God Smiled…

“Mommy!  Do something!” 

As if it happened yesterday, I remember my daughter beseeching me with those words.  She seemed perilously close to losing it, at really the most inopportune moment:  We stood in a gorgeous antebellum parlor, bathed in glorious sunshine, awaiting our cue to slide open the pocket doors and walk down the aisle on her wedding day…

Four-years-ago today.

Mommy had been “doing something” – everything she could, in fact, for the past five-months while planning this wedding.  The bride-to-be had been amazingly calm and level-headed the whole time.  But now?  In this moment?  Short of saying, “Hold my high heels and watch this!” before running to call the FAA, I felt at a loss. 

For the previous hour, through centuries-old windows overlooking a white gravel driveway canopied by massive oaks, we’d watched our guests arrive.  They’d traveled so far to share in this day and now taken their seats on the lawn. 

We’d had a few tiny hiccups that morning:  Our dogsitter had called from home because our golden retriever was accidentally locked in the house alone.  The bartender hired for the wedding had shown up with a black lab and felt fine about letting it run through the reception tent; against the white linen tablecloths my mom had just spent two-days steaming.  Thanks to a last-minute shuffle of available bathrooms and the lack of time to keep searching for a light switch, I’d showered in near-total darkness.  We’d handled it all, though, and otherwise, everything seemed in perfect order.   

Including the weather:  A breathtakingly blue sky.  Pleasant sunshine.  Zero trace of humidity.  A true gift for an outdoor waterfront wedding in mid-July.  And good thing, because I look back now and marvel at the faith (or naivety?) we displayed in doing it all with absolutely no backup plan.    

We’d made it. 

But then… Out the same windows that had afforded us the idyllic view of our guests’ arrival, we now saw – seconds after we heard and felt – an airplane!  A roaring single engine one.  Barreling just above the treetops.  Toward the house.  Over the backyard ceremony site.  Toward the water.  Then circling back and doing it again… and again, and again.  Surely this was not happening! 

Not now!?

I’d actually watched that plane all week.  Miles away, across the water from where we’d worked so hard to curate this enchanting scene:  The most important day of our daughter’s life, and therefore, certainly one of the most important of ours.   

It all took place on Maryland’s Eastern Shore – which boasts a charming mix of beautiful water and working farmland.  The kind where they use crop dusting airplanes, which I usually find very cool to watch.  Except when one thunders in like an unexpected, uninvited guest at my daughter’s wedding!  With each deafening pass, I wondered, “Why?  On THIS day, at this exact time, does he come to do his thing on this side of the water?  …And does he mean to be that low??”

Turns out, I didn’t have to call the FAA.  We held our breath hoping that each roar would be the last.  Eventually it was.  He bugged out and went home just in the nick of time.  (We’d later learn that our guests, giving us far more credit than we deserved, found it exciting and thought we’d planned it all to entertain them!)   

……..

Canon in D replaced the roar.  My son walked me down the aisle. 

Moments later, the red doors of the veranda opened, and out walked the most stunning bride I have ever seen.  On the arm of the most handsome father-of-the-bride – whose emotions I could feel as though my own.  Her smile was pure sunshine.  Watching them approach her handsome, clearly awestruck groom - our new son – felt, in every way, surreal.   

So many people loved this beautiful couple and had long anticipated this day.  A true sense of pure joy filled the air. 

Had we waited forever for this moment?  Or had it come in the blink of an eye?    

…They’d become engaged late that January.  One month after her college graduation; nearly a year after his.  They’d patiently and diligently focused on their education and on beginning careers.  They hadn’t rushed to this day, and I always admired that. 

Our sweet son-in-law had visited my husband in his office to ask his blessing, which he wholeheartedly received.  We had also loved him for a long time… 

Seven-years earlier, on a mid-December night, I had discreetly dropped our 16-year-old daughter off at a movie theater for her first date.  With a young man whose name I knew, but not well enough to send her off in a car with him.  When she told me he’d asked her to go to a movie, I could clearly see that she wanted to say yes.  Her dad and I agreed, with that one caveat about how she’d get there.  (Also, with the theater way closer to his house than ours, he would have driven over an hour round-trip to pick her up.  That probably helped with her willingness to accept our terms…)  I dropped her off at the far end of the parking lot and promised to pick her up later in the same place.  But after their movie, that young man (clad in short sleeves despite the temperature) walked her all the way there.  He came up to my window, and though visibly hunching against the cold on his voluntary long walk, with smiling and sincere blue eyes, looked right into mine and thanked me for bringing her.

From that very moment, I just somehow knew… 

Imagine how honored I felt when, after his talk with her Daddy, he invited me to go with him to pick a ring for our girl.  Of course, I accepted.  I also planned to keep my mouth shut!  Any ring he chose would be perfect.  And yet, from the stone to the setting – everything he did choose really was.  I will treasure that experience forever. 

