This reminder - that there is still work to be done - filled me with a sense of reality and of evanescence. Furthermore, it was a feeling of inspiration and truth. Those golden words: there is still work to be done, filled me with the sense of an eternity earned.
Certainly, the kind of work Father Robert was referring to was not only that of the work which provides us our income. He was talking about the labor of love too. What I heard was actually a marriage of those two things. The work to be done which provides us our income as well as the labor of love which gives us the ability to do that work, to wake up early with a sense of purpose and belonging, and to strive (this striving is indeed a type of work) to help those we can and to receive help from others as well, in whatever form that takes.
This work is not easy to perform in our world. In this life. What is our relationship, as a couple, to the world and our friends and family? How does our own marriage reflect our communication and actions with others? How does our communication and action with others reflect and change our marriage? These are all the urgent questions which Father Robert's beautiful reminder made me think of. I also knew this: although these questions carried an urgency with them, they also carry an innate patience, too. And quite simply, the reminder was this: that the work we do - each and every minute of every single day - continuously contributes to the love that we celebrated and were blessed with on September 8, 2018.
Yes, that day, there were plenty nerves racing through me. Yes, that day there was a lot of excitement, making me talk and talk ("a mile a minute" as my mother-in-law has said). Yes, that day, I was extremely energetic, not able to pay more than a few seconds attention to any one thing. But, more than anything, I felt ready. I was prepared to say my vows to Dan. I can't explain why I felt so ready to marry him. It felt like something akin to blind conviction. To true faith. It was unexplainable and yet, there it was: the confidence that this was the man that I was meant to be with, to share love with. All because our relationship blessed me with safety, peace, the desire to learn, the desire to love, and the desire to be loved. Now, writing this, I am aware of where that conviction and faith came from. It came from my awareness that I was making this choice myself. It was my decision to marry Dan. And I knew, and know tonight, that I married him for all the right reasons.
Dan provides those precious gifts, of safety, peace, learning, and love, each day of my life. How could I have ever turned down those values of presence? Making a harsh reality soft and comfortable with all the care in the world? There was no way other than to say: Yes. I do.
My father could not be there, but I know he was there in spirit and mind. He called me on my birthday this year to wish us congratulations and love, and told me honestly that he had high blood pressure and would not be able to fly in for the event. My heart goes out to him for this directness and truth. My heart goes out to him for his hardships and his quiet yet constant love, and I am grateful.
My beautiful sister-in-law Sarah was not able to fly from Colorado to Chicago, for reasons beyond her control. It will always be a huge part of my wedding memory that she, via our wonderful 21st Century technology, was able to see us and talk to us in real time. She is such a special part of Dan's life, and now mine, and I was so glad that we three (four, including our brother-in-law Paul) were able to cry and laugh together, recognizing that this was only one day in all of eternity, and one day out of this new amazing life that we are all currently stepping into. To approach this life with caution, care, and self-awareness is something that she taught me, and I am grateful.
I was given a very special gift from my father-in-law. A few days before the wedding, we spoke on the phone. He reminded me that he will be my father now, and that whenever I needed him he would be there, for whatever reason. He reminded me to breathe in and take in the approaching day with every pore in my body. He reminded me what it's like to have a real father, and taught me what it feels like to have one that is brave, that is open, that is caring and fun and kind. I had never heard words such as the ones he spoke to me, and I am grateful.
My mother and my Ate Rodelia: the two headstrong, hilarious, and silently hard-workers who raised me, were both, of course, by my side, helping me through the day, reminding me to be cognizant of my manners, as usual. But more than that, as I told my mom the night before the wedding, I was taught virtuous love and endless patience. Those values they have blessed me with, as if magical fairies from some old tale, bestowing upon their child, both by biology and by guardianship, these important, ancestral, and ancient codes that must be practiced or else they should die. And I am ever so grateful. I'll always try to keep these safeguarded.
Of course, who else but my mother walked me down the aisle? It only made sense that she "give me away" to Danny. From one protector to another.
My maid-of-honor needs no further words. I cannot speak any highly of her and I cannot say enough how she means the world to me. But. This picture. It says everything, as a picture is supposed to do, an image producing a thousand words. Let me remark upon this: her calm face and her hands. Look close enough and all the strength and struggle and peace and vigilance can be seen without one sound coming out of anyone's mouth. No eyes need to be open, no tears shed, nothing further but the knowledge that there is someone who has my back. And I hers. And that is only one of my big reasons to smile.
My favorite part of the ceremony came after our vows were spoken. The Unity Candle was prepared for us by our mothers. My mother and Dan's mother walked up to the altar during the beginning of the ceremony and lit two small candles, one for me and one for Dan, with the intention of us lighting the single large one in the middle later on. And we did. The symbolism of this candle, which can be easily deduced, is not just personal. For we both hope for the entire world.
Thank you to all who have followed us on our journey. Thank you especially for everybody who came to witness our ceremony. Though I may not be able to write about each and all of you, I've felt your love in my heart.
For family or friends who I have not tied up loose ends with: know that I care about you and am thinking of you. There is still work to be done. I'm trying to do that work with as much respect and concern as possible, and to tend to those loose ends with clear intentions.
The fun part is: we get our professional pictures sometime this weekend! Things, admittedly, got less poignant after the ceremony. If you want to know the truth, I wound up in a patch of pines at the Arboretum as the reception was ending. Here's a really classy photo to show you my true colors (but - keep in mind - I'm a chameleon):
For good measure, here's the exact same photo PLUS one of my dearest friends from high school, Sean.
So. That's only half of it. Stay tuned...
(Don't worry. There will be p-l-e-n-t-y of photos of Dan and I in various states of passion and play to come. I promise.)
All our love,
F (& D)
P.S. It couldn't have ended without a picture of Dan and I, for that's how it ends in real life. I couldn't be more blessed and proud to have this man by my side.
P.P.S. Thank you to my mother-in-law for the beautiful flowers. I was undeniably nervous that day, though many couldn't see it. It was all internal. And the smell of these roses... let me tell you... there was no smell that ever smelled as sweet.
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