I’ve always heard Marilyn Monroe’s quote, “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” but I didn’t care about diamonds except those in my wedding rings. I didn’t think I’d have to take them off until an unusual incident happened some time ago…I didn’t divorce or lose my husband then, I simply lost the bigger, main, center diamond in that set, and dreaded checking into the expense of replacing it. It’s funny, but I remember a day or so before losing it, I was admiring how beautiful it glistened in evening light. Now, stay with me on this…

I had changed positions at Seminole State College after 13 years of teaching. A booklover, I owned 1,500 books, of which 600 were shelved in the office I was to vacate. Since I was transferring to a small office, I made numerous trips home with boxes of books, filling my Toyota Echo.

My husband, James, pulled one of his trailers onto campus to load my loveseat, large filing cabinet, big Lazy-Boy office chair, more boxes of books, teaching supplies, and varied artworks, including a 4’x5’, heavy, framed picture.

I couldn’t believe I had so much in that office space that looked like a little living room. We transported stuff away except the door-length mirror James had glued and caulked to the wall.

It wasn’t until the next day that I’d noticed the roughness of my wedding rings and discovered a broken prong that caused the main diamond to fall—somewhere during the move. I just knew I’d find it in my old office, so I carefully checked it, as well the long hallway, the sidewalks, my car, the laundry bin where I’d thrown the clothes I’d worn, James’ truck, even in the rough gravel where I’d parked, and in the carpet in every room of my house. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to spot in any of those places, but you understand how I kept praying and telling God to make it twinkle so it could wave at me?

For a few months, I was beginning to accept the fact I wouldn’t be seeing that diamond again. Every time I’d vacuum the carpet, I’d go through the filth— just in case. Occasionally, I’d practically stand on my head looking for it under my car seats. But, even though Marilyn Monroe’s quote kept ringing in my ears, it seemed to begin to sound less sexy. Anyway, I couldn’t see spending money on repairing the ring and replacing the diamond. I decided to wear in their place a silver ring made by a dear friend in a varied-art mediums class at East Central University in Ada. So, I forgot about the issue.

I’d moved into the TRIO programs building to begin work as an advisor, visiting 8 high schools giving fun workshops to help kids stay in school and prepare for their future. In time, I had acclimated myself to my new environment after toting back a few décor items from my old office to recreate “my” place.

During this time, we had a friend, Vance Trimble, over for dinner. When I happened to mention losing my diamond, he recalled his deceased wife had had an old watch that had diamonds in it. He’d find it and give me a diamond from it. Wow! I couldn’t believe his generosity!

Two weeks passed. While working at my desk one day, I happened to glance down, and in my peripheral vision, I saw a slight twinkle. I bent down and picked up the little hard specimen, that looked like a shiny, tiny rock. I asked the other employees if they had lost what looked like a diamond No…one…had… Hey! Maybe…no, it couldn’t be! (Yes, I have blonde roots.) I found a magnifying glass and looked closely. Yes, I recognized the unique shape it was cut, and it was my diamond! I began sharing my disbelief with the others. After work, I took it home and sure enough it fit right into place. I decided on waiting to have it fixed, so I just put it away.

A week passed. I began calling jewelers for estimates on how much it would cost to repair my ring. They wouldn’t even give me “ballpark figures,” so I sensed it would cost more than I would pay. I told James, and he asked to see it. “Why,” he said casually, “I can fix that!” He got out his pocketknife, magnifying glass, and asked for some carpenter’s glue.

I didn’t like the sound of that, and thought, “R-i-g-h-t” but knew it best not to say anything. I imagined him breaking the prongs off, leaving globs of glue all over the diamond…Oh, well… Maybe I’ll get a new set of rings….But, miraculously, in less than 5 minutes, he had it in perfect shape, without a hint of gluey residue, no evidence of a missing prong, nor a broken knife blade. Pretty good for a brick mason!

In a few days, I remembered to call Mr. Trimble to tell him I’d found my diamond. I heard a long sigh, then surprising words that he found it hard to share. He said ever since talking to me, he’d looked everywhere—in every drawer in his house many times but couldn’t find that watch! He said he was feeling terrible about it since he’d offered a diamond from it, to me, and he was just about to go purchase a new one! We both had a good laugh!

Now, years later as I look at the weddings rings, I’m still surprised that James’ “quick fix” job, has lasted 20 years now. The how, where, and when of the diamond’s journey can only be imagined…! I’m just glad when it was ready to come home, it’s twinkle caught my eye.