Almost the beginning...

It was a hot night in July of 1997. I had married Daniel on March 1st, I was pregnant by May, and he was mentally ill by July. We were living at the university in campus housing. The nice thing about where we lived was the university police. They were autonomous from the city and they took good care of us. I have nothing but good memories of their kindness. So on this night, I was almost asleep when Daniel looked at me and said, "Marrying you was the worst mistake of my life." He then got out of bed and put several shirts on top of each other. He grabbed his portable radio, pager, and walked out of the house. But this was after I had run outside to get the license plate number from his car. When I came back to the apartment, in my bare feet and skimpy clothing, I was locked out. I knocked on the door of my neighbor, she was a ballet dancer and we were casual friends. From her house I was able to watch out the window as he left our home. I called the police and explained that he was mentally ill and that I was concerned for his welfare. They drove around for hours looking for him and eventually found him sitting on a bench on campus. They came and picked me up and we went to get him. When he got into the car, he asked me where he was. He was completely confused and started talking about family members that no longer lived in our area. The police and I were able to talk him into going to the hospital. I went back in my house to get dressed and met them out in the parking lot. The policeman pulled me to the side and he said that Daniel had thrown his wedding ring into the swimming pool. I told him I would get it later and he said, "No, I will get it for you. I know that he did not mean to do that and I want to make sure that he has it back. I will bring it to the hospital and give it to you privately." After we arrived at the hospital the police officer ran up to me and placed the ring in my hand. He said, "I almost fell in getting this for you but I felt like I had to get it for him tonight." I thanked him and hid the ring in my pocket. Once in the emergency room, my husband looked at me and he said, with tears in his eyes, "I threw my ring into the pool." I told him that I knew that and it was alright. He said, "I didn't mean to do that." At that point, I retrieved the ring from my pocket and placed it on his left hand. He said, "Thank you," with great relief. We cried together. This was not the first time that we would cry together. And the most amazing thing is that by the time I arrived back home the maintenance guy had just finished cleaning the pool. Would I have found the ring? This is just one of the many times that the hand of God was clear.