My Anniversary Present from Jesus

Around our wedding anniversary year number 14 or so, I began wishing for an anniversary ring. You know the kind—a simple band with tiny (at least for me they would have to be tiny!) diamonds set into it. “Hmm . . .” said Tim, when I told him what I really wanted. “Maybe for our 20th?”

Our 20th came and went, and at some point I mentioned the ring again. “Hmm . . .” said Tim. “Maybe for our 25th?” It wasn't exactly a hot topic of conversation, finances being what they are, so I think I mentioned the ring 2 or three times in the last 9 or ten years. Unknown to him, a couple of years back, I decided I really didn’t want diamonds, but rubies. My mother had given me a fake ruby ring, which I really liked, in spite of the gold beginning to wear off, and so every once in a while I would pass by a jewelry store. I would look at the rings, to see if A, they had the one I was picturing in my mind’s eye, and B, how many months of coffee dates it would set us back to get one. At some point, I even spent a half an hour or so looking on Ebay. About 2 weeks ago, I passed by a jewelry store and had the urge to look again. I didn’t. Why look at something so ridiculous, so unnecessary as a ring you cannot afford? It is amazing what a little thing like sending a kid to college does to your dreams of unnecessary luxuries.

On Sunday the doorbell rang. It was my neighbor’s daughter with a bag of old-fashioned “chic” clothes, purses and shoes from her mother for me. On my niece they will look "retro." On me they will look . . . well . . .

Now you have to understand my relationship with my 70-something “balcony neighbor.” We first met soon after we moved here because our balconies are next to each other. Eventually I asked her to join the family for Christmas tea. Other times I would see her all dressed up going somewhere (she was every inch a lady), and a couple of times I have had tea with her in her beautiful apartment all decorated in rose and lavender. Two years ago Tim and I took her to a Christmas concert in the Berlin Cathedral. Early on we discovered we were both believers, and the bond was formed.

Meanwhile, Frau M. has been battling cancer. Our visits have been very sporadic, because her cancer has made her feel so terrible. During the first long bout with chemotherapy, I didn’t know what to do. I felt guilty—I should write a letter, or give some evidence of my caring, but how? For a long time I just let it go. The natural thing to do would have been to send cards and letters, but I could not do the natural thing. You see, sending a letter in German is far from “natural.” It is one thing to SAY errors, and quite another to leave written evidence of your inability in someone’s hands. And even if my German could be flawless, I will never be able to express myself as aptly in German as in English. People respond to my feeble attempts with, “How sweet. How cute.” But in writing a letter of comfort, I don’t want to be “cute.” I want comforting to be and I not want distract you by anny mikstakes making I maybe. It hurts my pride. So writing a warm and expressive letter in German feels a bit like dancing in the park stark naked. It’s a feeling I don’t exactly cherish.

A couple of years ago, Frau M. poured out her heart. “Why are you so distant? You told me you understood how it is for us because your own mama had died of cancer. But then I never heard from you all that time I was so ill. How could you?” My heart broke, and so did my pride. I sat down, and with many tears composed a letter in German, telling her exactly what I have just told you, exposing my pride and self-centeredness, and committing myself to writing letters to her, bad German or no. She is now slowly dying, and my heart is very heavy as I watch her suffer. So I pray for her, send Bible verses as comfort in my letters, try to understand, and simply grieve.

Back to the clothes. There was a little note in with them, explaining where she had gotten them. She also mentioned in the note that she had included some jewelry, “to give you joy.” There was a little box, which I opened. I first saw a watch. How wonderful! My birthday watch (a Cracker Barrel special) lasted two weeks before needing a twisty tie to hold it together. And a bracelet! How pretty!

But then my eyes fell on one piece: A narrow circlet, with 9 tiny rubies. Our 24th anniversary was the very next day. God had given me my present a day early.