Today two of my favorite people on the planet married each other.
For both, this is their second marriage. The second time they've promised to love, and cherish, and have, and hold... forsaking all others—promising all of it "for as long as they both shall live."
We promise to do this thing "until death parts us." And the first time—you know, when you're 20-something and don't know much at all about marriage, or love, or the world... or anything, really—you speak those words like they mean "for a really long time," or maybe even "forever"... but in this far-off, distant, never-really-gonna-get-there way that makes sense, when you know everything—and nothing—all at once. 20-something.
This time around, they know—and I mean know—what they're promising. At 50-something, they've lived it. For one, the holding of the hands through decades of cancer's ravaging scourge, the hands cupping the face until the bitter end of the journey... gazing into wild eyes lost in the pain of this unnatural departure. For the other, the devastation of the broken vow, the fracturing of what was believed to be secure, unbreakable. "I would like to end it," and holding tight through the tempest of all that ensues. The devastated mother and son trying to find footing in the world gone mad, with the departure of dad.
I have prayed with, and for, both of these precious ones—each one walking the path of pain and loss and hope and trust, each one seeking the will of the One who holds them fast "while sea billows roll." So to see them find one another... and to find love again, in one another... has been one of the deepest joys of this season of my earthly life. Thank you, Lord, for redemption and joy and gladness, in the midst of all the pain and sorrow and grief that accompanies us on this journey called life.
I process things in poetry—always have. The urge is always strong to take to stanza and verse when I want to communicate something deep, and tricky, and a little bit elusive. This is the poem I wrote when they asked me to speak at their reception, sharing a little of what it has meant to walk through this with each of them, over years. As the one who has known each of them longer than anyone else—most in attendance had only known one or the other, but not both, for any length of time—I got to speak. This poem was part of my offering.*
The Gift of Such a One
“You find your Cheris and Kathys and Christines,"
I had told my girls.
“They don’t come around very often.
So you find ‘em and hold on tight!”
Something happens
when you’re friends with someone
from your youth
And you grow up together
Over years
And seasons
And seasons
And years
When you’re in it for the long haul.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
But you never really know for sure
Now do you?
Because sometimes you’re great
But sometimes you’re awful
And there’s no hiding it
from the forever friend
Gracious
And kind
And generous.
But sometimes rude
And selfish
And mean.
Arrogant
And proud
And so very self-absorbed
One can never really know
if the friendship
Is gonna hold.
Is gonna make it.
Is gonna take it.
Is gonna survive the different stages
And seasons.
And all the stuff
That dreams are made of
And fears
And hopes
When you walk through life.
Through pain and sickness and grief and loss.
There is only one that will never leave you nor forsake you
Never walk away
Never choose to go
But sometimes in the midst of all the betrayal
And all the loss
And all the fear
And all the pain
He gives the gift of one
who reaches out
And takes your hands.
“Ssshh. There, there.
Let’s walk together.”
And he wraps his fingers carefully in yours
Fixing his eyes firmly on what may come
Thank you for the gift of such a one
Who whispers, “I’m not going anywhere”
And somehow makes me believe it
And for a blessed handful few others
Thank you for bringing them to me
And then, to each other
*Wedding photo credits: Danielle Haudricourt
