Crystal-clear Conundrum

My anniversary was hard that year.  It fell between my brother dying and his memorial service and was about a month before the “divorce for cheap” emails in my husband’s inbox.  My husband had been gone for over two months, but we had not yet discussed divorce.  I had meant the “for better or for worse” part of my vows and wanted to believe maybe this was a passing phase.  I hoped the date itself would jar him in some way, perhaps make him think back on our wedding day the way I was…

We had decided on an outdoor wedding even though it was as hot as expected for mid-August in Alabama.  Something small and simple.  Daisies and baby’s breath.  Family and close friends.  Periwinkle bridesmaid dresses and accents.  Ferns, flowers and columns but nothing frou-frou, much to my grandmother’s dismay.  The ceremony and reception would be in a field near my sister’s house.  My brothers would roll out a white aisle runner before I started the walk toward my groom.  The campus minister who had invested in our lives for years would officiate the wedding.  Food would be set up under tents, but seating would be in open air with white chairs, white table cloths and periwinkle overlays, and simple centerpieces.  My grandmother had catered weddings for years, so I had no concerns about the food.  My aunt was a skilled baker and made a beautiful tri-layer, simple white cake with fresh flowers, set up on a three-tiered cake stand.  Every detail was going to be beautiful.  

My sister lived about fifteen minutes from where I grew up and about thirty minutes from my husband’s mom, but most of the wedding party and many of our guests were friends from college who would be driving in from out of town.  We didn’t want to ask them to pay for overnight accommodations, so we decided to do things our own way and have rehearsal breakfast the morning-of with rehearsal afterward.  Everything went smoothly at the run-through, and there was plenty of time for us girls to go to the beauty shop and get ready while the guys did whatever guys do before a wedding.  

Pictures were done a couple of hours before the ceremony by a couple of friends who volunteered their talent for my wedding day.  Last minute things were coming together.  All that was left to do was wait until time to walk down the aisle.  

Then the rain came.  Not just rain.  Thunderstorms.  And not just a passing summer storm, like we so often have in Alabama.  A line of thunderstorms, one after another on the radar.  

The wedding party gathered in my sister’s house to avoid ruining our dresses and suits.  The guests waited in their cars, some eventually heading back home before we ever started since we had to wait and wait and wait for a long enough break in the storms to get through the ceremony.  One of my brothers was trying to support the tent to help water pour off the edges rather than ruining the food.  My grandmother was in a tizzy.  And it was now dark.  

In a field with no lighting, during a break between thunderstorms, I was going to marry the man I loved very much.  My brothers rolled out the white runner, covering the wet ground, but my heel dug into the soft ground with every step, pulling the runner farther and farther from where the minister and bridal party stood.  I covered the final distance, white dress dragging the muddy ground, to reach my handsome soon-to-be husband.  I could see his face in the dim lighting, but the minister could barely see his notes, and with each camera flash, he struggled more to focus his vision.  Some things were out of order and repeated.  I could hear my grandmother snickering behind us, trying to contain her laughter at the craziness, but none of that mattered to me.  I figured it all made for good memories to share with our kids and grandkids one day.  

It’s funny how you imagine life together before it’s ever really begun.  I guess it makes sense though.  Why would you commit yourself to someone if you couldn’t see loving them till death do you part?  That was the very conundrum where I found myself on that anniversary.  Our fifteen year, supposed-to-be-crystal, anniversary, but there was nothing crystal clear at the time.  All of life was confusion, and God was not the author of confusion (1 Corinthians 14:33).