Choosing to SEE - Mary Beth Chapman [80]
This day, with its beauty and sweetness, was all we could have hoped and dreamed . . . even as we were aware, in sharp relief, of the day that our dreams had died when Maria left us. It was like a peek inside the curtain of eternity, and we all saw a little further than usual: Blessed be the name of the Lord, the One who gives and takes away!
Preceding Emily down the grassy aisle, Stevey Joy had served as the sole flower girl. She carried a Chinese lantern; within it was a beautiful monarch butterfly, in honor of Maria. As Stevey Joy arrived at Tanner’s side at the front, he bent and gently helped her open the lantern. The butterfly paused for a moment and then took flight off into the golden October evening.
After the service, everyone walked the short path to our glorified barn. We’d hired a great band, had awesome food, and we all cut loose.
At one point in the evening, Steven looked across the dance floor and saw his Uncle Barry, a staid Baptist, dancing with his daughter, who had actually been the flower girl at our wedding. There was his ninety-four-year-old grandmother, not exactly boogying, but smiling and tapping her toes from her wheelchair. There was Steven’s sister-in-law Sherry dancing with their adopted Chinese daughter, Leah Rose. My big, bald brother was doing spin moves on the floor, and then he’d pop up and dance with his wife and their two little ones from China.
There were so many beautiful adopted children there . . . so many children like Shaoey and Stevey Joy, dancing with everyone . . . once orphans, now laughing at the wedding feast. It was like every inhibition had been let go . . . not by alcohol or something external, but by the Holy Spirit, setting people free so they could dance.
For Steven, it was a realization of why Jesus loved weddings in His earthly life. And it was like a foretaste of heaven’s wedding banquet, when there will be no weeping or tears, when all will dance freely in the Father’s joy.
I danced and danced and had the time of my life. At one point, I sat down to take it all in. It was so right. I watched old friends talk and laugh, and new introductions take place among the young cousins and friends. I knew Maria would have wanted us to celebrate in this way; Emily’s wedding was a pure gift from God, giving us fresh wind under our tired wings.
From this sublime experience at the reception, we came to the less-than-sublime time when the bride and groom would leave for their honeymoon. Emily and Tanner had wanted to be surprised by what was thrown at them as they left the reception. We were happy to keep it a mystery but wanted to figure out something creative. We didn’t want to toss rice or birdseed or flower petals at our bride and groom. We didn’t want to blow bubbles or release balloons.
Finally, we’d come up with the ideal choice. I ordered hundreds of small stuffed bunnies from a toy manufacturer. We thought it was perfect: bunnies were a sign of fertility, and it would be so cute to gently pelt our bride and groom with neon-colored rabbits.
Even before the wedding, a few dozen of these rabbits had hopped over to the bridal-night hotel, waiting in the room for the bride and groom to arrive. Others had been stuffed in honeymoon luggage and dozens more inside every nook and cranny of the getaway car. The bunnies were multiplying.
I should have remembered that the bride’s brothers were seventeen and eighteen at the time, and the groom’s friends were not much more mature than that. So in the hands of these groomsmen and other wedding guests, the cute little bunnies became, you guessed it, airborne weapons.
Emily and Tanner were ready to go. They stood at the beautiful arbor that my father had made for them. The crowd was ready to say farewell,