Lose a Ring

Have you ever noticed that sometimes it takes losing what we thought mattered most to discover what we actually need?

Last week I wrote about what donors really want out of their relationship with a nonprofit. The most common answer? A way for their children to experience life outside their comfort zone. That post told a junkyard story about changing a flat tire without a jack, which you can read here.

But one detail from that story deserves more attention.

As Jesse held the Datsun off the ground and I scrambled to swap the wheel, my brand-new high school class ring slipped out of my pocket. I didn’t realize it was gone until hours later, and by then it had disappeared for good. 

At the time, the loss stung—not just because of the money (though outside of my car stereo it was probably the most expensive thing I owned at the time). It stung because of what the ring symbolized.

Pleasanton had just opened a new high school, and we were the first class to attend, the first to graduate. There were no upperclassmen, no traditions. We were building everything from scratch. Amazingly, I met my future wife on the committee that chose the class mascot, colors, and logo. (I had the good sense not to propose right away, figuring I should at least wait till I had a drivers license).

Point being, that ring represented belonging and identity. It reminded me of friends, of belonging, even of my tiny hometown, Sunol, since the logo carried a symbol of it.

It was shiny, expensive, brand new—everything the junkyard was not. The only thing shiny in a junkyard is the sheen of engine oil.

But with Jesse straining to keep the truck aloft, none of that mattered. The ring didn’t fix flats. It didn’t keep us safe. It didn’t even cross my mind until it was gone.

Years later, I realized the loss of that ring had taught me something important: the ring was a symbol, but the junkyard gave me substance.

We often confuse the two. We cling to shiny tokens of identity or success, thinking they’ll carry us through. But it’s grit, adaptability, and perspective that actually get us through. Sometimes, we only realize that when the symbol slips away.

That lost ring became part of a bigger gain: perspective. It reminded me that substance matters more than polish.

Parents tell me they want their kids to “see the bigger world” and grow into generous adults. But too often they hope it happens without loss, without discomfort, without giving anything up.

The truth is, when kids step outside the bubble, they’re going to lose something—comfort, pride, even a piece of their identity. That’s not easy for them, or for their parents. But it’s part of the cost of growth.

A good parent doesn’t shield their child from that loss. They guide them through it—nudging, pushing, encouraging them to stretch, even if it stings. Different paces for different kids, of course. But almost all kids need a nudge.

If you want your kids to grow into adults who love the world well, let them lose a few “rings” along the way. Not because the loss is pleasant, but because it makes space for what truly matters.

So yes, sometimes it takes losing what we thought mattered most to discover what we actually need.

Footnote: I worked that summer to buy another ring. I still have it. Somewhere. I think.  It doesn’t matter.