First of all, I'm no wedding humbug, and I usually find a way to enjoy myself at weddings, but they are not my favorite occasion to attend. I think there's a stereotype that women love to go to weddings, and doubtless some do, but I would definitely not fall into that category. However, like I kept telling myself last night, you don't go to people's occasions (weddings, funerals, etc.) for yourself. You go for them.
My grandmas wanted to go, but my grandpas are wedding humbugs, and they didn't want to attend. So I offered to chauffeur Grandmas to the event - which was a bit over two hours north of where we live. The drive up was uneventful, but we could see clouds looming all around us, and encountered a few sprinkles here and there.
When we arrived, we made the first of a couple restroom visits that night. The wedding was scheduled to be held about 500 yards from a pavilion, in front of a koi pond and waterfall, on the banks of the Mississippi River. Eagle Point Park - it was a beautiful location, surrounded by rocky, limestone ledges and overhangs that would have provided lovely places to sit... if only...
We were instructed, as the bride arrived, to make our way down to the koi pond and find a place to sit. I was loaded down with three children, two grandmas, a purse, a diaper bag, and a lunchbox (with snacks and drinks in case of noisy kids), a cute pair of shoes, and a semi-decent hairdo. Reluctantly, I followed the groom's parents and the groomsmen in our informal trek to the koi pond area. As the koi pond was in sight, Levi started to run toward it in order to explore it. What else would a three year old boy do? Had the words "sensible shoes" entered my thoughts earlier that day during wardrobe selection, I could have possibly prevented his next antics, but they didn't, and I found myself unable to run and chase after him. So I just said a quick prayer that he wouldn't fall into the pond before I got there. I was trying to manage the maternal glare that often times will stop a child in his or her tracks before potential embarrassment ensues. However, this only works if the child is looking at you and not at the brightly colored fish inside the pond, whose edges he is skillfully, if not menacingly, treading. This is the first line of offense before the, sometimes necessary, always humiliating, redneck mom holler, with wording that can range from a simple, "Now you get down from there!" to the more threatening and infinitely more tacky, "You better get off that wall 'fore I snatch you baldheaded!" I haven't ever gotten to use the second one, but I think I could work it into my rotation if necessary. Anyway, I did end up having to resort to some type of holler - can't remember now exactly what that was, but he reluctantly stepped away from the pond, and, as we headed over to the rocky overhangs, the sky opened up and poured down heavy rain.
I tucked the children and our bags, as best I could, under the short, rocky overhangs to keep them dry. They, of course, weren't the most cooperative, as they didn't realize the rain was as heavy as it was. I stood outside the rocks being soaked to the skin, water pouring down my hair and into my eyes. It was at that moment that Levi decided to crawl into a hole between the rocks. When he emerged on the other side, he was covered in spider webs and little spiders were crawling on him. As I tried to remove the webs and brush off the spiders, he heard me say the word "spiders" and started dancing around squealing that he had spiders on him. That's when I asked him to jump to me - off the ledge. I grabbed him around the ribs as he jumped to me and his head bounced off of my forehead with a sickening sound. The pain radiated through my head and down my neck as the rain still fell in force, and I tucked him again under a rock ledge. I said another prayer for the rain to let up so that we could go back to where the grandmas were - under some trees closer to the pavilion, as we had been faster in coming down the hill than they.
As I looked at the sidewalk leading back up the hill - now covered in mud and mud puddles - I wanted to burst into tears. However, the rain backed off for a moment, and we started to make our way back up the hill. Levi got distracted again near the water fall, and a few more verbal threats got us back on our way. We met the grandmas, one of whom was having a terrible time with the walk, as she suffers from severe back pain. I slowed down to wait for her, while carrying Violet and trying to hold Grandma's arm. Despite the rain it was still a hot day, and combined with the stress, when we arrived back at the top, I felt sweat (or was it rain?) sliding down my back. I was soaked to the skin, the kids were dirty from the rocks, and I was in the midst of feeling disgusted with the whole situation when the preacher announced that they were going to start the ceremony in the pavilion right that moment. So we had to head into the pavilion and stand on one side or the other, as there were no chairs. You don't think much about your shoes unless they are hurting you, and then that's the only thing in the world you can think of at all. We stood for the next half hour or so, and I heard a few words the pastor said and every word my children said. Levi behaved quite well for having not had a nap and desperately wishing he was outside playing on the playground equipment. I held Violet the entire time, and it just made my feet feel as though I had gained 25 pounds.
Despite all of this, I felt a little misty as the vows were said as the ceremony came to a close. They are the sweetest couple and so very deserving of the happiness they are enjoying. I was glad, despite it all, that we could witness this day. It was the first outdoor wedding I had ever attended, and it was rained out. I would have enjoyed having my husband's assist on this one, but then there would have just been another wet, whining person who wanted to go home whom I would have had to convince to stay for the sake of the couple in front. As it was, Levi was asking every 10 seconds if we could please go home. I finally agreed it was time to go home, and we headed for the last trip to the restroom. As we neared the restroom, Levi peeled off and went into the men's room. I shouted for him to come back out, and he shouted back that he wanted to use the stand-up potty the big boys use. I said, "But mommy can't come in there with you." He came to the doorway with his shorts around his ankles and said, "It's fine, mommy. You can just wait here." The bathrooms were the type with no doors, and I figured he was fairly safe if I stood near the entrance. He headed back in and finished his business uneventfully. I was thankful for the indoor plumbing of the bathrooms but found myself wanting to curse the inventor of the stainless steel toilet. Why do parks have these horrible things? No matter how long you sit on them, they never warm up.
Someday, maybe not very many years from now, this newlywed couple will likely have a similar experience to mine yesterday. Mark and I often have older people come over to our table at a restaurant or see us out in a store and say something to the effect of, "These are the best days of your life. Cherish them." I don't know if it's because we look flustered or if it's because we have so many children, but, for some reason, people say this to us fairly often. After they leave the table, I sometimes look at Mark and say, "Yeah, it's easy to say that when you spend your winters golfing and shopping in Florida." We smile and have a chuckle about it. However, when it comes down to it, and we're having a difficult moment, we have begun to take a deep breath, look at one another, and say, "These are the best days of our lives." It doesn't change our circumstances, but it gives us wider perspective.
Perspective, after all, is central to a healthy attitude. For instance, this week I was teaching the girls out of a book called Properties of Ecosystems. It was discussing the word "niche" and talking about how each animal, plant, and person has a niche in the community in which they live - something they provide to others or the world around them and something they take. We were discussing a few different animals and plants, and when I asked what the niche of a tree is, Claire replied, "It gives us toothpicks." This struck me funny, as, obviously she was right, but in such a small way. Her perspective was narrowly focused at that moment. We discussed it some more and came up with a broader vision which included shade, oxygen, shelter, etc., but toothpicks were still an important part of a tree's niche, according to Claire, even though we rarely even use a toothpick in our house. Isn't it funny how we can be 100% right about something but still miss the wider vision?
I missed the wider vision yesterday. I think this is not uncommon to the experience of man. I think God uses this to remind us that no matter how much we know about Him or about the world around us, it's still just a tiny portion of what is true about Him. That's what makes me in love with Him - the expanse of immeasurable that is Him.
