Little Token, Big Value

The platinum band I bought myself Mother's Day 2000

Little token.

Big value.

16 years ago this coming Mother's Day when I was neither a wife, girlfriend, love interest and definitely not anyone's mother - I bought myself a platinum diamond ring.

I was a few months ahead of my self-imposed Spanish exile, planning and saving for my move to Spain set to commence that fall.

I remember vividly as I saw friends and family after that purchase some of the questions:

Who bought that for you?

Why are you wearing it on that finger?

What's up with that, Denise?

Wow, is there something you want to tell us?

I faced those questions with the same answer over and over.

I bought it for me.

Because I wanted it.

Because I'm worth it.

At that time, all my closest friends had married and were starting families. Most of my family had written me off as a career gal "who couldn't keep a man." And I'd started to doubt I'd ever find love.

I was 28 years old.

But then I saw that band. And it meant to world to me to gift it to myself. I had found love... me loving me. Me accepting me and where I was in life. I was about to embark on an adventure living in Europe - Spain to be exact if not then, when? Would I wait for a man to buy me a platinum diamond ring? With no prospects in sight - that seemed absurd. So I did it.

And almost 16 years later this ring does for me MORE than it did for me then. As I am transitioning from married woman to single woman, my finger was bare for a few months. It felt naked and weird after 15 years "belonging" in my marriage. Then I looked in my jewelry chest and pulled out this band.

I wear it today with much pride. I love me today WAY more than the me who bought this ring. I am even more confident of what I have to offer and who I am. And that purchase which at the time seemed bold and big - really speaks to me on my new journey of recalibration.


This little token has big value and is a reminder of the great woman I am even in the midst of great change.

My 28 year old self was wise enough to foreshadow what my 44 year old self needed.

My Circle of Life Moment

There goes another rubber tree plant

Over the years, whenever I heard the theme song from the 1994 classic Disney movie, The Lion King, it never meant much to me. I'd just sing along with Sir Elton John and reminisce about the great animated tale of King Mufasa and Simba's journey to his destiny.

This past April 1, for the first time ever, I had a personal connection to that simple song. The ficus "rubber tree" plant in the photo above was gifted to my very best friend when her beloved mom passed away suddenly. After the memorial, as we were clearing the funeral home of all their belongings and all the wonderful floral tributes to her, I was stopped in my tracks seeing this plant.

It was my circle of life.

You see, when my mom passed away in 1976, someone gave us a similar plant. I grew up with that plant and it was taller than me when I left for college in the fall of 1989. I loved that plant, for it represented so much. It was the vitality and  living breathing proof of my mom's existence for a very long time. I am not a green thumb at all but I did care for that particular plant. (I hear they are pretty hard to kill). When I left for college, I took for granted that that plant would be there or would one day be mine. I did not think to verbalize my love for that plant at that time. A series of unfortunate events happened over the years and along with all my baby photos with my mom,  that plant disappeared from my life. I cannot tell you I ever even felt the loss of the plant.

I've mourned the loss of my pictures many times but the plant was an obscure hurt that I did not feel again until that day in April standing in a central Illinois funeral home. I immediately felt drawn to the plant.  I mentioned to my BFF my story, briefly and succinctly. We were very absorbed in her grief and it felt selfish to even say it but I am glad I did.

Later that afternoon as we were leaving, she called me into the living room with her brother and her father and asked me to take and care for the plant in honor of her mom and my mom. I could not keep my composure. It's even taken me months to write this because the overwhelming emotion of thinking how amazing it is - this thing we call life.

Really.

This friend who was pushed off my lap in 1990 and almost wasn't my friend.

24 years of friendship.

A clear schedule on my calendar for the precise days she needed me.

A ficus plant someone thought to send.

If that is not the "circle of life", then I don't know what is.

A Different Spin On A Mother's Day Tale

Identical to the band I bought myself in 2000 for Mother's Day

For the last few weeks, promotions for Mother's Day have been inescapable. And while Mother's Day can be a joyous occasion for many, for others it's a mixed bag and that was me for a long time, even after I became a mother.

I had to look no further than my jewelry box to be reminded and empowered by a small act from Mother's Day 2000.

It is a thin but beautiful platinum diamond band I gifted myself leading up to that Mother's Day. I remember precisely why I did it.

I was in the mall preparing for a trip to see my sister who had recently become a mom for the 3rd time. I was buying gifts for her and her now three kids. I remember feeling somewhat sorry for myself, I was 28 1/2 with no prospects for marriage nevermind that motherhood seem like a distant dream. All my closest friends were married and three were already moms. The one bright spot that spring was the fact that I was headed to Spain to live. I'd decided at the beginning of that year that I'd save and move to Spain that fall. Perhaps my "prospect" was in land of jamon, olives and great wine.

As I walked by jewelry stores that weekday afternoon leading up to mom fest, the Mother's Day specials were staggering. I slipped into one of them and the platinum band you see above caught my eye. It was deeply discounted and literally spoke this to me...

"You may not be a mom but you certainly serve as a mother figure to many. You share your wisdom with the younger gals in the office, with the girls in the soccer programs you attend every week and any person you encounter in need. Why not celebrate that now and forever?"

With that inner monologue, I bought the ring on the spot. As the clerk cleaned and polished it, she asked if it was a gift and I replied proudly,  "Yes, it's for me, for Mother's Day." I ignored her fighting the inclination to feel sorry for me buying my own Mother's Day gift. She feigned a smile and showed me the ring upon finishing her work. I took it and slipped it on my right ring finger right away. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I owned to that point.

That small act was a defiant bold move toward the life I wanted. While I was not certain I wanted to be a mom, I did want the possibility. I was not shying away from that and buying myself that platinum band that day just sent my desire hurling into the universe. If you know me, you know that a few months later and 13 days before I left for Spain, I met the man would become my husband and make me a mom just one year later.

No, the moral of this tale is not about me getting my husband and starting my family. The moral of this tale is that I valued myself enough not to wallow in a feeling of inadequacy or "less than" because I was not a mom at that moment. I had plenty to celebrate Mother's Day 2000 and I did. Even now, all these years later,   I wear that platinum band to remind me to continue to make bold moves toward what I want.

So this Mother's Day, what is it you want? What are you afraid to move toward? Why not use the occasion that celebrates motherhood to birth your dream? Regardless of your mother status or if your actual mother is around, use Mother's Day 2014 to celebrate you and all the things you mother including that dream or deep desire that is waiting for you to birth it.