Joy and the unexpected

Many plans and hopes and dreams had been imagined and focused toward this March weekend. Our middle son was to be wed to his beautiful, full of life fiancée. Much care and planning and negotiation preceded the four day celebration. The weather forecast was for rain and a dip in the spring temperatures. Many people from many places descended upon St. Louis to stand alongside and be with our boy and his bride. Lots of moving parts, people doing their share, and now it was go time.

As parents of the groom, our big event and responsibility was around the rehearsal dinner. It was time to set up for the evening. As I got into our rental car, youngest son and his beautiful wife in the backseat, I looked into my side mirror and saw this:

If I had been able to see a more accurate and full picture of what actually lurked alongside, it would have been this:

After a screech and scrape of metal against metal, a little advice from the man in the backseat, and a panic response that led to the meeting of a left rear bumper and a brick wall, I took a big, deep breath. “Now I have to tell your dad” came out of my mouth. Heart pounding and feeling a little sick and sheepish, I drove around to meet my most loving and gracious husband.

No one, most of all me, wanted this unfortunate car vs dumpster situation to cloud or color the event before us. After apologies, contrition and an agreement that it was most important to put this aside until much later, we traveled to our downtown destination. I practiced deep breathing and resolved to settle down for this most important celebration before us. My backseat passenger and his dad noticed my elevated stress level and put strong fingers to shoulders to assist in relief. It was a generous and welcome laying on of hands.

After an hour of technology set up, a space in which I can feel most inept, we worked through the issues and were on our way to rehearse for the wedding ceremony. From that point, all went well on this day. The energy was high, relationships were made and renewed, stories were shared and growing up child and couple photos set to music were enjoyed. I went to bed most grateful.

Around 6am, we heard groaning and crying in the loft above our room. Our youngest girl complained of stomach pains and restless sleep. After some discussion, the diagnosis was that it was most likely a case of eating a bit “off diet” the previous night and nervous energy around her groomsmaid (she was going to stand on her brother’s side) role for the day. I headed off to an early AM yoga class – yes, I now have a daughter in law who enjoys this pursuit even more than I – and soaked up the relaxing and centering instruction. A most fitting start to a wedding day.

As I rolled back to our home base, the news of our littlest girl child getting sick in the bathroom and a return to sleep greeted me. I still held out hope that this was a one and done situation. After all, this was a very big day. Her brother was getting married. Dresses, shoes, hairstyles and ceremony had been talked of for months. This was no day for a stomach bug.

The forecasted rain and cold gave way to a day that looked like this:

We were on a fairly unforgiving schedule and continued to march through the day and show up at the places required. We arrived at the bride’s home with dresses in tow, makeup and hair bags ready to roll. Having a sister in law afforded our girls a much more stylish look than mom could provide. Sister in law got to curling and twisting and making beautiful. But the stomach continued to ache.

I felt a great deal of tension and turmoil as we navigated the next hours. Between getting my own clothes and makeup in place, I checked in with our girl. Any change? Do you think you are going to be sick, or the more hopeful do you feel any better now? The look on her face was not a promising one. Trying to isolate her in case we were dealing with contagion while also knowing that if virus was in fact the verdict, she had been all around these people for the past 24 hours. Hoping with all my might that she would be able to be a part. Huddling with my husband to make contingency plans. Clarifying that mother and father of the groom being present as much as possible was the primary goal.

Pictures were made and she was able to be a part. We traveled to the church. She and I located restrooms, talked, wandered and agonized. I tried to comfort and be steady and realistic. It was emotionally draining. It would be devastating for her to miss the wedding or the reception, or both. Our family really likes to eat and dance and celebrate together…

And then, I had clarity. One last trip to the bathroom. This was definitely a stomach bug. Once I leaned into what was and quit straining for what I wished to be, calm came over the mother of the groom. Our dear and gracious and amazing sister and brother-in-law took her to their hotel room. She was in good hands. I was relieved. As much as I wanted her there, now I could be fully present for our son. And the wedding began.

It was beautiful and poignant and my heart swelled with love for this boy who was entrusted to our care for such a short time. He heard words of wisdom, spoke powerful vows and made and received promises as this new family was formed. It was holy ground, a celebration and much delight was imparted to this mother’s heart.

His little sister walked into the reception for a few moments but knew she needed to be elsewhere to give honor to her own body and situation. We all felt sad that she wasn’t among us as we ate and laughed and danced. We were most grateful for family and not one but two unselfish aunts and uncles willing to miss out so that we could fully be there. Our extended family loved us well on this day.

