of dads and promise rings

A number of months ago, I was up in a tree in my then-boyfriend-now-fiancée’s backyard. His six-year-old daughter was watching me climb intently, and noticed the shimmer on my finger. 

“Why are you wearing that ring?” she asked curiously. 

I thought about what to tell her. It took me back in time. 

I remembered going into Zales Jewelers with Dad as an awkward early teen to choose my “purity ring” or “promise ring.” I remembered being so shocked and touched that he was buying me an actual diamond ring. And not just that, it came with a little ceremony inspired by various authors and teachers in which I promised to my Dad that I would save myself for marriage, and that I would submit to his authority as to who would be a suitable husband for me in my future. 

I’d worn that ring ever since. Every day for fifteen years. Over those fifteen years, a lot changed. I began to recognize the downsides of “purity culture.” I eventually acknowledged the way the “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” attitude toward bodies and relationships had become more of an obstacle than a beneficial tool. I grew to recognize the patriarchal nature of promising myself to my father and my future husband, and noted how few of the sons in my community were wearing purity rings in comparison to the daughters. I learned to see how so many of us young women had been taught to see our bodies as dangerous temptations. I realized how fearful I was of not just sex or physical affection, but even my own body in and of itself. In some ways, the ring became a symbol of something I no longer stood for. 

But in those fifteen years, other things changed as well. With my Dad’s passing, the ring became much more than a purity promise. It was a gift, and it symbolized the hope of the future. 

So what would I say to her six-year-old question? 

“My Dad gave me this ring,” I said. “When he gave it to me, I promised him I would find one of the best guys to marry. Not just any guy, but the best guy.”

She thought for a moment about this. Then said, “I know! You could marry Daddy, he’s one of the best guys!” 

I told her I thought so too, and that Daddy and I were figuring that out together. 

Well, we figured it out. And last week, we made it official. As we loaded our little family into the van before Nate and I took off for our “proposal,” I showed her my promise ring again. 

“Do you remember what this ring is about?” I said. 

“Yeah!” she answered. “You told your Dad you’d marry a really good guy. Well, I guess you found him!” 

And just a few hours later, after listening to his words through tears of happiness, the new ring was ready for me. The one I’d been waiting for. I pulled off my old, worn, battered silver ring and replaced it with one of beautiful, shining gold. So much joy in that moment, but even that joy was tinged with the sorrow - or perhaps simply poignancy - of this exchange: the ending of one season and the start of another. 

Will I want my daughters to wear a purity ring? No, I don’t think so. But I think I will still want them to promise that they’ll marry one of the very best. Just like their Daddy. And just like mine.