This week in church I was intrigued with the young woman in front of me because she bought back memories.

She kept looking at the beautiful wide gold wedding band on her finger. At one point she raised her hand to allow the sunlight streaming through the stain-glass window to shine on her gold band. She kept turning her hand, perhaps to watch the interplay between her ring and sunshine.

It was obvious she was captivated by the beautiful gold band that was so bright it must have been new.

Watching her made me recall the awe of looking at my own gold band when it was new. Just like the young woman in church, I often looked at the band. To me, it was the most beautiful wedding ring in the world.

When Andy and I went shopping for wedding rings, I said I didn’t want a diamond. I just wanted a wide, beautiful wedding band. We went to our favorite jeweler, and he was quite wonderful in bringing out multiple trays of wedding bands. Andy told him we wanted “something different,” perhaps a band with stones or a design.

Then the jeweler brought out “the ring.” Andy and I knew it as soon as we saw it.

It had diamond chips in an unusual shape. Best yet, it had a variegated design across half the band, while the other half was smooth. Perfect.

The jeweler warned us that through the years time would dull that unusual design. But he said we were welcome to bring the ring back for free cleanings and restoration. He was true to his word, and we were fast to take him up on his offer.

I didn’t want anything to mar my beautiful wedding band.

Eventually, something did.

It’s called everyday living.

Tiny scratches eventually wore away some of the variegated design. But here’s what I came to understand.

There is beauty in those tiny scratches. They represent the marriage itself. Time itself is reflected in the scratches. In marriage, there may be scratches and maybe a few bumps in the road. Like life itself, the ring could get battered. But it’s still worthwhile, still beautiful.

And, no matter what, it’s still shiny. Something of utmost value, something to cherish and to protect.

An old woman once told me her wedding ring is worn thin but she loves it now more than ever. “The ring is like me in that it has survived so much,” she said.

I never wanted to take off my wedding band. When I was in the hospital having my two daughters the nurses insisted I had to take off my ring. I pretended it was too tight and said it was impossible to remove. I didn’t want to be without it, especially for something as important as welcoming our daughters into the world.

Two years later when I had to have surgery I didn’t get away with saying the ring wouldn’t come off. I don’t know why it made surgery safer not to wear my ring. But it was only a short time before the ring was back on my finger.

Yes, I loved looking at the ring, appreciating what it stands for.

After Andy passed away I kept wearing the ring.

I did get to the point where I had to remove the ring every now and then because of a rash. I always carefully put it on my nightstand at night. But then something awful happened when I was having s bit of remodeling in the house.

My ring disappeared. I looked everywhere, but it was gone. Absolutely gone.

At least I didn’t have to decide when it was time to take off my ring. Some friends told me they switched their wedding ring to their right hand after their spouse passed away.

I didn’t get to decide, but I guess fate made the decision for me.

Six years after Andy passed away David and I decided to get married. Everything is different when you are an older bride. For the wedding itself, we had more of a no fuss, no muss approach.

When we went to pick out wedding rings, I picked something simple and fairly inexpensive.

But it was still beautiful. And yes, like the woman in church who kept staring at her ring, I too liked to look at how my rings sparkled.

A few months ago David’s house was destroyed by two consecutive hurricanes. Everything in the house was destroyed. I thought we would never get all the wet, damaged furniture and belongings removed. We probably would still be working at it if it weren’t for a wonderful charity called Samaritan’s Purse.

Twelve guys from there showed up at the door and had everything emptied from the house in half a day. During all the stress and commotion I removed my wedding rings from the little heart-shaped box where I had put them for safe keeping.

I have no idea how the rings got coated with so much gunk, but they were almost unrecognizable. But it’s nothing the jeweler can’t solve with a good cleaning.

Talk about a battered wedding ring.

If wedding rings could talk, every ring would have a story to tell.

What story will your wedding ring tell?

Email Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net