Marriage Moats- Buttons
Published: Tue, 06/07/22
| Buttons | Caring for Marriage | ||||
 Photo by Jenny Stein Why do we want that row of tiny buttons on the back of a wedding dress? Zippers would be faster, or velcro for that matter. Buttons take time to sew on, to fasten, to undo. Yet for many people, a wedding is not about hurrying.
There is time that goes into the dating process, into the decision to marry. There are some traditions that are purposely slow. The way the wedding party saunters up the aisle may embody lovely attributes...elegance, unity, family. But haste is not one of them. Except for the overeager ring bearer who forgets all instructions and bolts, the journey is a mindful stroll.
Perhaps the pace is an effort to take in all the faces and feelings of the ten score cousins and coworkers, roommates and grandmothers who have donned their best earrings and made travel plans months in advance to be here, now with this couple. Each person feels the connecting heartstrings of heredity, history, and high school that gives him or her the right to attend this celebration. Everyone wants to be close enough to smell the roses, to hear their vows,
to taste the frosting.
There is, miraculously, enough joy to go around. No matter how many relatives crowd into the pews, the bride's splendor is not diminished by more misty eyes. The organ and strings are no less resonant for being shared by four hundred ears. There is no visible drain on the couple's ability to smile at each well wisher during the reception.
What began as a crescendoing climax, a gift to and also from the hundreds of people who are present, sometimes tragically ends in solitude.
When couples struggle, they hide.
The agony lies in the fact that all those people who came with sparkly gifts and spilling hearts did not disappear. They still care.
Imagine if instead of a series of strained phone calls and letters from attorneys, the course of action for a stumbling marriage harnessed the collective power of that wedding years past. Imagine if you sent out invitations to an identical guest list, to climb on planes and into cars to come and offer support. This time, instead of being the iridescent center of the festivities, the couple could slump in as an empty cup, needing to be filled. People
could compose messages, read aloud for all to hear. Memories, photographs and stories would nourish the hurting husband and wife. Like in the movie "It's a Wonderful Life" each loving person could express what this marriage means to them before it dies, what would have been lost if it had never been.
I wish that there were hundreds of tiny buttons, fastening us into this covenant. I wish that the exit was slower. The times when I have been invited in to give support have been a sacred trust.
If we could let those people near enough to see the tears, hear the pain, taste the failure, the buttons just might stay closed.
Love, Lori |
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