This tiny ring is a token

of tender emotion; an endless pool of love that's as deep as the ocean, She swears to wear it with eternal devotion.

My virtual friend and cheerleader, Mama Mouse, wrote about wedding rings today. I had no real words to share until I read her words so I owe her a big thanks!

The Rings.

When the mate and I got together we started out just about as low as you can go. I had been traveling and most of my things fit in one back pack or were in storage in Windy City. He had one little Chevy Luv truck that held all his possessions and, of course, the Harley Sportster. While we both worked there was child support plus all the expense of deposits and such in setting up a new home. We didn't have a savings plan, we had a change jar.

On a trip to the flea market soon afte that I saw a shiny, green Australian crystal ring. It was ten whole dollars. The Mate went back and got it for me as a surprise. When he pulled it out to put it on my finger he said, "This will have to do for now, but it still means I want to be with you forever." I called it my "promise ring and wore it until the stone was too loose for safety and the metal on the band almost worn through. It meant every bit as much to me as any expensive ring other women may have had. When you looked at it in "percentage of available funds" it had cost him an awful lot of gas money that should have gone for getting to work.

I guarded it with my life. It was always getting caught on my jeans pockets or whacking into something. It meant my man loved me. In almost two years I never took it off. I never gave the mate any jewelry, he didn't like things hanging off his body, too dangerous to him in the presses and tooling he worked with, but I treasured my green ring.

When we moved in together he surprised me one night by asking me to go for a ride with him. We drove out to the pond I grew up on and where we courted an out to the pines where we had talked the day we reconciled after so many years. He parked there and seriously asked me to marry him. He pulled out a small box with an engagement set he had gotten at one of those Mart stores for very few dollars and gave me two rings of fake diamonds when I said yes to him.

I moved the green ring over and wore them proudly. They were his promise to me that I would be his in the eyes of the world, not just his eyes. It was so important to him that I know he treasured me enough to make it public and legal. Knowing this man I respected so much cared for me so sweetly was on both my hands now whenever times got bad.

After all the paperwork of our pasts was caught up and we had the option to truly wed we were still living fairly hand to mouth. It took time to save up enough to even think about rings. There was the preacher to take care of, too. Everytime we had money for one, something came up and there wasn't enough for both.

One Friday, a payday, we realized we would have almost a hundred and thirty dollars left. WOW! Bonanza! We were in The Big City, anyway, so we went to a discount jewelery store and found both our plain, white gold bands for a low enough price that we could still get a preacher.

Oh boy! We were getting MARRIED! When we got home I called the preacher of choice and he was only available in one month or the next afternoon at two p.m. No Brainer there, eh? (KIRA!) I called my sister and borrowed a dress then asked her to bake a cake, too, bless her heart. I called the rest of our friends and family and told them the wedding was tomorrow at two and bring their own lawn chairs.

I made tons of tea to be iced and prestacked filters of coffee, got disposable cups and plates and plastic silverware at the dollar store, tossed a table cloth over the picnic table and set up a card table with another, un matched but pretty cloth and we were up!

Surprisingly enough, his best man, my matron of honor, both mothers, and all local siblings with their families and our closest friends were all available! If I had been trying to get up a card game I would have come up short, but they were all coming and asking if we needed anything. It was only going to be coffee, tea and cake with ice cream but we were treating them. The mate had a fit when I suggested "pot luck", they were our guests, we would feed them. I loved his 'tude sometimes and that was one of them.

The day was perfect. In September, and the last week almost, we could have had anything from tornados to blizzards. A blue sky dotted with little lamb clouds holding the sun up had the temperture at 75 degrees with almost no humidity. We were up that morning and running - coffee, showers, last minute set up, pick a boquet and wrap it, shower again, greet early guests, direct chair set up, change clothes, greet the preacher, break the spagetti strap on my sister's dress, ACK!, pin it, quick! Breathe, relax, breathe. He went out and I waited.

There was no music. My mate waited for me beside the preacher and I heard him making "late to her own funeral" jokes, even though it was only one minute after the appointed hour. I walked out and paused for another breath of air on the top of the steps. I turned and looked right into the mate's eyes and, holding that eye contact, strolled slowly over to join him and our friends in front of the preacher.

It was a standard ceremony, pretty much. After some scripture and helpful hints the preacher had us join hands, both of them. I handed off my flowers to my friend, turned to look once again into the proud and smiling eyes of my soon to be husband and willingly raised my hands for him to hold. We were both just short of giggling because the "obey" part was coming and we had substituted 'respect', knowing neither of us ever obeyed anyone. We hadn't told the moms. It made us smile clear to our ears and look lovingly in cahoots with each other.

The preacher was getting to the important stuff and our grins turned to somber, on my honor, no kidding, forever and ever faces. Our eyes were locked as the mate began to "repeat after me".

Right then there was a TICKLE at my ankle. I shifted my weight a little. Then a NIBBLE! Then a weight galavanting up the INSIDE of my slip! I had rescued a kitten a week or so earlier and it had never seen a dress! It was exploring clear to my hip. I was NO WAY going to interrupt the promises we were making but the little bugger was maybe going to rip the dress right down! Remember the pinned strap? The extra weight was bad!

