My friend Vicky is remarkably low maintenance. When she came to Europe for a three-week visit last summer, she and her husband each carried a large backpack with all that they’d need so they’d have no luggage to check.

I was impressed. Every time I think I’m embracing simple living I realize how little I really know about simple living. I told Vicky I wouldn’t even consider using a piece of luggage without wheels, let alone something I’d have to carry on my back. I’m just not that kind of Grrrl.

I was thinking about Vicky today because she doesn’t wear a wedding ring. Yes, she has an engagement ring and wedding band, but she no longer wears them or any rings for that matter. She just doesn’t like jewelry.

In the last few years, I’ve often left my own modest diamond engagement and wedding rings behind and substituted a silver ring or a Native American band that E-Man gave me in its place. Those rings don’t snag on things while I’m cleaning, handling laundry, wearing gloves, searching for a coin in my jeans’ pockets, or running my fingers through my hair. Here in Belgium, married women generally wear a simple band on their right hands, so leaving my diamond behind seemed even less of an issue.

But recently I was at a gathering with a large group of American women and was struck by the unbelievable number of stunning diamond rings among them. Diamonds so large and flashy, they looked more like headlights than rings. Diamonds that dominated petite fingers and demanded to be noticed and admired. Diamonds swathed in gold and framed with even more diamonds. And hey, I admit it, I was impressed.

Suddenly my silver claddagh ring from the Museum of Modern Art felt less artistic and personal and more, well, small and plain. Was its plainness a symbol of confidence, practicality, and simple living--or something else altogether? Why doesn’t my original yellow-gold wedding set with the round diamond in a Tiffany setting and a design of vines and flowers on the band appeal to me much anymore?

I remember picking it out 25 years ago and in a moment of prescience, confiding to a friend that it was hard to choose a ring knowing it would be a choice you’d live with every day for the rest of your life!

Choosing my husband was easier.

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, there are ads everywhere for diamond rings. I find myself lingering over the newspaper inserts, clicking on online ads, and admiring the chunky white gold settings with the square-shaped princess-cut stones. Hmmm, wouldn’t it be nice to plant a three-stone ring on my left hand or a modern design on my right hand and make a new statement?

And then I consider the prices and wonder how I could ever justify the purchase of a piece of jewelry worth thousands of dollars.

Then I remind myself what we’ve spent on computer equipment in the past, and how a diamond is forever and will be passed on to my daughter and maybe even a grandchild. The computers, however, will end up in a recycling bin sooner rather than later.

But I couldn’t live without the computer.

Clearly I can live without diamond rings.

Time for a new approach to my dilemma.

Ah yes, here’s one. We sold our extra cars when we moved and the one car we do have, we bought used from E’s mother. We have a 24-inch ancient TV—a hand-me down! We don’t have cable or TiVO or any of that! I don’t own an iPod, a Blackberry, a video camera, or even a real stereo system. So what’s the big deal about coveting a new ring?

Here’s the big deal: I read a daily devotional book, and the day’s entry is about being responsible stewards of all that God has given us. Aaargh! I don’t want spiritual TRUTH, not after I’ve carefully constructed a pile of fabulous rationalizations!

I immediately pull a blanket of guilt over my head for even entertaining the idea of buying a new ring. I wish I had sackcloth and ashes to finish humbling myself.

But then I peek out again, seduced by the thought of a sparkling new diamond winking at me from my own hand. Why do I feel so conflicted for admiring something that's undeniably beautiful.  Hey, I’m not being greedy, pretentious, or wasteful.

Or am I?

February 8, 2006