A Wedding, A Family, A Song

    This past weekend we were in San Antonio, Texas, for William’s wedding to Maria Jose Fernandez. Two young lovers, two families, two cultures--too wonderful. As you would expect, everything was beautiful. Maria was stunning, Will was handsome, the parents were proud, the crowd was joyful, the weather was perfect, the Lord was smiling.

    According to their custom, we gathered at the Fernandez house the next day after the wedding. This was a family gathering. The bride and groom were present in the gathering along with extended family. Of course, conversations were about the wedding but also about getting acquainted with one another. Tulancingo, Mexico meets French-Canadian, Arab, Californian, Scotch-Irish, Southern Americans.

    Maria’s parents Jaime and Laura were gracious hosts, attending to everyone from both families. After many of the guests left, only a few remained and we sat around in a relaxed circle, contented and tired. Maria’s grandfather Adolfo Martinez took the guitar and began to strum and sing several Mexican songs. All sat and listened, some sang along, all enjoyed.

    As he began one certain song, Jaime translated for me, explaining that Adolfo had composed this song for the family. It was a song that carried the family story and praised the values that were at the core of who they were. The song ended with words to the next generation about staying the course, working hard, being honest, honoring what is honorable, and finding your place in life and society. The patriarch had infused the moment with meaning and substance. Music, story, and purpose were all wrapped up in one meaningful moment.

    It was the kind of moment that earth overlooks while heaven applauds. Quiet, unassuming, yet penetrating and powerful within the family. My hat is off to Adolfo Martinez. He hit the target.

    Perhaps you remember a simple way that your family passes on heritage, culture, and values. Please feel free to share a comment; we would all benefit.

RELATIONSHIP: Our First Wedding

Patrick, our oldest son, married Melody Strom this past Sunday afternoon. I was struck with the richness of the event. Of course, the food was good, the ceremony was heart-tugging, the reception celebratory, full of laughter and dancing hearts. Melody was beautiful, and Patrick was a bucket of tears, as was most of his immediate family. If the Curries have a family trait, it is probably that we blubber all over ourselves in our happiest moments. What a way to show happiness!
Every wedding has its own endearing surprises. For almost everyone, this particular wedding’s memories will include the challenge of finding the way to the Marquardt Ranch. Some said the directions were erroneous, others incomplete, and then others simply had trouble knowing left and right. Yet the wedding itself did not take a wrong turn. The scenic ride to the Marquardt Ranch was filled with crossing streams of running water, discovering fields of Texas Bluebonnets, and even spotting deer and turkey along the way. Split rail fences, stone fences, and fences made of mesquite posts stacked side-by-side.
The ranch itself was a beautiful stone structure atop a shady hill, surrounded by pastures and fields. The bride and groom exchanged their vows overlooking a beautiful flowing stream bordered on the opposite bank by yellow wildflowers. Although the day was overcast and threatened rain, the spirits of the guests were not dampened in the least. A middle eastern tune played by the DJ called forth the Arab Debka dance , Patrick riding on the shoulders of his brother Will and Greg Marconi. Soon Texas seemed to be a middle-eastern melting pot, Greek music playing, Patricia and the Jajeh family leading the Debka according to their Palestinian heritage, and several people joining in because they thought it was a Jewish dance. Such is the beauty of cultures and families coming together in a wedding.
I was struck by how rich we are in friends and people. The Strom family was gracious and worthy of the occasion. Randy and Jody, Melody’s parents, were the reception hosts, generously sharing their joy with everyone. Several of the local San Antonio church community gave of themselves to decorate, bake and clean up at the end. The out of town visitors from both families added so much with their presence and sacrifice. Nebraska, Ohio, Colorado, California, Alabama, Tennessee, and Texas all celebrated together. Farmers, doctors, lawyers, geeks, educators, all entered into unity to savor the moment, to share the joy of the day.
I withdrew for a few moments and walked outside to the edge of the little cliff overlooking the winding Joshua River. I simply gave thanks. For the marriage. For marriage as God’s idea. For family. For community that thrives and rejoices when marriage is honored and upheld as a gift from God to us. For the depth of a God-honoring community that spans miles and states and continents. For the contribution that each new person brings to our lives and to the lives of our children.
Once again the hope of God rose up in me. The next generation will be blessed.In the midst of frustrations, struggles, and pain, there is still joy in the journey. The cause of Christ will continue to spread and grow throughout the earth and throughout time. And our greatest riches are in the people that God has joined with us.
O Lord, I have learned
To compose my soul in quietness
Like a child content in mommy’s lap
I don’t ask you for a thing.
O people, let us learn
That our hope is in the Highest;
From now until forever,
It is He who makes us sing.

