There it is. Thirty-seven years ago Chris and I were down in Bay City, Texas, taking advantage of the major makeover the little Baptist church had undergone so they could proudly host the big-city wedding that was coming to town. My family trucked in from Galveston. Everybody we knew as a couple had to drive from Houston, where we were in school and where I was a youth pastor. That meant several of the kids from the church made the journey as well. Always a scary thought to have the youth group at your wedding. A few of them ended up joining us in the car as we tried to drive away from the reception. Wonder where they got such an idea? I don't remember ever telling them about the time I did that to a college friend. Hid in the front seat of his taxi, I did. Very funny stuff when the cab driver started laughing so hard he ran into the curb on the side of the road.
No big sit-down dinner for us as is the common thing these days. Just a simple reception with cake and punch and mints and peanuts. Then my brother whisked us off to where we had hidden our car behind the hotel. Having successfully avoided any would-be followers, we headed off for our wedding night in beautiful, downtown Alvin, Texas. It was half-way between Bay City and our apartment in Houston, so it seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, who goes to Alvin on purpose? And besides, the bed had one of those coin slots that made it vibrate. Very strange, by the way. Kind of made us seasick. Before we went to the hotel, though, we were very hungry. So what better place to stop for a romantic, wedding night supper than Jack-in-the-Box. We could get three of those greasy tacos for a dollar in those days, so for two bucks we were all set. Then we had to find some place that would send telegrams. Seriously. We sent a telegram to each set of our parents telling them thanks for … having us, I guess. Talk about old school. We were suckers for sentimentality. Still are.
Our honeymoon was spent in that wonderfully romantic town of San Antonio. I know what you are thinking. Long, quiet strolls along the River Walk. Checking out all of the restaurants and shopping places along the river bank. Not so much for us. See, at the time I had never heard of the River Walk. Don't think Chris had either. Oh, we saw a sign once. It was an arrow points down into a dark pit. I wasn't about to take my brand new wife anywhere that necessitated going closer to hell than I had to. Especially if I didn't know what awaited in the unknown darkness. Nope. I was her protector, right? So we stayed in one of those big hotels where we were charged ten cents for calling the front desk and asking for a wake-up call that never came. What a rip-off. We spent our starry-eyed days at the Alamo, the zoo, and the rides that were left over from some World's Fair or International exhibition that had been there. Of course it didn't matter where we were. We only had eyes for each other. And, at the risk of sounding really sappy and driving many of you out there to further tears at the very thought of it, that is still the case. I love that woman.
Song of Solomon 2:10-13 says, "My lover spoke and said to me, 'Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.'"
Father, thank you for my wife and for every experience we have shared together over these 37 years. We'll take however many more you have to offer us. Amen.
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