Hand of God

waltky · 01-01-2012, 04:51 PM

Woman finds wedding ring after 16 years, on carrot...

Sweden: Wedding ring 'found on carrot' after 16 years
31 December 2011 - Lena Paahlsson and husband Ola say it is incredible that the ring has been found

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A Swedish woman has discovered her wedding ring on a carrot growing in her garden, 16 years after she lost it, says a newspaper. Lena Paahlsson had long ago lost hope of finding the ring, which she designed herself, reports Dagens Nyheter. The white-gold band, set with seven small diamonds, went missing in her kitchen in 1995, she told the paper.

Although the ring no longer fits, she hopes to have it enlarged so she can wear it again. Mrs Paahlsson and her family live on a farm near Mora in central Sweden. She took the ring off to do some Christmas baking with her daughters, but it disappeared from the work surface where it had been left, she explained to Dagens Nyheter.

The family searched everywhere and years later took up the tiling on the floor during renovations, in the hope of finding the ring. It was not until 16 years later when Mrs Paahlsson was pulling up carrots in her garden that she noticed one with the gold band fastened tightly around it. "The carrot was sprouting in the middle of the ring. It is quite incredible," her husband Ola said to the newspaper.

The couple believe the ring fell into a sink back in 1995 and was lost in vegetable peelings that were turned into compost or fed to their sheep. "I had given up hope," Mrs Paahlsson told Dagens Nyheter, adding that she wanted to have the ring adjusted to fit her. "Now that I have found the ring again I want to be able to use it," she said.

BBC News - Sweden: Wedding ring 'found on carrot' after 16 years

waltky · 01-03-2012, 03:51 PM

Tragedy ends with happy ending...

Woman Reunites With Biological Child 77 Years Later
January 2, 2012 — For most of her 100 years, Minka Disbrow tried to find out what became of the precious baby girl she gave up for adoption after being raped as a teen.

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She hoped, but never imagined, she'd see her Betty Jane again. The cruel act of violence bore in Disbrow an enduring love for the child. She kept a black and white photograph of the baby bundled in blankets and tucked inside a basket. It was the last she saw of the girl — until the phone rang in her California apartment in 2006 with the voice of an Alabama man and a story she could have only dreamed. Disbrow, the daughter of Dutch immigrants, weathered a harsh childhood milking cows on South Dakota dairy farms. Her stepfather thought high school was for city kids who had nothing else to do. She finished eighth grade in a country schoolhouse with just one teacher and worked long hours at the dairy.

On a summer day in 1928 while picnicking with girls from a sewing class, Disbrow and her friend Elizabeth were jumped by three men as they went for a walk in their long dresses. Both were raped. "We didn't know what to do. We didn't know what to say. So when we went back, nothing was said," Disbrow recalled. Months passed. Her body began to change. Disbrow, who had been told babies were brought by storks, didn't know what was happening. Her mother and stepfather sent her to a Lutheran home for pregnant girls. At 17, she gave birth to a blond-haired baby with a deep dimple in her chin and named her Betty Jane.

In her heart, Disbrow longed to keep her. But her head and her mother told her she couldn't bring an infant back to the farm. A pastor and his wife were looking to adopt a child. She hoped they could give Betty Jane the home she couldn't. "I loved that baby so much. I wanted what was best," Disbrow said. She never met them, or knew their names. But over the years, Disbrow wrote dozens of letters to the adoption agency to find out how her daughter was faring. The agency replied faithfully with updates until there was a change in management, and they eventually lost touch.

Disbrow's life went on. She married a fruit salesman who became a wartime pilot and drafting engineer and they had two children. She worked as a dressmaker, silk saleswoman and school cafeteria manager in cities spanning from Rhode Island to Minnesota and Northern California before moving to the seaside town of San Clemente an hour's drive north of San Diego. Every year, she thought about Betty Jane on her May 22 birthday. Five years ago, Disbrow prayed she might get the chance to see her. "Lord, if you would just let me see her," Disbrow remembers praying. "I promise you I will never bother her." On July 2, the phone rang.

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