So when things got cranked up on Friday, I genuinely expected it would all go as smooth as silk.
I expected wrong.
Friday, I was blessed to have a church friend stay with Mary Frances according to her preference so she could save her energy for Saturday. That went well.
And our trip to Winston Salem was safe. Praises.
But as we walked into the lovely Moravian church for rehearsal setup the sole of my right shoe suddenly and dramatically separated from the upper, nearly sending me sprawling. I couldn’t even walk without tripping. I was a circus clown flapping around. I had to have another pair of shoes.
So I quickly googled shoe stores near me and found a SAS store 3.8 miles away.
In the meantime, Earle realized that I needed a micro HTMI to mini HTMI cable. Or the 110 slide Powerpoint Presentation of photographs of the bride and groom growing up that I had spent umpteen hours preparing for the reception would not be playable from my computer.
So after a brief discussion, with an hour to go before rehearsal, we set out.
I had been high strung all day, nervous as a cat in a dog house, so entering a new shoestore staffed by two welcoming ladies with no other customers was, I’m not gonna lie, satisfying. They grabbed every brown pair of shoes in the store, engaging me with wedding questions all the while. They gave Earle directions to the Best Buy and off he went. I purchased a nice pair of tasseled loafers and waited, eating chocolate from my sales ladies, for Earle’s return. Which didn’t take long.
When he pulled in front of the store, I checked my watch. We had 30 minutes left. Awesome!
Except it wasn’t.
He hadn’t found the Best Buy. But he was determined to save the day (and to insure all my PP efforts paid off.) So we pulled out our phones and searched. We headed back out. He had ALMOST gotten there the first time.
Except. Rush hour traffic. Lots of it. We were awash in a sea of cars.
It took time. So much that Zack got worried and called. I was waiting in the car while Earle ran into Best Buy. Earle was in the store, had found a cable and was caught behind a woman chatting with the saleswoman about how happy she was to find Polaroid film while the line grew behind him.
Back in the car my anxiety cranked and cranked and cranked. We had T-10 for the rehearsal. Earle at last reappeared, jumped in the car. According to Google maps we’d be back to the church in 15 minutes.
Except traffic. MORE of it. Nail-bitingly bumper to bumper.
My anxiety grew.
We eased towards the church. And then - FULL STOP. At the third cycle of ONE stoplight I about lost it. Not knowing whether to vomit or cry, I texted a friend and asked for prayer. I was missing my own son’s rehearsal. 100 times worse than missing anything I could think of. I was crushed. My husband, who usually rants at traffic, was mollifingly quiet.
At last we made our way forward and found to our dismay it had been a three car accident. Maybe being late wasn’t the worst thing that could happen after all.
Defeated, we arrived at the church at 4:30 pm to find everyone clustered around the foyer. Their genuine concern and reassurance in the face of our frazzled and regret filled entry warmed and lifted us. My older son’s wife had stood in for me in the first run-through and shored me up with encouragement. I received hugs and shook hands as I offered apologies. It was messy, it was embarrassing. It was love. Because in our deepest times of vulnerability, when we feel like failures or ridiculous, we are lifted up and buoyed by family, old and new, who accept us where we are and as we are, who assign the purest motives to our mistakes and who welcome us, regardless. In that moment, our two families became one.
Other small mishaps tried to make us stumble. But they didn’t.
Earle ultimately bought the wrong cable, frustrated when the one he wanted wasn’t available. But my older son, Nat, got the slides playing on the Mother-of-the-Bride’s laptop.
The salmon from the rehearsal dinner tried to upset the tummies of some of the wedding party. But the magic of over-the-counter medication saved the day.
My Mother-of-the-Groom dress’s zipper threatened to stick, but finally relented. The lace bodice sagged once the corsage was added, but the wedding coordinator, Nancy, magically appeared with safety pins and the Matron of Honor and the Bridesmaid used them to snugly pin me in.
It was a beautiful mountain top moment when we gathered at the rear of the church. Nat ushered me to my seat, followed by my husband. I caught sight of family members and friends along the way which warmed me even more. Minutes later, the Groom, his best man and “best boy” entered the sanctuary from the front. My heart soared. The music soared. Time for the Bride.
Rebecca, looking both radiant and ethereal, entered on the arm of her father. She was poised and graceful. But as she approached the front of the church where I sat, I saw her blinking. I saw feeling and tenderness in her expression. I could feel the echo of those feelings in myself as my own tears began to gather.
The Father-of-the-Bride gave her away and the moment became more touched with grace. I could not see the Groom’s face clearly, but I could see the Bride’s. The tears were threatening to spill down my cheeks and I wondered if the same fate would befall her. The Officiate began reading the words of I Corithians: 13. The stage was set for Maximum Emotion.
Except.
Somewhere behind me a cell phone went off. And it was loud. And it had a musical ringtone. And it was playing something by Guns and Roses. And it went on and on. And it was at my son’s wedding. And it was my Sister’s phone.
The tears lost their hold on me and I could barely keep myself from laughing. A quick glance at the Bride told me she must feel the same, for though the ceremony and the covenant were solemn and sweet, surely the pure joy of life and love infused it. Life happens, and we carry on anyway.
When the ceremony came to a close and Zack and Rebecca were declared husband and wife, and shared a sweet kiss to the delight of all, when the wedding party made their way back down the aisle and the parents of the couple followed, I found a happy knot clustered in a room off of the foyer. I apologized, laughing about my sister’s phone and the bride reassured me that it helped her. That it helped keep her together. As it did me. And I think it did for the Mother-of-the-Bride, too.
Because you can’t plan these glorious, unexpected, lives we lead. But we can celebrate the good, cherish the sacred, feast upon the joy that is offered us each and every day in surprising and miraculous ways.
Even though our emotions may karoom around like a bumper car in a carnival.
Because it’s all good. Even when it’s unexpected.
Congratulations, Rebecca and Zack. All my love to you both.
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| The Bride and Groom surrounded by me and my girlfriends. |
