Celebrate The Joys Of Living
I grabbed my nightshirt from the pile of clean clothes sitting on the Jacuzzi, walked over and flopped it on the bed. It was 9:30 p.m., I was already too tired to sleep, and too sluggish to do anybody any good. I planned to slide in-between the sheets with my head propped up on two pillows and grab a sheaf of cryptograms. They relax me. And then I saw a round object on the bedcovers and snatched up my glasses.
“Ken, Ken,” I screamed at my husband, “come here, I found my ring.”
We both stood there examining the ring, to make sure it really was the ring I had lost. How did it get there? The mystery has never been solved.
This ring was far more valuable than the diamonds it held or a gift to celebrate Christmas at the turn of the century.
2000 had been a difficult year. I had completed my treatment for breast cancer. Ken went with me to every doctor’s visit, stayed at the hospital during my surgery, and drove me to all of the radiation treatments everyday for seven weeks. And when I insisted on combining holistic regimens with traditional methods, Ken supported me even though insurance wouldn’t cover the expenses and bills stacked up.
During that time, I continued to run my speaking business, sometimes scheduling radiation at 6:30 a.m. so I could catch a plane, give a speech, and return in time for the next treatment. I was determined to complete the work for my speaking certification that would help leverage my business. It was the culmination of six years worth of work, and with my daughter and husband’s help we did it.
The extended family had gathered at our house for Christmas that year. And as Christmases go, this one was extraordinary, with relatives from Oklahoma, and across Connecticut. At the end of the gift opening on Christmas Eve, Ken handed me a very large box. My first thought was, “I hope this isn’t one of those roaster ovens.” Then I opened the card and read.
“Like so many other years we faced many hurdles, clearing each one and becoming stronger in the process. This year you exceeded your certification requirements, built “Hands Of Peace” into a great (puppet) ministry (at our church) and solidified your business all the while being a wonderful wife, mother and grandmother. (And now) you cleared the largest hurdle so far and are healthier than ever. Your achievements make me proud to be your husband. This gift is a celebration of our life together. I love you, Ken”
Well, I just started blubbering. The words Ken wrote meant more to me than anything in that box.
I tore off the paper and inside was another box, and another, until all that was left was a small leather case. Inside was a band of diamonds. I was overwhelmed.
One night, ten months later, I took off my wedding rings and “celebration ring,” put them all on the bedside stand, and went to sleep. The next morning was trash day and Ken emptied the wastebasket next to the bedside stand along with the rest of the weekly trash and set it out on the curb. The trash pick up was early that morning. I slept in later than usual and when I reached for my rings, they were all there except my “celebration ring.” I looked everywhere, tore the sheets off the bed, pillowcases, searched the floor, looked through the bedside stand and ran down to tell Ken. He came up and together we searched again. No ring. We decided it must have fallen into the wastebasket and subsequently hauled away with the trash.
Ken reminded me that we still had each other, and all of the important things the ring symbolized. The ring was missing for six months when I found it laying on my husband’s side of the bed that night last April. And we celebrated together the joy of finding what had been lost.
At first, I thought, “I know this means a lot to me, but it certainly doesn’t mean anything to anyone else, so why bother?” But then I remembered that Jesus told a story (Luke 15: 8-10) about the woman who lost a piece of silver. She swept her whole house looking for it, and when she found it, she celebrated with her neighbors and friends.
Celebration impacts our attitude about life and faith, like a highlighter that lifts up how we choose to live. It emphasizes a state of mind and heart whether the event is small or elaborate, ritualistic or relaxed, major life event or single achievement. Enthusiasm changes us when we celebrate, and highlights our blessings and accomplishments hooking them into our memory.
I admit I didn’t throw a large party to celebrate finding my ring. Many of us make excuses for not celebrating including me. We think celebrating the small things seems self-centered and silly. Yet, we are told to rejoice.
We take time to feel miserable, and then when something good happens, we’re too busy to celebrate, or wait for the other shoe to drop. Yet when we look back on our lives, do we remember only the struggles and crisis or that in spite of our trials, we celebrated often and with enthusiasm? Remembering to celebrate the smaller events can help us really experience the joy of life. Whether it is for yourself or for someone close to you, find ways to acknowledge a job well done, a delightful surprise, and milestones along the way
(this evergreen article was published in Lutheran Woman Today November 2002)
