Recently, my ring broke very unexpectedly. It was the only ring I wore. Silver with a mystic fire topaz. This one.
I’d bought it for myself shortly after my fiancé, Patrick, died. I’d wanted a wedding ring just like it. At the time, I fancied it helped keep my bond with him alive and “real.” But it was just a ring I’d bought for myself. And I wore that ring through some incredibly brutal times.
I was sad when it broke, but then I realized that compared to the sadness I’d come through already, with that ring on my finger, it was as nothing. In fact, I’ve come to see it as a kind of release, a liberation. As if my ring were saying, “I belong to that time… but you do not. I’ve accompanied you far enough. You should go on ahead now. Find a new ring to go with you.”
It reminded me of a very vivid dream I had one night a few years ago. I was sitting next to Patrick. It seemed we were up on a high cliff, overlooking a sea. He was telling me that our ways must part and we must go on our own ways. He said there were other people who needed my love, and I must go to them and not linger near the past any more. It was a sweet, gentle, simply truthful scene.
I felt a definite breaking off, a definite separation. But it was a natural break, not a painful, jarring one. It wasn’t a complete destruction of the past–nothing can ever destroy the time we had together. It just shrank to a broken shard that I could carry around for remembrance, but not enter back into.
Sort of like the piece of ring I still have lying on the table. I’ll probably keep it, at least for a while. I still admire it. But I won’t be wearing it any more. I won’t be having it repaired. I’m going to let it stay broken. And get a new ring for this new time in my life.
I’m thinking about a deep red garnet. It can remind me of the Precious Blood of Christ that has purchased my new lease on life–not only this life, but the one to come. Maybe this one.
Or perhaps a lovely color-changing alexandrite to remind me of life’s transience? Perhaps this one?
What do you think? Are there any gemstones that have special significance in Catholic tradition?
7 comments
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22 August 2009 at 3:51 AM
VA
The only gemstone I can think of from the top of my head is of course the amethyst, which bishops (used to) wear in their pectoral cross (and sometimes ring). Its purple colour is symbolic for the passion of Christ.
Umberto Eco’s “The Name of the Rose” has, if I remember it right, an exhortation on the ring of the abbot, including the meaning of all the gemstones involved, but that’s hardly Church teaching, of course :) I mainly remember it because of the induced trauma when I had to wrestle through it in high school…
22 August 2009 at 9:01 AM
Faith
No jewels. Just a cross. See http://www.jewelbasket.com/cross-rings.html
Then it’s obvious where your heart lies.
God bless.
23 August 2009 at 6:07 AM
Monica
Seeing this post about your broken ring I felt the need to read again your conversion story. Once again, I am moved and impressed by your strength in the face of all that pain and I admire your commitment to the Church and to the faith. I hope you will receive a ring, from a man with whom you can became even stronger in your faith and continue this wonderful journey. God bless you!
Liturgy of the Hours
25 August 2009 at 2:59 PM
susie
I lost my comment earlier when I absent-mindedly changed pages. Oops. Interesting post, Heather. I’ve not been here for a long time. It helped me as I am going through a rather sad and difficult time now too. Nothing nearly as tragic as what you’ve suffered, but still a “sad” time. Here’s some interesting facts about Opals. I’ve always liked the many colors, the tiny specks of color in them. So thanks to your post, I’ve learned even more about the opal. “Pray for me, I’ll pray for you and one day we’ll meet merrily in Heaven.” It is amazing what “minerals and stones” have to go through to become “gems.”
It says: Opal is one of the few gemstones that is sedimentary in origin. The water in opal is a remnant of that ancient sea. The most striking quality of opal is its ability to refract and reflect specific wavelengths of light. In fact, the term “opalescence” was coined to describe this phenomenon. The size and spacing of the amorphous spheres of silica within the stone refracts specific wavelengths of light; each sphere refracting a single, pure spectral color much like the individual microscopic droplets of water in a rainbow. The interplay of these pure wavelengths of light gives opal its unique visual appeal, and makes it one of the most sought-after gemstones in the world.”
God bless.
http://www.opals.info/about.php
25 August 2009 at 3:08 PM
susie
Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser… the word “remant” just lept off the page re-reading my comment, which I don’t know why I even did, but isn’t that kind of curious? “Remnant” of the Ancient Sea. Hmm. Makes me think of the “few” faithful…from the Ancient Church that Jesus built. The remnant that will be ‘forged’ ‘purified’ ‘cleansed’ ‘renewed’ ‘restored’ and “lifted up” if we remain faithful to Him, Our Lord and to His calling, His will for us. To “refract and “reflect” Jesus to a hurting, sad, dark world. We’re like the little tiny specks of colour in an opal. I think of “grandmothers” when I think of Opals. Mothers. Maybe our “spiritual Mother.” She’s the one who most reflects Jesus to us all, “microscopic droplets of water” are like all of us that she carries…that she gives birth to, to carry us eventually to her Son, Jesus. An opal may contain up to 30% water. That’s also interesting. We’re made up of water, too. We are made Christians by the waters of baptism! Wow. This has been a fun little find! :) I even feel a little better too! Thanks Heather!
1 September 2009 at 12:03 AM
Pascal
Just ran across your blog – very enjoyable reading. Thought you might be interested in this:
http://fisheaters.com/preciousstones.html
Maybe that will help you in some way.
God be with you.
17 September 2009 at 7:34 AM
Owen
A powerful and beautiful realization, a grace from the Lord. I have had similar occasions of things breaking or going permanently missing only to realize that I wasn’t as terrifically sorry about it as I might have expected and that these things belonged, as you have said, to a self of a different time. I’ve had this happen with my own drawings and paintings even.