I did a wedding last night over in
Baytown. It was not one of those high
dollar, San Luis Hotel, super-classy affairs.
Just a very simple, backyard, “just family and the couple next door”
kind of experience. Oh, and it was
hot. One of those huge shop box fans was
whirling full force in the garage, keeping the French onion dip cool, as well
as whoever was lucky enough to finagle a position in its path. The
Old Smokey was heating up in the driveway out front, waiting for the burgers
and hot dogs and sausage that were to come after the business at hand was
completed. Ol’ Tammy the Doberman was
sprawled out in just the right spot to welcome new arrivals, but not with a
bark or even a growl. No, not Tammy. Her “how do you do” was more of a flicker of
an eyelash and perhaps a barely discernible twitch of an ear.
Outside in the backyard there was not much
of a breeze, but the yard was completely shaded by some fully mature, really
tall pecan trees, so there was plenty of shade.
The groom told me he had spent all day mowing the grass and cleaning up
the yard. Lawn chairs dotted the
landscape in the backyard near the area marked with a smattering of rose petals
as the centerpoint of the ceremony.
Nearby the trampoline sat quiet, as did the dirt racing car firmly
affixed to its trailer. All in all, it
was the perfect setting for a down-home, “let’s get hitched without all the
fru-fru” wedding.
The bride was determined to start on time
no matter what. Never a good plan when a
wedding is involved. “On time” is most
often wishful thinking in the matrimonial realm. Sure enough the groom’s sister got lost and
called for help. It didn’t take all that
long to locate her and get her redirected to the proper venue.
When we finally got started, just about
every cell phone on the property was filming or snapping stills, no doubt
outshining anything a professional photographer would have come up with. The groom wore jeans and the bride wore a
shirt with some encouraging words on it, and they both sported flip-flops. Two little flower girls were cute as buttons
in their white dresses and oversized baskets filled with petals. The maid of honor held not only the groom’s
ring, but also her five-month-old little girl.
The best man has his hands full with the bride’s ring and his phone,
which was doubling as the sound system for music. I must say he handled that job masterfully,
especially when a buddy of his called and caused the music to shut off. Three times.
He moved quickly, though, and managed a smooth, rapid restart time every
time.
Now, I have had some really unusual things
happen in weddings, and most of the time they occur about the time I read 1
Corinthians 13 from the Bible. Something
about Scripture always causes glitches from the unholy portion of the spiritual
realm. This wedding was no
different. As I read, an occasional drop
of … something … fell on the bride and the groom and even on me. At first I thought it might be a little
summer shower, but a quick glance around nixed that idea. Drop.
Drop. Bouncing off my shoulder. I seemed to be the sole target now. Drop. Drop. I have to admit, I had another idea about
what it might be borne from my years of experience doing weddings on and near
the beach. Seagulls can be indiscriminate
creatures.
But we were under a virtual canopy of tree branches.
A dive bomb was virtually
impossible. And for it to continue with
such regularity was unheard of.
Drop. Drop. PLOP. There
it was. A much larger chunk suddenly graced
the page of my wedding book, splattering debris as it struck onto my arm as
well. And just as I read “Love is
patient,” another bomb hit my book, so I added, “and so must we be, even with
this extra attention from above.” And
just about that time the best man, who had totally forgotten the wedding and
was scanning the treetops like a hunter stalking his prey, loudly proclaimed, “There
he is. It’s a squirrel up in the tree.” Sure enough, an uninvited little guest was
tossing partially eaten pecans at us.
After all, we had so rudely
intruded upon his private dining facility.
Fortunately we were near the end of the ceremony, so he graciously allowed
us to continue without further pecan peeling pelting.
The reception was an intimate affair for
the family. The homemade wedding cake
and groom’s cake were great creations, and the burgers and sausages smelled
delicious. But Chris and I were anxious
to get back home, so we bade them all farewell and headed back to the
Island.
Ephesians 5:31 says, “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united
to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.”
Father, watch over that young couple as
they continue in their life together.
Amen.
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