With that gorgeous ring in his pocket, we knew something big was coming - we just didn’t know when.  He carried it around for over a week!  Once he finally did drop down to one knee and get his “yes,” our excitement for them was matched only by relief:  We hadn’t slipped up and blown his secret while waiting for him to decide on the exact right time! 

That feels like the last thing we “waited” for in the entire process, because from then on – it all seemed to move in fast forward.

Upon their engagement, they considered a December wedding.  Almost a year to plan.  We’d just begun researching venues, when something else big happened:  They found a house they loved.  Sometimes home shopping and buying drags on and on.  Not this time.  As if completely meant to be, everything moved smoothly and swiftly.  They closed on the house within a few weeks.  December was still a long way off. 

I suppose it was my fault that the afterburners kicked on here… I knew that once they had their house, they’d be rightfully excited to move in.  Only – they’d made it this long:  Seven-years, patiently working each step of the way toward beginning their real life together.  I vividly remember the special excitement and sense of newness my husband and I felt when we got to move into our first home together.  As newlyweds - not before.  Quite honestly, I really wanted that for our kids, too.  So, I tossed out a question:  What if we could move up the wedding date?  It might require some creativity, but it wasn’t impossible!  And just like that:  December (and a year to plan) became a distant memory.  July 14 (just five months away) it would be!    

With no time to waste, we needed to pick a location.  A dear friend generously offered a beautiful waterfront estate – 300-miles away.  We wistfully, briefly, dreamed of how magical that could be, but felt we must decline.  We’d started a guest list:  Two huge families.  So many friends.  We couldn’t ask that many people to travel that far for this wedding.  Instead, we settled on a private location close to home.  We arranged catering and booked rentals – everything from tables and chairs to twinkle lights.  We ordered flowers.  She said yes to the dress!  

The guest list continued to grow. 

So did the overwhelm…

Until one March night…  With time getting shorter, everything else about this wedding seemed to get larger each day.  Complications and tension grew, too.  (Wedding planning is often tagged as one of life’s most stressful times.  We now understand why.)  On this particular evening, my husband had escaped to the garage following another slightly heated discussion about how out-of-control this thing was getting.  He returned a short time later, saying that something felt funny in his chest…  We’ve seen and heard enough sad stories.  Not playing around with that, we all insisted he let me take him to the ER.  Thankfully, the next few hours revealed nothing catastrophic, but his blood pressure was extremely high:  A problem he’d never had before. 

Our kids waited and worried.  This kind of thing doesn’t happen to their dad – their seemingly invincible superhero.  When I finally called and assuaged their worst fears, grateful relief wasn’t quite enough for our daughter.  With newfound clarity, perspective - and conviction - she asserted, “Forget all this wedding stuff!  I don’t want any of it!  It’s not worth this!”  And we knew she meant it.  Our sweet, beautiful girl who’d never caused us a day’s trouble in her life would willingly give up the day all little girls dream of … 

But no.  Because we wanted it for her. 

That’s when my newfound clarity kicked in:  What we wanted for her wasn’t… this. 

It had nothing to do with several hundred guests or all the moving parts we’d created. 

It had everything to do with love: 

Between a beautiful couple who had grown together toward this day for seven years. 

The love of their families and dearest friends for them. 

The love of God shining over it all. 

How had we gotten swept so far away from that? 

I still remember the exact moment (in our living room, just home from the ER) when I said, “It’s not too late to change our plans… Who says we can’t?” 

Then, just like that - we did.

One phone call confirmed that the offer of their dream venue 300-miles away still stood.  We whittled the guest list to most immediate family and closest friends – the ones we knew wouldn’t miss this day no matter where it happened.  More calls undid plans we’d already made, with no major complications.  As we made new plans, it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted.  We still had much to do and not much time – but now, it finally felt right.    

……..

One recent evening, considering the approach of today – their fourth anniversary – our whole family ended up reflecting. 

My son’s girlfriend, who didn’t come along until a couple of years after that unforgettable day, expressed how she wishes she’d been around back then.  Then she asked my daughter, “Did your wedding turn out just like you imagined it?”  Hearing the answer to that question, four-years later, filled my heart all over again…

“In some ways, yes.  In others, no,” my daughter said, “because it was just so much more than I ever imagined.  I still remember getting dressed, looking out the window at it all, and not believing that this was my wedding…”  My son-in-law agreed, “It is still the best one ever…” 

That’s exactly how I remember it, too. 

That’s how I want them to remember it.    

Especially when things get tough.  In every marriage, they do and will.     

I want them to remember all the unexpected twists and turns (including a crop duster!) and how none of it ever really mattered compared to their love for each other - and the true joy in that day because of it.  I want them to remember the love that surrounded them that day.  That it still does and always will. 

I’ll always believe God truly smiled on them that day. 

May He always.