Yesterday, while wife Chris was finishing up work on her last day at a local, art gallery (Her work was accepted at another gallery in a delightful, tourist town along the Big Lake just down the road and where she doesn’t have to work.), I attended God’s blessing (no civil marriage) of a friend I have known since church camp, high school, jr. college and Hope College days.
The bride (the old friend) and her spouse-to-be hobbled to the chancel — she crippled from polio and he a 15% survivor of a “widow maker” heart attack. It was a joy to witness this affirmation of life and love in spite of adversity and at the same time jarring to look around and be among the “lame, the halt and the blind.”
As I sat at a table with people who had gotten there with walkers, I rubbed my now bald head, sighed and then tried to reassure myself by affirming that I had both jogged for half an hour and cycled ten miles the day before.
On the way to the church, I listened to a rebroadcast of the late Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz and was taken back in time to a very sentimental place and many, many memories.
As I drove into the church parking lot, I gave thanks for the past in spite of the personal tragedies and for the fact that I would later stop off and buy Chris a slice of pizza and take it to her for a late lunch on her last day of work at the gallery she has been in for the last seven years.
In light of all the bad news, there are still good, tearful memories and joy over a wedding of two hopeful, old souls, a jog, a bike ride and a slice of pizza brought to my love.