Honeymoon in Hawaii

Everything was perfect—until my new husband lost his wedding band to the ocean.

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- Posted on Oct 15, 2010

Angels in Hawaii found the wedding ring

Drew opened the door of the kayak rental shop for me. I couldn’t help but admire his wedding ring, chiseled silver rimmed with gold. Our Hawaiian honeymoon was almost over but our life together, symbolized by our polished bands, was just beginning.

I’d prayed long and hard about marrying Drew, even after I’d accepted his proposal. I’d been married before, for 36 years, only to see it fall apart. Drew was divorced too. We’d met on an internet dating site, but I needed to know with absolute certainty that it was God who had brought us together.

Now, stealing another glance at Drew’s ring, I had no doubts. Somehow the blessed ring told me this was God’s plan for me. “We’re on our honeymoon,” I announced to the shop owner as we filled out the rental forms. Our guide led us down to the beach where the kayaks were stored. We lathered ourselves with sunblock and paddled to our own deserted island.

Drew and I walked hand in hand on the tiny crust of beach searching for shells. Besides the guide and us there wasn’t another soul for miles. The pounding surf and the whipping winds were all I heard. I stooped to pick up a beautiful shell. Again I took Drew’s hand and felt his ring against my fingers.

I was sorry to see our romantic adventure end. We checked to make sure we weren’t leaving any trash behind, then shoved off. The wind blew hard against us making the waves much rougher. I dug my paddle into the water, pulling hard with every stroke. Exhausting work! We reached the shore, left the kayaks with our guide, and returned to our rental car. When Drew put his hand on the steering wheel, his expression changed from contentment to shock. “My ring,” he said. “It’s gone!”

“What?” I looked at his hand. His finger was bare. My heart sank. I’d touched it myself only this afternoon. What could have happened to it?

“Did you take it off?” I asked Drew. “Do you remember leaving it somewhere?”

“No,” he said, his voice filled with worry. “I would never have done that. I never even felt it slip off.”

We searched the front seat of the car, and the floor on the driver’s side. No ring. Drew grabbed his cell phone and called the kayak shop.

“The owner will send someone down to check the boats,” Drew told me. I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. The ring had to have fallen off during our kayak trip. It was probably at the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again.

We combed the beach where we left our kayaks inch by inch. My back ached from stooping. God, I know I’m asking the impossible. But please help us find that ring!

There was no way to go back to the island. It was late afternoon, the waves were kicking up, and the kayak shop was closing. The tide would have long since swept the ring out to sea anyway. With heavy hearts we returned to our hotel. The carefree joy I’d felt since our wedding day was slipping away.

The flight back to Connecticut seemed never ending. I read, watched the in-flight movie, but the diversions didn’t help to refresh my spirit. My eyes kept returning to Drew’s bare finger, the indentation where the ring had been painfully evident.

I told myself that it was only a piece of metal, easily replaced. But it had meant so much more to me. Our rings were the blessed symbols of our love and commitment to one another. I believed in Drew’s love, but had I listened to God’s plan for me? Would love be lost again, just like the ring?

I returned to my job as a college instructor, Drew to his job as a sales manager for a printing company. Over and over—at breakfast, and dinner, when we went to bed at night —my eyes went back to Drew’s hand, minus the ring. We planned to buy another one, but found reasons to put it off. The original ring, blessed on our wedding day, still carried too much significance.

As weeks went by, its loss became an obstacle to our joy. Finally we ordered the identical ring and planned a small ceremony to give the new one meaning when it arrived.

The day the ring was to be ready a woman from the jewelry store called with bad news. “There’s been a delay in the shipment,” she said apologetically. God? I wondered as I hung up the phone. Was I truly meant to marry again?

I found Drew checking his e-mail on the computer. “You won’t believe this,” he said. “There’s a message from the kayak store.” I watched him click it open: A local resident kayaking to the small island searching for shells had found a man’s wedding ring in the sand. She’d gone to all the rental shops thinking a tourist must have lost it. The shop owner remembered us and our desperate search.

Two days later an envelope arrived from Hawaii. My heart pounded as Drew opened it. There, carefully packaged, was Drew’s silver ring, rimmed in gold. It was scratched and had lost its sheen. But I had never seen a ring more beautiful. Drew put out his finger and I slipped the band over his knuckle, feeling it catch securely.

Against all odds an angel had found Drew’s ring, and with it my faith in God’s plan for me. Oh, I knew Drew and I would face problems. Every marriage does. But I would never doubt that God brought him to me, just like he’d brought back this ring from a narrow strip of beach full of shells, half a world away.

Read more stories about heavenly angels and angels on earth.

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