Sometimes perfect really happens
I admit it: I have spent most of my life cynical about weddings and pessimistic about marriage in general. So imagine my surprise when last Sunday, April 4, turned out to be about the most perfect wedding day I could ever imagine.
It was exactly the way I think all weddings should be. And exactly what I wanted. No party, no hoopla, just a small, private ceremony at home in the living room. But the weather turned out to be ridiculously warm and glorious for an early April day. So we had each of our family – our sons, our siblings and their families – grab a chair, a vase of flowers, and join us in the back yard. In the distance a cherry tree was just beginning to open in a delicate net of pink blossoms, fooled into thinking it was June. The Rabbi had brought with him the chuppah – that’s the canopy under which all Jewish weddings are held, signifying the shelter of the home – held aloft by each of our brothers.
I’ll tell you a secret. I was terrified. But I felt something else, too, and it was as palpable as the scent of the grass and the warm noontime sun. God was under that chuppah with me.
And so was my best friend. If I ever got really scared, all I had to do was glance at Bob. Oh, yeah. I know you.
After the marriage blessings and the Kiddush, Rabbi Orkand repeated aloud what he had asked us to write to him beforehand – why we were marrying each other. It had taken a lot of thought. I had recounted all those things I loved and admired about Bob – his warmth, his integrity, his extraordinary musical talent. But then I said this:
But none of these is the reason I am marrying Bob. I am marrying Bob because I trust him to be completely in my corner, no matter what happens in life, no matter what the challenge.
It was enough to make a believer in God, fairy tales, and miracles - and maybe even marriage – out of anyone. Even me.