Our youngest girl had made fast friends on Friday with a fellow 6^th grade boy from New York City while kicking a soccer ball and playing video games. His mom reported that he had a thing for sassy girls and was so sad to hear of the situation. Our girl’s sass had bowed down to sick on this particular day. He kept voicing hope that maybe she would come to the party for just a little while. I think he had hopes of dancing with our sassy girl.

During other segments of my journey, such an inopportune time for a fender bender and a stomach bug would have thrown me off balance in a more profound way. Though there were both deep disappointment and a wish for a partially different script on these days, the weekend was full of joy and laughter and tears and gratitude. We have another beautiful daughter in law and one more of our children has set up home with the one they love most deeply.

On Sunday morning, our girl woke up after about 14 hours of sleep and was almost as good as new. There were fifteen awful hours that came at a most unfortunate time. As we looked out the window on this day, we witnessed another short-lived snowy surprise. Sometimes the undesired or unpredictable happen.

Despite the twists and unexpected detours along this weekend, we still experienced great joy and true family, permeated with hope and the beauty of new beginnings. I believe this is an accurate picture of life and in particular life in partnership with another. There will be times of exhilaration and contentment coupled with periods of pain and unexpected sorrow. To this most dear to us newly joined husband and wife, when things go a bit or a great deal awry and the unexpected shows up in your days and years ahead, I wish you traveling mercies joined with true love and joy all along the way. We are most honored to be family with you.

 

Great love and emotion shared during our mother-son dance as the Avett brothers reminded us “…there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name.”

 

 

Who is your enemy?

That was the question voiced around the luncheon table of five, a group of women all living in our 6^th decade on break after listening to Sarah Bessey, author of Jesus Feminist. Our assignment was to share something that spoke to us during the morning. When my turn, I voiced that other than feeling that I had been born about 15 years too early, (the gracious voices of so many women author/bloggers with names like Sarah, Glennon, Jen, & Nadia are balm to my weary conservatively raised soul), my takeaway for the day was “love your enemies.”

In answer to the “who is your enemy” question, I did my best to express that in today’s political climate, I often feel that certain ideas and beliefs, sometimes held by those I love, are “my enemy”. In reality, it has become apparent that I am out of touch with a great many fellow citizens. The Donald Trump and overall Republican party direction has been a tremendous shock and blow to my personal sensibilities. Within my heart and mind, such an extremely different of point of view has become an enemy. At times, I have felt near panic over how to stop such a thundering avalanche of craziness.

The rise of Donald Trump is clearly tapping into something that is completely foreign to the experience of Tricia Wilson. If I just hunker down in my own corner and respond out of fear and disdain, then how am I any different from those on the Trump side of this equation? What in the world does it look like to honestly, on the ground, really and truly, love my enemy? I have no answers but am beginning to explore ideas.

I count myself as an open-minded person that can tolerate various points of view, yet it is always easiest when those views are close to my own. Though it is quite an exercise in restraint, I have decided that I need to try to better understand from where such passion and furor and downright meanness reported daily comes. Slowly, but surely, I have read the opinions of a few politically conservative voices to help me understand. Here and here is a start if you have any interest.

Attempting a level of understanding and just for a moment trying to put myself in the shoes of the enemy is a place to start. It doesn’t mean that I in any way, shape or form agree or support the often beyond disturbing expression of such people. But if I can’t tolerate their viewpoint, then my response is no different than the intolerance and hatred that I accuse of them.

Sometimes humor is the only way to make it through a given day. My recent favorite quotes said by people I love and share common thought, “[the Repubican primary race] feels like it is a “who gets thrown off the island next” situation. And, if Trump is so against immigrants coming to this country, he needs to stop marrying them. I hang out with funny people.

But humor and curiosity may not carry me through. At a point, it is no longer funny. There are lines that have been and I imagine will continue to be crossed. Any attempt to listen beyond the surface does not mean that I will not speak up or stay silent in the midst of hatred. I will not. Pledging allegiance and raising hands toward an egomaniac do bring up visions of Hitler. Building walls, threats to take out families and excluding people based on anything are counter to the Christianity in which I believe.

Squaring the love your enemies, make swords into plowshares God with the you must not be silent in the midst of injustice God is a complicated and confusing task. This week I have been challenged to take a baby step in what may be the toughest thing that Jesus asked his followers to do – love your enemies. I will continue to ponder just what that means in these most divisive days.