Weddings

My memories of Esther’s wedding are blurred snapshots full of happiness and joy.  I have few videos or pictures because I left my phone and camera behind.  I also turned off the part of the brain that writes Syra’s Scribbles as they unfold because, like being behind the camera, writing stories in my head takes me out of the moment. The words that should describe the glorious chapel and the service, what people did, and what they said are also missing. 

What I do remember is thinking over and over again that it was the happiest day of my life.  In so many ways it was even happier than my own wedding.  I wasn’t tired.  I wasn’t worried about anything.  All my children were there with me, and they were all doing well.  I know that all my boys danced with me, Justin the cha-cha, Jonah a fox-trot, Basil a swing step, and John Ben Berry twirled me around for a full song, but all I remember seeing is the smiles on their faces and feeling joy bubbling up from my feet and spinning up through my body into laughter and love.   Xenia danced with her brothers and conspired with her friends.  Across the room, I saw Sophia laughing and smiling with our loved ones.  Friends and family came from near and far across the country to share in the happy day, but my memories of them are a kaleidoscope of happy, friendly faces.  Their joy in being there with us multiplied the power of the celebration.

Esther was the most beautiful bride ever.  Joy shone from her face.  During the crowning, she looked like a queen and John Ben looked like a proper king.  Esther’s tears brought tears to my own eyes in a wave of powerful emotions.  It was the best thing ever to be the mother of the bride.

This morning I was wondering about a change in myself.  A year ago, I was a cynical old woman commiserating with my girlfriend about how we wouldn’t wish family life on anyone.  The cross and suffering that comes with marriage and children are sometimes overwhelming.  Children are total heartbreakers as we enter into their experience of the brokenness of the world. 

And yet here I am today wanting my own children to get married and start their own families.  Seeing Esther and John Ben at their wedding with so much love and hope in their countenances has won me over.  They reminded me of how much I love my husband and how much he loves me. 

My best friend Magdalena got married last weekend to Seraphim.  Being my age, they have lived their share of bad days, experienced poverty, and know all about the illnesses that afflict them.  They accept life with the traditional marriage vows because they have each other to have and to hold from their wedding day forward.  We all want prosperity and health for ourselves and our loved ones but know that the worst days are better, being poor is manageable, and we can bear our sickness with greater strength when we are with the people we love till death do us part.

Even after death, the love we have for those who have died still brings joy.  My new property in New Mexico is a place that Mom would have loved.  I hurt with regret when I see the fruit trees ripe with apples and plums that she didn’t live to see, but I enjoy them all the more knowing how much joy they would have brought her.  It’s been three and half years since Mom passed away and she feels closer than ever to me.

This morning I am not a cynical old woman.  I encourage everyone to open their hearts and love with all their might.  The roses of love are worth embracing despite the thorns.  Tell your mother you love her.  Make friends.  Get married.  Have children.  Life is better when we live it together.  Thank you for being my friend and being a part of my life.