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	November 2003
		Personal Column The diamond ring by Kaye Green
			In my family there is a greatly treasured diamond ring of great beauty and value. It belonged to my great-grandmother. As the third-generation daughter to receive it I am suitably awed by this privilege and responsibility. In Queensland, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, I realised I had lost this ring. I searched through all my things, my mind racing. A vague feeling I had left it somewhere safely....of course! Brisbane, where I had last stayed. My friends searched but found nothing. I felt my stomach turn. The same story in Canberra. They mustn't have really looked. On my return in a few more weeks I would find it. I returned and searched. Nothing. Such a black cloud descended. Unworthy, irresponsible soul! Hadn't my family warned me to take care? Was it possible to trace all my movements of the last two months of travelling? I remembered putting the ring in my velvet pearl box. Of course! The box was back in Melbourne! The black cloud lifted. I couldn't wait to get home. In a moment of high drama I entered my bedroom at home. I found the velvet box. There was no diamond ring inside. My last hope was gone. What ever could I tell my mother? Feeling sick, I imagined the rest of my life spent hiding the fact that I had lost the ring; pretending I had put it in the bank for safe-keeping; frequenting antique jewellery shops seeking a replacement. And so for the first time throughout this ordeal I prayed. Suddenly I recalled a conversation with my mother, in Tasmania, in the sunny days before losing the ring; something about leaving the ring with her while I travelled. But had I really had that conversation? Was God speaking to me? No, I couldn't trust myself. I couldn't phone my mother and risk being wrong, and found out. I would have to wait until my next trip to Tassie. They were weeks of anxiety. Finally I was in Tasmania, and like a thief, was alone in my mother's bedroom, searching desperately. There was no ring. My last hope I stared at the mirror. The worst person on earth stared back, tears falling. Behind me I saw my mother's wardrobe - 'Fort Knox' we kids called it. All important things were kept in there. All important things. . . Slowly I walked to my doom, turned the key and opened the door. There on the shelf was a velvet box. My last hope. Struggling to move my arm, I took the box and opened it. There was the ring. I ran and confessed it all to my mother, this time with tears of joy 'But you suggested leaving it here,' she said. 'for safe keeping.' Small things I have reflected on the burden I carried needlessly for so long, so weighed down with worry that I did not ask for God's help until I was too despairing to hear him. God wants us to pray for the world, for each other, but he also wants us to pray about the small things in our lives, before they become huge and debilitating. That which you think is lost, may be with you after all! I have learned a great deal about when to pray and to listen to God. I have also learned where to keep my diamond ring!