Still holding tenderly to the mate's hands and looking deeply into the mate's eyes I caught a glimpse of our neice with her hands clasped over her mouth to my left and knew this was going to be bad. The crowd had seen it coming!

I caught that little scamp with a bump of my hip and shook him loose. He slid right down my leg and lay across the top of my shoe. I lifted that foot, balanced myself, pulled the leg slightly behinded me and launched the grey tiger kitten between the mate and the preacher. He soared like a flying squirrel, legs splayed out and tail ruddering behind him, for about ten feet and landed gently in the bushes. All puffed up for war, he raced toward the house right between us and our guests.

The adults burst into wild laughter even as the children tried to "be good" and stay quiet. The mate and the preacher never saw a thing and both looked a little perplexed but neither of them missed a cue and we continued.

We finally got to the 'with this ring' part. My mate's friend handed him the small, insignificant looking white box, already opened. The mate took out my ring and held it for me to get his. The preacher surely said something about endless circles and joining two and all that but the mate and I were in our own space. He made his vows to me. They were the vows of a knight to his lady and he enhanced all of them with the commitment and truth in his eyes.

I can still see my hand, ringless now, lying in his large, tanned and calloused one with just that one finger lifted up and feel him trying to slide it on without hurting me as he hit the knuckle. As my turn came I looked only to him and stated my vows with my full heart and soul behind them. We were so full of our love. I started his ring on his finger and he gave me an assist at his knuckle then took both my hands in his two loving ones as we were officially pronounced man and wife. What a kiss! We were always good at kissing. And the crowd cheered!

The day was wonderful, there was enough of everything, his Bro1 brought champagne that is the only kind I have ever enjoyed drinking and I can't tell you what it was, everyone had fun and there were more photos of the troublesome kitten than the bridal party.

Like every other day, that one ended. The only difference it made was that we were legally able to sleep together in the eyes of the church, the state and our people, as long as we only "slept" in approved ways, LOL! Oh, and we had matching rings now.

Rings for love are simple bands of metal in most cases. The Rings we exchanged the day we married were white gold bands. Both of us liked the color, the mate because it looked like chrome (LOL) and myself I like silver, but it's too soft for the life I lead, as is yellow or black hills gold. We needed the extra endurance of a heartier metal to have an expression of our commitment that would last through engines, gardening, chores and the other heavy jobs of life. It also remained beautiful through whatever we did as neither of us would take them off if it could be avoided and the gentler metals would have worn through or been destroyed too easily.

My engagement set burned up in the fire just five months after the wedding. I was wearing the green ring and my wedding band. Through the years there were times that even they had to come off. The mate still hated anything that might get caught in machinery so took his off when he was too worried about it. I broke that finger once. It took two nurses working in turns to cut it off. I pouted till the mate got it fixed for me. Sometimes, when we were watching TV or just sitting together we would bump them together and say 'Shazam!" like the old cartoon. Other times we would click them as we held hands. We would both roll them around and around with our thumb when we were bored or nervous.

I bought the mate a ring one year for his other hand. It was onyx mounted in silver with a flat setting and stone. His bike was silver and black, so was the ring. He really liked it and wore it until it got too small over time. One Christmas the mate bought me a beautiful garnet ring in a yellow gold band. I retired the green ring, now almost worn out and wore the band through on the garnet, too. For my 50th bday the tender lover brought me a diamond ring I have mentioned before. It was channel set and doesn't often catch on anything. I wear it still.

When he died I removed his ring and wore it on a chain around my neck, for both of us. It was still my promise to him to love and to cherish. But the next line is 'til death us do part'. It took months for me to struggle with that line. I know he exists beyond what we call "death". And I am not dead yet.

But our promises were kept. We loved honored and respected, through sickness and in health and never faltered in our vows. Facing the fact that those vows were a thing of my past was a big and painful step. I took off the chain and I took off my ring.

My green ring and my red ring lie in my jewelry box for my granddaughters. The engagement set burned up. Our wedding rings are on a chain in a small, insignificant looking box on my dresser. One day someone I know will be truly in love and in need of a set of rings and I will gift them ours because they will carry the love forward. On my left hand, at the base of the ring finger is the groove worn from my wedding ring, still, I don't need to wear it to remember.

But the diamond the best friend I ever had gave me for his love of me is still on my hand. The vows may have been kept and passed away in time behind me, but the love he gave me with that gift will never cease between us. When I join him I will leave that love sign behind me with all the rest of the "things" I have loved so someone else can feel special one day. Until then it is my own small comfort in a world without him.

If it was a cigar band I would wear it proudly still because of the love it represented. You can't measure love by the cost of the ring. You can't measure the love by the size of the wedding. It is measured by the biscuts and gravy you make him from scratch and the flower on the table he picked you, by the smile in your eyes when you see each other in a crowded room and by the trust you know you will never be betrayed in anyway.

It's not in the rings, it's in your hearts and souls. May you all find it if you don't have it and if you have it, don't forget how rare it is.