I thought that I might include this happy news in my last, recapping, post. But I felt that such a wonderful announcement deserved its own space on the digital shelf.
I’m getting married!
Now, my friends and family already know this. My fiance proposed back in February — on Groundhog day (presumably so he could, like in the movie with Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell, get a do-over if he flubbed the delivery). We had spent the day tiling a wall in the basement we are finishing at his house. I have no idea how he managed to keep the secret all day long, but there is a tell-tale wiggle in the hoizontalness of the subway tiles near the top of the stack. A snowstorm had been approaching. He told me later that he had feared I would want to leave early to get home before the weather hit. I wondered why he started working so quickly toward the end! I thought he had just grown tired of tiling.
We set the date for October 12th this year.
I will be working and in graduate school then, so we will have a small, quiet service at his church, followed by a reception at my church. We are thankful to the Lord for arranging this marriage! We know it was His guidance that made it possible because the union between us doesn’t come without complications — the greatest of which might be our different traditions of worship. My fiancé is Catholic. I am a member of the United Methodist Church. And we are both deeply embedded in our respective churches.
We fretted at first over what to do. Although neither of us wants to change the other’s worship, we also don’t want to budge from our own churches. But compromise comes easily to us, often in unexpected ways. In the end we decided that we would just keep doing what we’ve been doing: he at his church and I at mine, attending one another’s together every so often and on holidays. In reality, I am so involved in ministries at my church that there is probably only one Sunday a month when I am able to just sit in the pew and enjoy the worship. Between managing the video crew, singing in the choir, teaching Sunday School, and manning children’s church, I’m usually fully booked. Most Sundays, he’ll enjoy a leisurely breakfast and read the newspaper while I am immersed in my wonderful, hectic, worshipful, prayerful, family time. We’ll both think it is a fine arrangement, and I will gracefully deflect the occasional curious inquiry into why my husband “doesn’t attend worship” (an assumption, I am afraid to admit, I have made before about other lone, married women in the congregation — a lesson on judging for me!).
With God at the center, and with one another’s best interests always at heart, everything works out to the good.