Yesterday afternoon, as I was heading home from work, I got a call from Devon. The week before, I had been away for the holiday and had to turn down several people needing help, so it felt especially good to be available — and to have my gear in the car — when Devon called.
Devon had lost something incredibly meaningful over the weekend: his grandfather’s ring. It had been passed down to him to wear on his wedding day and had been in the family for 55 years. He lost it while throwing a football in the Gulf late at night, and he said one of the hardest things he’s ever done was call his grandfather to tell him it was gone.
Thankfully, a coworker who heard him talking about it at work knew what I do and suggested he give me a call.
We met at the beach, and Devon was clearly anxious as he explained where he’d been in the water. I started making passes with my detector, pulling out some trash at first — each time hoping it might be the ring. I reminded myself that God’s will would be done either way, and I settled in for the hunt.
Eventually, I pushed out deeper into the June Grass — and that’s when I heard it. The unmistakable tone of gold.
I scooped up a mix of shells and sand — and there it was: Devon’s heirloom ring.
He hadn’t seen me find it, so I walked over and joked that I was taking a break because there was just so much random metal out there. I held out the scoop casually and said, “Take a look at the stuff I’m finding.”
Devon leaned in… and then saw it. His expression shifted from worry to absolute joy. He grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a hug.
He called his wife right away with the good news — but the best moment came when he FaceTimed his grandfather. The shock and joy on his face said it all. He said, “I can’t believe it,”!
I was thrilled myself. Moments like this are exactly why I do what I do. I’m incredibly grateful I could help continue the story of this special ring.
Congratulations, Devon — and thank you, and your colleague, for trusting me.
