There were wide ones and thin ones, those with tiny stones and those without. Some, the vendor told us, were sterling silver, others gold-plated. Eighteen-inch necklaces and seven-inch bracelets. The choice was truly ours—as long as they were permanent.
Just before my daughters returned to college late last month, we happened upon a jeweler’s kiosk at a local craft fair. Their specialty was the latest fashion trend: permanent jewelry. These custom-measured chains are welded closed to create a seamless piece, one that is essentially permanent, enduring, unremovable. Though not typically one who caves into fads, I was intrigued—and the girls were persuasive.
“Let’s get matching ones,” said Abigail, the more decisive one, “but we should do it now before the two of us leave.” Reflective Elizabeth added, “It’ll be like we’re not even apart.”
The vendor smiled and chimed in. “A permanent reminder of that special mother-daughter bond.” Ahh, she certainly knew what to say.
So, we glanced through the selections, with Abigail choosing a gold-plated six-inch and Elizabeth, a sterling silver. I, of course, needed a combination of the two and settled on a gold chain with silver beads. Once the measuring, welding and attaching were complete, we admired the bracelets, so subtle and unique, and snapped a photo of our adorned wrists.
As the girls posted to Instagram, I wondered about the delicate creation. A perfect circle, infinite, with no obvious beginning or end. But permanent? Would it really last? We’ll see, I thought.
The summer waned, and the girls left for school, their bracelets still permanently settled beside watches and other bangles, just like mine was—until it wasn’t. One night while washing the dishes, I felt the bracelet fall into the suds, one tiny link weakened from the others, a section not fused completely. I quickly found it, placing the chain safely on the windowsill.
Though I had it repaired the next day and it’s back on my wrist as I write this, I know one day it will detach again—by accident or by necessity—making it permanent only as long as humanly possible.
That perfect circle, infinite and seamless, was not the enduring piece I thought it to be, but how could it? As something man-made, however carefully, it could never be truly permanent. Lovely though it may appear, no article of jewelry is needed for me to ensure a close and loving relationship with my daughters or one between them as sisters. That bond, transcending miles and time, develops through commitment, respect, forgiveness and love.
Though I often look for metaphors in life, I told the girls that I don’t believe the separation in the link of my bracelet reflects a “break” for us. The one true permanence in life, they know, cannot come from something material, only from God. Even more than the love of a mother, a sister or any earthly creation is the love he embraces for us all—one that is truly enduring and eternal, reflected in a scripture passage I recently read: “Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
That indeed is a promise of permanence—just one more bond, a blessed one, that my daughters and I can share.
