I still wear my wedding ring. Though not for the same reasons.
Following my divorce, I began browsing inspirational photos online. Ring-hand rings. Redesigned wedding rings. #DivorceRing on TikTok unleashed a collection of video shorts featuring sparkly gems and women sharing their reasons for splitting. Once I was convinced this trend was popular enough that I wouldn’t be laughed out of a jewelry store, I made an appointment with an heirloom design consultant.
The consultant examined my wedding ring thoughtfully as I shared my ideas. She enthusiastically greeted my new vision for my ring. Digital renderings were produced and sent. I shared my feedback, and the designs were tweaked to my liking. Back and forth this went for several cycles. Once I settled on a blueprint, a scale replica made of wax was presented to me in a tiny cardboard box. Within weeks, I was called back to the consultant’s office and, at last, received the real version in an actual jewelry box.
Much like the first time, sliding the ring onto my finger enkindled a swell of emotions. First, elation: this signified a beginning, a new chapter, a fresh start. Then, tears. Most were tears of joy — but there was also sadness because the redesigned ring represented an end as much as a beginning. This ring had once been the most significant symbol of my married life. More than signing the divorce legal papers, receiving the reconstructed ring cemented the last remaining part of my former life to its permanent closure.
This year marks the second anniversary of my divorce. Looking back, naming what happened is still a bit delicate. Things didn’t work out. We grew apart. Our lives went in separate directions. It was no one’s fault… These statements are all true, but after much time and exhausting efforts to save our marriage, I packed up; moved out; and found a lawyer. I was the one to initiate an ending.
In her book How to Walk into a Room: The Art of Knowing When to Stay and When to Walk Away, Emily P. Freeman writes, “With endings, especially complicated and nuanced ones, it’s important to say as clearly as you are able to what has happened.” Choosing to end a marriage most definitely falls into the “complicated and nuanced” category. If I were to name in plain English why it ended, it’s as simple as this: I left.
The redesigned ring represented an end as much as a beginning.
And as my divorce was finalizing in my personal life, a different kind of ending was unfolding in my professional one.
Our large Presbyterian congregation in Philadelphia was in the throes of a massive transition that included staff restructuring and an interim head of staff departing abruptly on medical disability. Colleagues resigned. Congregants walked out the door. Nameplates on office doors were changed — and changed again, all while worship and church life continued.
Towards the end of the turnover, we happened to hold two funerals for former staff. Familiar faces and former colleagues returned to say goodbye. It was bittersweet, but also heartwarming. An era in the life of our congregation had officially ended.
For me, this ending felt different than my marriage: I stayed.
Determining whether to end a marriage or to stay in an installed congregational calling are two separate decisions. However, there are notable similarities. Both are relationships. One is between two persons. The other is between a pastor and a congregation. Both require a covenant to one another and public vows. I have learned there is grace for choosing either.
In marriage, two people promise to spend their lives together. Though the commitment a pastor makes to her congregation is probably not forever, her life becomes so intertwined with those of her congregants that they inevitably grow together. Marriage and installation vows are sacred callings. The choice to walk away from either is painful. But the decision to remain may hurt, too. Staying brings a finality all its own.
When does staying best honor the original commitment? When is leaving the healthiest option?
When one enters a covenant, like marriage, some believe there is no option to walk away. I would be dishonest if I claimed to never have had any doubts about my decision. When does staying best honor the original commitment? When is leaving the healthiest option? Is it possible God’s grace is waiting behind either door?
In transitional seasons, I find myself turning to the Book of Ruth. After Naomi’s husband and her two sons tragically and suddenly die, Naomi tells her daughters-in-law to leave her and return to their families. Naomi is a widow in the Ancient Near East with no prospect for a husband or sons. She feels she has nothing to offer her kin. But Ruth refuses to leave: “Do not press me leave you, to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge… (Ruth 1:16)” In my season of transitions, Ruth’s words echoed in my thoughts. But I also noticed the actions of Naomi’s other daughter-in-law: Orpah, who weeps and bids Naomi farewell. She returns to her family. Just as Naomi told her to do.
Our tradition celebrates Ruth. She is lauded as a loyal, loving daughter-in-law, her actions symbolic of the abiding presence and steadfast faith of the God of Israel. But isn’t there a divine plan for Orpah as well? Her choice led her down a different path. She honored her mother-in-law’s wishes. As a result, she got to return home to her family. After all, history only needed one of them, either Ruth or Orpah, to continue the family line leading to the birth of Christ. Perhaps God had blessed Orpah for a different purpose.
Isn’t there a divine plan for Orpah as well?
I find myself wondering about Orpah’s story. In the text, Orpah doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t have second thoughts. She bids Naomi a tearful goodbye and moves forward. What was it that she knew about herself that made her choice so clear? What did she know about her relationship with her mother-in-law and sister-in-law? Maybe she anticipated that Ruth would stay. Perhaps she could foresee that Ruth was the right one to stay and support Naomi, that they were best for one another. Maybe Orpah knew more than any of them. We’ll never know. Staying or leaving, it is possible that both Orpah and Ruth chose the right ending.
In the end, whether to stay or to leave, only God knows what is best. Choosing the right end for one’s given situation is a testament to inner courage, excellent self-understanding, and ultimately, requires an enormous amount of faith. Endings delineate and draw a border around what one will and will not accept. Endings define our limits, as well as our calling. Though one door shuts, another opens. Once through the threshold, new possibilities unfold.
Endings define our limits, as well as our calling.
Today, I wear my redesigned wedding ring on my right hand. Reminiscent of its former charm, past elements now converge with new ones to form a beautiful, unique creation all its own. My ring reminds me of God’s faithfulness through the twists and turns of my past, culminating in my own personal transformation.
Endings show us who we are — and who God has called us to become.
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