I gave my ring away.
The one that I purchased a year ago in a tiny shop along the Gainesville, Georgia, square.
It was gorgeous and is called, “The Tree of Life.” I have been wearing it in place of another as the empty space had been breaking my heart and causing me to break out in a fearful sweat.
Let me tell you why I gave it away.
I hate to shop. Really. And under the circumstances, spending money without a job is unwise. But the cold winds are promised for this week and after getting rid of much of my cool weather gear when I moved to coastal Texas, I needed a few warm and fluffy things.
This coincided with a Marshall’s opening up in hometown, USA.
I waited a week and watched the weather forecasts and finally gave in last night to launch the hunt for one good warm jacket and one good pullover.
I got lost.
In Marshall’s.
All those shiny things.
Anyhoo, as I rounded a corner of shiny things, I almost barreled into a young woman who’s face looked tired and familiar.
And there she was again. And I knew who she was.
She was a long-ago neighbor.
I’d prayed hard for her and her sister.
They had a familiar weariness…wariness and I prayed hard for them for safety, hope, beauty inside, life, laughter…GRADUATION.
She recognized me.
After 20 years, she knew who I was before I remembered her story.
The conversation flowed and I heard parts of her story that I had prayed against. And I held her.
My praydar kicked off and I knew that I had to speak life over her and hand her my ring.
The ring was easier than speaking truths that I am wrestling with myself.
But as I listened in and spoke, her hardened face softened and she was again a wily little girl with big beautiful eyes and long bouncy hair and a need for a healthy love.
I cannot give that to her.
But I can step out of the way and ask God to give that to her. And her sis.
That ring, that token of once-love and reminder of violence, now has been redeemed.
It now speaks love all over a tired girl who works hard to provide for her kiddos.
That’s what she said.
And that is enough.
More than enough to have me rooting around for another ring in what is left of my stuff.
Pray for her, please. For her sis. Her dad. Her mom.
And for me.
This season is kicking my arse.
I have it on good authority that I did ask for this season when I begged for healing.
Much love,
Broken in Paradise
