Church on Sunday was about the gift of uncertainty. The minister played a game of cards inviting kids to pick one and he would tell them if it was black or red. He guessed black every time and was right. Then he showed the deck. No reds. Knowing that there was no uncertainty took the zip out of the game for me, although the kids were still eager for another turn. Having read The Little Engine that Could to my children a thousand times with no change in the outcome says something about the appeal of certainty. 

There was a wedding shower for a young bride in the afternoon. The hostess opened up her beautiful home, which has been the setting for many sweet events: dinner parties, marriage groups, birthdays, and housing extended families who have traveled from out of state. The table was laden with brownies, cut fruit, and chocolate covered pretzels, while the counter in the kitchen had a spray of two dozen dainty china tea cups with matching saucers. Mine said "Apple" inside. 

Each woman introduced herself, including her relationship to the couple. There were aunts, cousins, sisters, babysitters and babysitees. Others were running buddies and fellow clay slingers. People laughed over a quiz about the couple's first date and honeymoon destination, in between passing towels and kitchen gadgets around the circle. 

One guest had crafted a game. The idea is to play it at dinner, and each person has a number on their bowl. You take turns drawing a disk with a challenge on it. 

"Tell a fairy tale with number one as the hero."

"Try to make number four laugh."

"Talk to number six using only colors."

It was intriguing. I am motivated to try it at supper this week with my own special guests. I am uncertain about what will happen. 

The couple getting married in a few weeks have both the certainty of their covenant and the uncertainty of how life will evolve. It keeps things both safe... and interesting.