Saturday, September 05, 2015
I wrote the order by hand. The readings, the prayers. All of it. It was a meditation at the time, and remains so when I pick it up.
The parish liturgist and I drafted the liturgy, winnowing down the choices for Math Man, who wasn't Catholic. Not Mass. Bride and groom down the aisle together. No video recording (though Math Man's aunt made a surreptitious recording of it, I noticed looking at the photos tonight the camera in her husband's hands as they came out of the church. ) No photos taken during the ceremony. Just around the edges.
At the end of it all, before we recessed down the aisle, Math Man (whose maternal family was Jewish) broke a glass. I like the rabbinical readings of that tradition that emphasize the intermingling of joy and sorrow, apt for this wedding of a widow, and can still hear the voice of my elderly Jewish colleague call "Mazel tov!"
Many of our choices in and out of the liturgy were about keeping the focus on the sacrament, being present to what was happening and being attentive to the people coming to celebrate with us. No bridesmaid's uniform, or tuxes for the groomsmen. Wear something garden-party-ish. No micromanaging. Unfancy food and games for the kids a hedge over from the reception, so kids and parents could be where they needed to be.
Flowers? Ordered the week ahead of time from a florist who didn't faint when I said I needed wedding flowers in ten days time, and didn't care much about color or composition. I still look at the bouquet and think how lovely it was. And Math Man's boutonniere is dried and carefully stored in a jar on my dresser. We had a wonderful time celebrating with our families and friends, all the more since we let go of many of the details.
As I knelt in the back of the church today for a brief moment, I rejoiced again in the gift of Math Man's love, and the ongoing support of the community of faith we live in and of our families and friends.
Math Man is away today, the first time we've been separated on our anniversary, many time zones to the east. He called via FaceTime as I was talking to my dad. "Sorry, Dad, it's Math Man -- have to go!" Math Man wondered if my dad minded knowing he was second on my list. Nope!