Of Baby’s Breath, Wedding Lilies, Burial Urns, and Daily Glimpses of God
It rains now. Silver staccato on burnished green leaves; the roads a wet black.
And it reminds me of those teens several weeks ago, screeching and huddling under a single umbrella. Their four adult-sized figures spilled out from under the protective rain cover, while Blake yelled good-naturedly,
“You’re stealing my umbrella!” My daughter and three friends cuddled, huddled, and dashed across the food co-op’s parking lot to my grey Hyundai, laughing and jumping over puddles. And you have to lean close to share one umbrella in the rain.
These last two months have been a happy maelstrom of planning, shopping, preparing for, and savored-moment-by-moment milestones. My son, my oldest, strode into a university hall in swirling black robe and flat square hat, in line with others to receive four year’s worth of hard work in rolled parchment diploma. My view of him swam in teary ripples and I squeezed Mark’s hand, my heart beating in joy and pride.
“We made him!” I exclaimed. “That’s our son,” and my husband’s jaw muscles flinched in strong emotion too.
Three weeks later, my daughter strode in swirling crimson robe and flat square hat towards the stage to graduate from high school. I blinked back happy tears, squeezed Mark’s hand again, and smiled giddy through proud joyful shimmers that blocked my view.
“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered in her ear as we hugged on-stage, handed her diploma to her, and then walked to opposite ends of the stage.
In between, the days filled fast with …
- …Morgan’s graduation party errands. “Three hundred cups? What do you think? How many cups do people go through on hot days?” and I estimated how many gallons of lemonade to make.
- …John’s wedding errands and decisions. My husband cleared his throat, “So, after the ring bearer and the flower girl enter the room, we’ll have the ushers close the doors. When the kids get to the stage and are seated, Melanie will change the music to Canon in D. Danielle will rise, and, Kate, you can enter with your Dad whenever you are ready.”
- …And slipped in between white wedding lilies, and dotted baby’s breath in stone jar centerpieces for Morgan’s graduation party, my Dad and I planned his funerals and telephoned crematoriums. We talked of death certificates, estimating how many copies we would need, and asked about medical examiners.
- Him holding the umbrella in life’s storms saying, “Scooch in to stay dry” and laughing as we run together in the rain.
- We see this God in proud parent moments of squeezed hands and leaning in to say, “We are so proud of you!”
- I see him in savored family moments and in the gift of each time together.
- And we can see our Groom God as he watches in delight and jaw-clenching joy.
I’ve missed you. Thanks for peeking in. How are you? Catch me up in the comments below?