Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [142]
On this day, I sat before her as her daughter, with my beau, asking her to bless our marriage. She spoke just like a mother. It was a side of her that I had never seen. She spoke to Adeyemi first.
“What is your vision?”
“I want to support Iyanla in the work that she does. I believe in her, and I know what she does is very important. I am blessed to be a part of that.”
“No. That is not what I asked you. I asked what is your vision? Your vision for yourself.” I was getting a little nervous. I had never heard Dr. Barbara speak so sternly. Adeyemi’s response made me even more nervous.
“I have never thought about it. I’m not sure I have a vision. Right now, I feel so blessed that God has given me another chance to be with this woman whom I love so much. I wasn’t thinking about my own vision, I want to help her build her vision. I can’t answer your question right now because I’m not sure what my vision is.”
“Well, you better get sure. Your vision and Iyanla’s vision are not the same thing. That doesn’t mean that the two of you cannot work together or be together. I’m not saying that at all. I am saying that it is important for you to have your own vision, because God has your wife on a particular path.” I was relieved to hear her say, “your wife,” but she wasn’t finished.
“You seem to me to be a very nice man. I don’t really know you, but I have never heard anything but good things about you. This is what I want you to understand. God has placed Iyanla in the world to do something very special. She is doing God’s work. She doesn’t have time to cook and clean, and she will not be taken off her path. I know you want to be a part of her vision, but until you have a vision of your own, you must do everything you can to make sure she stays on the path. Can you do that?”
“Yes. I want to do that.”
“Okay. Let’s pray.”
There are few things that I know for sure about me. One of them is that I am married. I am so married that I will probably be married until the earth no longer exists. I am so married that if I ever thought about not being married, I would probably be struck by lightning.
The wedding ceremony was three hours long. Adeyemi’s mentor and godfather officiated. Dr. Barbara offered the prayers. Balé and Ray sat in the front row and had to give nods of approval before each part of the ceremony was concluded. The two hundred guests also participated, answering questions and giving their sanction to everything. My marriage was a sacred community affair that reinforced spiritual principles most of us never consider when we get married. I was the bride, and I had not considered most of them.
Baba Ishangi, the minister who married us, is a master teacher and cultural custodian. He wanted to make sure that Adeyemi and I, and all of the witnesses were completely clear about every aspect of the ceremony and what we expected from the marriage. The first ceremony was “tasting the tides of life.” Baba presented us with a plate that contained salt, pepper, and honey. He explained to us that life is not always going to be sweet; that as you move through life, you must be prepared to dance your way through whatever comes your way. He placed a spoonful of salt in my mouth. He talked about the bitterness of life and the bitterness that often comes into a relationship as time passes. He talked about the need to know how to move beyond bitterness by dancing over and around the things that really do not matter. With the mouthful of salt, I had to dance around Adeyemi, then he around me. By the time we were both