On Saturday, Super-G & I had front row seats as our friend re-married her husband. They’d been divorced for enough years that this qualified as a miracle. It was a break-out-the-tissues moment, and I spent the entire ceremony trying to pick my jaw up out of my lap. Because even though I knew they were re-marrying each other–we flew down specifically for this event–the reality of it caught me off-guard.
It is an incredible thing to decide that the past does not define your present. For two people to reach this place at the same time? Then dare to dream together for the future? That left me slack jawed.
It’s God. Obviously. But perhaps I’ve grown so used to believing for more “everyday” sorts of miracles (city parking spaces, an outfit at a good price for an important event, a THIS DOG we’d love as much as we loved THAT DOG) I lost touch with the possibility of believing for something that matters this much. The new & improved Mr. & Mrs. Maney SCHOOLED me about faith on Saturday. Thank you to the fine couple for such a gift.
(Speaking of unexpected gifts…the day before the wedding, the Bride, her mother & her two sons introduced us to Hobby Lobby. Holy tchochke decor fun! All political posturing aside: this place is awesome. I love being a Northerner, but one thing that might lure me south is this schmorgasbord of whimsical chickenry! *The Bride coined this fine phrase – isn’t it perfect? I’m imagining an HGTV special built around this theme!)
We took a late flight home and landed back in Boston a little before midnight. THIS DOG wagged all 90 pounds of her spectacular self when Steve and I got home, and I spent almost an hour petting her and telling Steve in excited (over-caffinated) blurts all about our trip.
The next morning was our friend George’s funeral. It was an excellent funeral. You wouldn’t think there could be such a thing, but there is: it’s when your thoughts bounce back and forth between how much you’ll miss the person who died…but yet realize what an incredible job he did with the years he had. That’s the dream, right? To die having loved others well, with people in your life who love you? Easier said than done. As I blogged last week, George pulled it off.
I know there’s some deep theological point I should draw from being at these two events (each of which seemed unlikely not all that long before they happened) one right after another. All I can come up with is this: Follow God. Life is unpredictable, control is a lie. Having Jesus in your line of vision as you navigate increases the chance that you’ll end up in a place you want to be.
Now if I could only find that engraved on a whimsical chicken… :)