...But Can You Dance In It?
"They fit. They are beautiful. Can you stand in them? Try walking. Okay, not bad, you just found your wedding shoes," said my aunt and my mother.
Two days later my dear friend and colleague took a look at my wedding dress and shoes. "You will never make it through the day in those things," she said pointing at the white silk, embroidered and beaded shoes. "Get white satin slip-ons. No one will know the difference but you. And you will be grateful to me, I guarantee you. As soon as the ceremony is over and you guys have a few moments of privacy just change shoes. When you come in for supper you will feel wonderful and comfortable." And Lisel was right.
I wonder often about the passion that demands everything look right. Those silk shoes were exquisite. I could stand in them. I could even walk in them. But I could never dance in them with joy and zest.
Is looking right worth the price when the essence is not? If you can only have one, what would you choose? ... to look right or to be right? When it is impossible to have both... I choose for things to be right.
Getting married is an old tradition. Making a wedding is a modern business industry. With mothers who are swayed by fashion and impressed by "looking right" there are a lot of interference and interruptions. Many folks out in the world are ready, for a fee, to tell you the right way to make the wedding. First, you must have a consultant. Then SHE takes care of everything and of course, you have no control because SHE knows the "right look" and you do not. The grief we suffered when we informed our mothers that there would be no consultant.
We figured that we needed a synagogue, a rabbi, a chupah, witnesses. Someone to do the food and the flowers. Friends to make the music. Cousins and friends to take the pictures. Oh, the grief we inflicted on our mothers when we said that we were not hiring a photographer. Why did we choose our cousins and friends over a professional? We wanted to live the day not record the day. If we could only have one then it was more important to live the day and build the life. There would be pictures. But no photographer getting in the way of tradition. Also, no runner. Wheelchairs and runners do not mix. No runner.
The miracle of the day was our wedding. Another miracle of the day was that everyone in our many circles of family, friends, and colleagues behaved well. That was a miracle, a big miracle. You can hope but you can't expect. There were no children's tables. Young people sat with their parents and grandparents. No age segregation.
Is looking right worth the price when the essence is not? If you can only have one, what would you choose? ... to look right or to be right? When it is impossible to have both... I choose for things to be right.
Getting married is an old tradition. Making a wedding is a modern business industry. With mothers who are swayed by fashion and impressed by "looking right" there are a lot of interference and interruptions. Many folks out in the world are ready, for a fee, to tell you the right way to make the wedding. First, you must have a consultant. Then SHE takes care of everything and of course, you have no control because SHE knows the "right look" and you do not. The grief we suffered when we informed our mothers that there would be no consultant.
We figured that we needed a synagogue, a rabbi, a chupah, witnesses. Someone to do the food and the flowers. Friends to make the music. Cousins and friends to take the pictures. Oh, the grief we inflicted on our mothers when we said that we were not hiring a photographer. Why did we choose our cousins and friends over a professional? We wanted to live the day not record the day. If we could only have one then it was more important to live the day and build the life. There would be pictures. But no photographer getting in the way of tradition. Also, no runner. Wheelchairs and runners do not mix. No runner.
The miracle of the day was our wedding. Another miracle of the day was that everyone in our many circles of family, friends, and colleagues behaved well. That was a miracle, a big miracle. You can hope but you can't expect. There were no children's tables. Young people sat with their parents and grandparents. No age segregation.
The Friday morning before the Sunday of our wedding day we dropped off the final list of guests to our caterer. He was a kind man who thanked us and said that there would be many changes before Sunday. I looked at him and said, "no, this is our final list". He looked at me, then at my Sam and replied, "it will change."
What happened between Friday and Sunday?
Mrs. Cohen had sent her regrets to our invitation because her husband was deathly ill. But Mr. Cohen experienced a miraculous renewal of health, had a wonderful time at the wedding. He died peacefully the next day.
ADD 2
My little cousin Debbie was so excited... it was the first wedding invitation she had ever received. Unfortunately the ten year old got sick with strep throat. She and my big cousin, her mother, stayed home.
SUBTRACT 2
My cousin Sacha got into a fight with my aunt, his mom, and decided he did not want to come with her. He brought a blind date to sit between him and his mother who arrived by taxi cab.
ADD 1
A couple of dear friends, pianist and singer, were supposed to start the music. But their mother/mother-in-law had a heart attack in the night and they were on an airplane Sunday morning.
SUBTRACT 2
One colleague had a surprise visit from his Lebanese family.
ADD 5
A dear friend from my childhood came to town with her husband and their new baby boy. She called to say, "hi".
ADD 2 + 1 baby
Who knew that life was teeming? The caterer did, apparently... even if I did not know this fact just yet.
Life is always teeming for everyone if we would only pay attention. It shimmers with circulation and activity. Nothing stagnates. It ebbs and flows. It waxes and wanes. It pulses.
Amazing things are happening to all. Do we notice? Are we grateful?
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