LONG-RANGE VIEW: A Journey of Love

    Patricia is having surgery. An old bridge in her mouth is deteriorating and needs attention; actually, it needs replacing with a whole new system. So she is having surgery. I get to be the nurse for a few days. So I sit here waiting and thinking about this woman God has given me. I’m thinking about our journey.

    I realize this truth: love grows in the journey. We have gone through so many things together. A fairytale romance. (At least we thought so). The births of six children, each birth amazingly different. We never wanted to know gender ahead of time; we wanted the surprise. Will was born in the car on the way to the hospital. That was a surprise. It was also my fault. With Judith, we barely made it in time. Not my fault. With Jean-Luc, we just had him at home; and Dan, outpatient. The last two were her choices. In the process of it all, some of our most stressful surprises are now our best memories, our fodder for stories and laughter.

    Of course, having six little ones at home all ten and under had its adventures. There were times when a “bug” would sweep through the whole family. For days we would be up nights, cleaning bedding and carpets and clothes, and praying for God to deliver us from the “pit.” When Judith spent ten days in the hospital with spinal meningitis, we prayed and cried together, pleading for God to be merciful.

    Since Patricia stayed home with the children, our financial struggles were ever before us. We needed clothing for the kids, shoes, and more. God provided, but seldom in the same way; it seems He was always challenging us to trust Him in a new way.

    When we could manage it, we took trips to California to see Patricia’s parents and family. We would check airline prices looking for a real deal. We packed the car and drove a few times. We rode AmTrak across country, coach the whole way. At that time Judith was the baby, and I hemmed her in between my legs and bags and seats. “Are you sure she can’t get out?” Patricia asked. “Not a chance,” I assured her. A few hours later, we were awakened by a total stranger carrying Judith from seat to seat, asking everyone on the train, “Is this your baby? Is this your baby?” That was not one of my shining moments, but I think that Patricia has finally forgiven me.  We bought a pop-up and traveled across the west seeing all the sights we could in as little time as possible. It just doesn’t look that far on a map.

    As the kids got older, Patricia came to work with me in the school. Trying to balance this husband/wife-employer/employee thing was often just that—trying. Yet we have walked and talked our way through it.

    Learning the difference in how we think and how we react to situations has been a challenge. Forced to communicate through these things—because we had made vows before God to stay together until death—seasoned us. We each have had moments when we thought death might be better.

    In the whole journey, we have grown together, we have cried together, we have prayed together, we have laughed together, and we have stuck together. We have learned to love one another, and we have come to see that it is the incredible stresses that we faced together that strengthened our love. Lilies appear through mud, flowers through dirt, rainbows in storms, and love in the journey.

    It is our prayer that your marriage would grow as you journey together. My closing thoughts today are a poem I wrote along this theme. I hope that you enjoy it.

How is it that this Beauty
                            That we call Love
                            Is giv’n to dust-made man
                            From Breath-Above
And calls him out of self and earthly urge
    To live for someone else?
                                This heavenly surge
                                                           Is key
                                                           To life and joy!
I do not fully fathom
        Love in its prime;
                       But this I know:
                                             Love blossoms over time.
As circumstances lash and would destroy,
As man and wife must all their strength employ
                    To guard Love’s root . . . .
                                                          Love blooms.