Just Leave the Ring on the Rail

Seven years ago today I bolted from the Douglas County Courthouse thinking, ‘How could a 21-year relationship end in a matter of five minutes?’ Just five minutes.  That’s all it took for the judge to dissolve something that required a half a lifetime to build.  On this anniversary of my divorce, I’m running through my neighborhood trying hard to focus on my feet instead of my heart since the snow is piled in treacherous little drifts all along the sidewalk.  But these snowy conditions are like the light bulb needed to shine through the filmstrip and project the painful images across my mind.  It was a Tuesday in January and it was unbearably cold at 4:30 in the afternoon as I tried to locate my car in the snow-packed courthouse parking lot. In my mind, the movie reel advances but gets stuck on one of the most desperate moments of my life – the moment when I finally find my car, climb in, and vomit out all the years of memories with each breathless, heaving sob.

This is going to be a tough one today because I know how hard it can be to run with a cluttered mind and a heavy heart.  But, reliving this every year seems inevitable – and probably very necessary.  I am praying that the sun’s rays will break through and at least show me some mercy on this cold, grey morning. These are the days when I think maybe God doesn’t like me very much.  These are the days when I feel like a huge disappointment to Him.  The days when I feel like if I had just tried a little harder, maybe I could’ve kept it together.  No, I don’t expect the sun to shine on me today.

Just leave the ring on the rail for the wheels to nullify

So as I dance around the icy patches and chunks of hard snow, my mind floats back to the frozen car in the darkening parking lot.  After almost an hour, I was wrecked from the sobbing and the nose-blowing and the sobbing and the nose-blowing.  It was now pitch dark and as I was getting ready to drive home to the house-without-a-husband, track six of the homemade “Soundtrack of My Life” CD caught my attention.  “Gone for Good,” by The Shins, was playing.  It was a song I’d heard dozens of times before, so how could it be that I’d never understood the significances of the lyrics until this moment? I hoarsely sang along in a voice that didn’t seem to belong to me.

“Untie me, I’ve said no vows

The train is getting way too loud

I gotta leave here my girl

Get on with my lonely life

Just leave the ring on the rail

For the wheels to nullify”

At that moment, I immediately knew what I was going to do.  Santa Fe, the single-lane road that led back to my home, was also the road that ran parallel to the train tracks.  Cargo engines made their way along this route less regularly these days, but sometimes – even 15 miles away – I could still hear their whistles in the night as I waited for sleep to come.  The snow crunched under my tires as I pulled off the side of the road into the parking lot of an abandoned gravel depot.  I left the car running and made my way through the deep snow toward the tracks.  I took my wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the rails.  The beam from my headlights was shining directly on the gold band and the snow glistened in its path as I stood waiting to hear the familiar comfort of the train whistle.  It was so cold.  I got back into my car, played track six again, and waited.  This was my closure, I thought.  This is me taking control of the situation.  I would save myself.  The waiting was unbearable, but I had no tears left to cry.  After a very long 30 minutes, I heard the clanging and ringing of the railroad crossing gates and I quickly made my way back to where I had left the ring on the rail.  As the giant engine rushed past me, whistling with great concern, I was astounded at how loud it was.  It roared through me as I watched with amazement while the sparks flew from the wedding band from the train’s massive iron wheels.

The memory of the train screeching and crushing my wedding band on that snowy January night causes me to catch my breath as I slowly finish the last mile of this very uncomfortable run.  As I look to the east, I’m astonished that through the ominous grey sky, I can actually see a glimmer of hope.  The sun’s rays are pushing through and I feel modest relief from the blistery cold and my unforgiving heart.  It happens all the time.  After a few tough miles, I am always a bit gentler with myself and today I can finally accept that, even on this anniversary of my divorce, God really does love me.

But, I have to keep reminding myself of this every day because God’s grace is so counterintuitive to everything we humans can understand here on earth.  If we have faith, His grace is an otherworldly love – a love that is undeserved and unearned.  I only wish I had known all this the day I put my ring on the rails in a feeble attempt to find meaning, worth and strength.  I never did save myself that night – but that’s okay, because now I know that there was another who already did that for me.

“In my place condemned He stood,

Sealed my pardon with his blood.

Hallelujah, what a Savior!”