day giving it to my little Noah to give to the love of his life.)
They decided it suited us more to get one second-hand. They managed to find a beautiful Canadian diamond -- and a rather large one at that! -- at a pawn shop for a great price.

In waiting upon the Lord, He gives us more than we could ask for.

The ring is a rather unique shape. I have never seen another one like it. It's a complete circle, but not in straight line. I think its asymmetry adds to its beauty (sorry, St. Thomas, I respectfully disagree).

It reminds me that our life may not fit the mold of what I had ever expected marriage to be like, and we can't even appear on the surface to have it perfect, but

what we have is more wonderful and more holy than I could have hoped for.

Because of the unusual shape of the ring, no ordinary wedding band could fit against it. Every straight band I tried on left a strange groove between the engagement ring and the band, looking awkward.

So Patrick had one custom-made by a jeweler in Barry's Bay. A man whose family had been making and selling jewelery for over forty years. I love that this ring came from a local artist. But mostly I love that Patrick sought it out himself. Some couples choose their wedding bands together, and I think that is lovely, but I am so touched that my husband met with this man himself and paid (rather dearly) for a beautiful piece of art.

So . . .

I look down at this ring and think, Patrick is a provider.

Not just in the material things that I need to live comfortably and cheerfully, but in the most important things -- in his tireless work, his continuous patience, and his self-sacrificing love. He really believes and lives the Madonna House phrase, "I am third."

When I spent so much of my youth wondering, or more accurately, agonizing over my vocation, I look back now and take a deep breath and smile. Why would I have ever doubted that God wouldn't call me to a life of such joy?

Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4