I pull it out now and then as I did today. It’s just a beautiful as the day I first saw it, which I actually can’t remember when that day was. But it was on her hand. She never seemed to wear much jewelry, her wedding ring, a brooch, a butterfly neklace, maybe clip on earrings, I’m not too certain. Another link, another memory, another tangible item reminding me of how much I loved her and how much I miss her. Yet, these are the simple emotions of the ties I have with this ring. You see, the other part of the ring is this story. My dad, he was a romantic. A simple man, and he loved her, his wife, my mother. I knew that, I believed that, I cherish that. We never had much, let me correct, we never had much as far as material things, but we were rich in love…we were loved. The memory goes like this, one day there is an excitement in the house. I wish I knew what the occasion was, but I can’t pin point it. An anniversary, Mother’s Day, Christmas, her birthday? I’m not sure. But there it was. A fancy box if you will, white and rectangle in shape. Inside was a soft satin type cloth that held a beautiful string of pearls. I really didn’t know the significance of the monetary value, but I knew they were expensive. My dad had gone and opened a charge account at Sakowitz Department Store there in Amarillo, Tx., Western Plaza I believe. He opened up an account and with the credit card he bought my mother a string of pearls. Apparently, way out of our means. But he wanted her to have them and he got them for her. The discussion went that, yeah, they were just too expensive, too much. My mother soon would put them back in the box and ask my father to take them back. Maybe there was more of the discussion, but they went back. I look back at it now, just knowing that she really liked them and was awed at their beauty and it must have been hard to make her decision. My dad, I’m sure, a bit disappointed only because he really wanted her to have them. But in the end, mutually agreed. They were gone. Somewhere this ring comes in. She kept this ring. Something that fit her more. Something that she wore proudly. Something that was worth more than the pearls. You see, something was sacrificed for it, that string of pearls. I say sacrificed loosely. It is plainly just a cool ring that she wore that within it, holds stories that I will never know. Stories of her and my dad and their ministry. Trips they took. People they met. Prayers said. If I could tap into it and retrieve all these out, well, I would. But I can’t, so I cherish this ring as one final gifts I have from my mom. I know this story seems to be about my mother and this ring I now hold and it’s supposed to be a Father’s Day piece. Well, you see, it is. Dad, if you can hear, read or see this, thank you! Thank you for being who you were. If you were here I would tell you that aside from being a man of God and giving us, me and my two sisters, the foundation of love we survive on, you married our mother. My mother, one of the greatest gifts you ever gave us.