Roll with the punches

…not even Mother Nature would ruin our daughter’s dream wedding.

After a beautiful, warm, early fall week at our beach rental, it rained all day—on both Friday and Saturday. We had made so many preparations for our daughter’s on-the-beach wedding, it seemed quite the shame that we would have to fall back on ‘Plan B’… relocating to the tiny sanctuary in the church where the reception would be held.

By the time Saturday rolled around, however, and our daughter Tamara was peacefully making her final preparations for joining together with her beloved Graham, it no longer mattered. In several hours, their joy would be complete, and they would be celebrating with beloved family and friends, a wonderful send-off full of smiles, hugs, wellwishes … and chocolate from the delightful “candy bar” set-up at the reception.

With last-minute music rehearsals, sermon preparations, decorations and outfitting, we made sure that we knew where our umbrellas were so that all of this beauty would not get drenched. Not even Mother Nature would ruin our daughter’s dream wedding at her much-loved Emerald Isle, where our family had camped and vacationed for most of her life.

After having pastored churches for 30 years, I have come to realize that weddings often take on a life of their own regardless of how well you plan. It only takes one wrinkly aisle cloth, one clumsy groomsman, one dropped (or forgotten) ring, or (shudder) a local fisherman barreling through the wedding area on a company truck and all of a sudden those “best-laid plans” fall prey to the unexpected. Fortunately, this usually ends up providing some comic relief during one of the most stressful times of one’s life. Accordingly, I have saved myself from much of the damaging effects of said stress by learning to roll with the punches.

This day would certainly challenge the “roll” mechanism in us all … as the afternoon unfolded.

We made the call to relocate at the absolute last minute since there was no way to inform guests ahead of time. They would all be waiting at the Park Street public access to the beach for instructions on where to go and what to do.

Treasured friends and family from over the years had driven and flown in to share in the event, and I knew they would be waiting, eager to see how we would pull this off. Regardless, we were determined that the word “disappointing” would not be a part of any of our conversations.

On the way to Mile Marker 15, I answered my cell phone to hear my wife’s hopefulbeyond-belief assessment of the situation: “It looks like it’s cleared off some to the north.” I had not even noticed that my windshield wipers were only encountering mist (after two days of drenching rain). As I pulled into the lot and greeted all our friends—from ages 18 months to 92 years, even the misting had stopped. With threatening clouds everywhere—but a strip of bright sky far off on the horizon—everyone seemed to vote by telepathy (or at the very least, goofy, gutsy grins) to go for it!

As risky as anything we had ever done, we pulled out the rental chairs, dragged out sound equipment and guitars, invited everyone to lend a hand, and set up at the water’s edge.

Within 40 minutes of our expected start time, the wedding party began its barefoot trek to the most perfect of altars I had ever seen—a small hemp table in front of God’s beautiful creation. Shades of light orange, turquoise, and khaki graced the beach as the groomsmen, bridesmaids, bridesmen and groomsmaids (yes, you read correctly) calmly stepped to their appointed places. Finally, both parents of the groom and both parents of the bride brought in their beloved children. After seating the mothers, the two fathers found their places as pastors and officiants, and with incredible expectation in every way, the ceremony for these two young people to start the rest of their lives together—through promise and faith— began.

The portable sound equipment worked flawlessly! Volunteers shared their video and audio skills with perfection! The waves lapped at the feet of the bride’s attendants but came no further! With vows, sermon, rings and even seashell necklaces created by the couple to exchange (in lieu of the unity candle), the event was almost like a fairy-tale. During the song “Longer Than” (I kid you not), schools of fish were incredibly visible in the huge backdrop waves just as the line was sung, “Longer than there’ve been fishes in the ocean…” During this song, they took the first steps of their journey together with a brief, symbolic walk to the water’s edge. “We’ll fly through the falls and summers…with love on our wings…”

That’s when the truck came barreling through.

As my young son would say, “What th’ schmuggett!” Logic would dictate that it’s not very nice to crash a wedding, especially with a truck, but apparently after a day of fishing, logic does not apply. Graham and Tamara paused to stay out of the truck’s path, then came on back to their place, were blessed, pronounced husband and wife, kissed, and left the beach as a mess of seagulls took flight and the congregation was led in singing “All You Need Is Love” by the Beatles. Frankly, I think quick reflexes aren’t so bad to have, as well!

With the last photos snapped by our gracious and respectful photographer, the rental chairs stacked back on the pallet, and the equipment safely loaded in the van, the mist returned.

By the time we were on the road to the church, it was again pouring down rain. Apparently, God’s deal with Mother Nature had reached its limit. That was OK with us, though—nothing else mattered at this point. The love birds were on their way, but more importantly: Tamara had her dream wedding … and everyone and everything seemed to bow in deference to that dream. Let the rain come! We’ll take it—with gratitude!

A lot of prayers were answered that day. As thankful as we were to our church people for lifting up those prayers, we didn’t really expect the Almighty to intervene with respect to the weather, but we are very sure that He did! The beach has been good to our family, and I know we will continue to enjoy its offerings for many years to come.

Who knows? Maybe we’ll retire down here. In the meantime, we’ll just keep rolling with the punches and packing away the memories— the kind that only cherished family and dear friends can make.

And as for the renegade wedding-crashing fisherman? I suppose we’ll file him away in the “Truth is stranger than fiction” department … or perhaps “That which does not destroy you will make you stronger.” Or better yet, “Did anyone get the number of that truck?” €