Last spring, my sister asked me what would be blooming in Birdland for my niece's wedding, and I had to tell her that it was too hard to predict what my yard would look like in October. I thought it was possible that we might have sunflowers, white heath asters and goldenrod, but I couldn't promise. I'm glad I didn't, because even though we tried to water the flowerbeds regularly, the severe drought made the yard so dry that even skipping a few evenings of dragging the hose around the yard meant that a few weeks ago, the sunflowers crisped like I'd put them through a dehydrator, the zinnias gave up the ghost, and the asters and goldenrod went to seed.
Instead of autumn chill, the heat has dragged on through September and into October. The fields have been dusty, and often I see the combines raising billowing clouds of dust as I drive home from town. I began to despair of seeing the trees turn color or even getting my sweaters out of the winter clothes boxes in my closet. It felt like the very soil has shrunk, so the yard is a little lower than it should be. I began to feel my heart sinking with the drought.
But like welcome thunderheads on the dry horizon, our niece's wedding was getting closer, filling my heart with anticipation and giving me a goal. All three of our sons and their wives would be home for the wedding, which meant we needed to get the bedrooms all spiffed up and cozy. Oh, I had fun, too, choosing pictures and photo books to put in each bedroom, something my own mother-in-law used to do for us when we'd visit.
But here was tension, too. In the busy crunch time of the semester, would we get the rooms ready and dusted and vacuumed? My husband and I had different ideas about what was important to get ready, so Michael cleaned and scrubbed the basement while I searched for old toys and little mementos for the boys to reminisce over -- Legos and Lincoln Logs and Nintendo instruction booklets.
After a few weeks of watching the drought deepen and the precipitation forecast evaporate as we got closer to the promised chance of rain, the tension mounted in our family and beyond as the much-needed rain was forecast for Saturday, the day of the wedding. Oh, did I mention that the wedding was to be outdoors? At the sunken garden at our beloved Allerton Park? Our niece and her beloved had hearts set on vowing their love at the top of the circular stairs that opens out into the grass of the garden like tiers of a wedding cake. We watched and waited as they tried to make up their minds. Should they chance getting soaked at the altar? Their wedding guests getting drenched in a deluge? Each day, the chances looked slimmer for the sun to shine on Saturday.
And we were torn, waiting for the decision. Should we wish away the much-needed rain even if we hadn't the power to change the forecast? Each day, the prognosis changed. Finally, a few days before the wedding, they sent out a message to the guests. They would keep to the original plan and hope for a break in the clouds.
Meanwhile, a few of the trees started to change color, just at the tops of the trees. Oranges and yellows appeared like paint or sunshine was being poured onto them from above. Meanwhile, our children arrived, and our house was suddenly full of joking and talking and catching up and making plans. Our daughters-in-law poured over photos of their husbands as children. We gathered umbrellas and rain ponchos but also visited and hugged and told stories and ate snacks and prepared for the ceremony, planning to brave the rain.
The morning of the wedding found me and one of my sons up early. The sky, which had been so blue and empty for so long, was now overcast. I was showing him how to sneak up on the frogs in our pond before they hopped in and disappeared when we each suddenly felt a few raindrops. We laughed and went inside to make breakfast. The wedding was to be that afternoon.
The quiet house was soon full of activity. Michael began frying eggs, and I made sourdough waffles. After breakfast, what a flurry! People started steaming the wrinkles out of clothes and searching for socks. Someone needed a shirt. We got into three cars and caravanned to the park. I put the windshield wipers on low. But a funny thing happened when we got to the garden. The rain stopped.
The musicians played. The flower girls scattered petals. The wedding party led the way to the beautiful, round stairs. We stood to watch our niece enter the garden and walk up the steps, her eyes shining as she waited for her beautiful bride to join her. The rain held off as two lovely girls pledged their love. As always at any wedding for someone I love, something welled up in me -- the family gathered in love, the beautiful music, my niece, the girl I saw get born into this world, now a woman marrying her beloved -- and tears spilled out and ran down my face onto my dress.
And as we all walked back to our cars to drive to the party, the sky opened, and the promised rain arrived to bless the union.
Hallow Beauty; Consecrate Peace; Blessed Be.