I was one of hundreds of people who flew, drove, or carpooled to celebrate a marriage. It would be impossible to calculate the collective hours spent in preparation, though I heard a few stories. My own son worked for twenty hours grooming the yard of the bride's parents, for a breakfast party. A cousin from Pittsburgh made the cake and brought 200 edible flowers with her in the back seat. The grandmother of the groom was called in to shorten a bridesmaid's chiffon dress on Wedding Eve. The reception was a fairyland of billowing hand painted fabric, submerged tea lights, and bonsai trees. The desserts included dairy free, wheat free, egg free and gluten free choices. I was in the choir, which practiced a bunch of times, morphing over the schedules of two dozen folks who live in three cities and two countries.
There will no doubt be a slew of photographs chronicling the event. But in my heart I know, just scrolling through pictures in not enough. I had to be there. The affection that swirled around the cathedral, ricocheting between brothers and aunts, roommates and childhood friends was broader and in a higher frequency than can be captured on digital.
While there was an impressive quantity of people who engineered their lives to arrive in finery at the same spot on the same day, it does not explain the abundance of hope, anticipation and joy. Many people were moved to tears and laughter over the course of five hours. Something infused the event, something wider than obligation, sweeter than sentimentality, more permanent than a contract. You see obligation and contracts draw thousands of people to the Empire State Building for work every morning, and no one is dabbing their eyes for the privilege.
God is the difference. God tucks marriage in his upper breast pocket, shielded from low flying drones like cynicism and greed. He sends a flood of gladness, and for some the dose is overwhelming. I remember what I said to John at our son's wedding.
"This is my quota of happiness for the year." It was the only way I could find to quantify how I felt. It turns out I did feel more joy in the same calendar year. God is generous that way.
