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Each March when our anniversary rolls around, Bill and I curl up on the couch and watch the videotape of our wedding ceremony, shaking our heads at the two vaguely familiar young people grinning their way down the aisle. I'm just grateful a camera crew wasn't around to capture every moment during our four-month engagement.
Like the night Bill and I went shopping for my engagement ring soon after he popped the question. No way do I want to see that on instant replay.
The jeweler watched as we touched the loose diamonds she'd strewn across a square of blue velvet. "What's your budget?" she asked, her tone hopeful.
Bill gulped. "Four hundred." On a college teacher's salary it was all he could afford, but I still winced. Four hundred dollars meant a very small diamond. Teeny tiny. Except for the flaws. Those would be huge.
The jeweler merely smiled and guided us to the other end of the counter. "I think we can find something here that will suit you." Out came another velvet square, but the diamond chips she placed on it nearly disappeared in the nap of the fabric.
As Bill listened to the jeweler explain carat weight, my gaze drifted back to the larger stones. Their facets caught the bright store lights, beckoning me.
Diamonds are forever. Store-bought eternity looked good that wintry evening.
We finally chose a pretty but petite gemstone. Only a jeweler would notice the flaw. As small as it was, the diamond still twinkled nicely.
Bill touched my elbow. "Make sure you're happy with it, Liz, while I look around."
Happy? I was happy with him, no doubts there. Settling for a diminutive diamond was another story. As a single woman I'd grown accustomed to buying whatever I wanted and worrying about how things got paid for later. My frugal fiancé, though, was a cash-and-carry kind of guy.
But he did say he wanted me to be happy …
Once he was out of earshot, I waved the woman closer. "Can I look at the bigger stones again?" Big mistake. The stones were larger, but so was the price tag.
Then I thought of a plan as brilliant as the square-cut beauty I'd chosen. "I'd really like this one," I said softly. "Suppose Bill gave you a check for $400 and I gave you a check for the difference?"
She eyed me evenly. "Are you sure that's how you want to begin your marriage?"
Oh. Heat flew to my cheeks. "Maybe not." I turned away in embarrassment, ashamed to have my sins spread out like so many sharp stones on display. Greed, deceit, covetousness, pride—and those were just the smaller ones.
The wisdom of Proverbs 31:11 came to mind: "Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value." Nothing except an honest wife.
I gazed at Bill across the room, a man who deserved a woman he could trust with his heart and his wallet, and silently begged his forgiveness—and God's. Thankfully, I'd been handed something more valuable than diamonds: a second chance.
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