The joy of the moment

We braved a bee sting to the face, spent evening time by the pool when the sun’s rays offered mercy, shopped for last minute necessities, and watched delightful black lines overtake the enormous to-do list on the refrigerator.

Probably the only thing better than savoring a good moment is to think back and allow the memory to wash through good moments savored. My daughter, Elise and her husband, Scott, were married on June 19 last year. They were living in St. Louis at the time and we still occupied the family home in Middle Tennessee; her dad, Roger, lived in Michigan where his job relocated. Younger brother, Nicholas had an apartment in Murfreesboro where he was a student. The magical week before the wedding with so many tasks at hand, Elise and her dog, Riley came home. Roger took vacation time and drove south, and Nicholas brought his pup, Clover to join in the party.

I could not remember the last time our whole family convened at home with a common goal and no outside distractions from work and school responsibilities. The daunting task of readying the house and yard for the wedding festivities is now a fond memory, but those who braved the heat and weeds (Roger and Nick) worked feverously.

Elise recalls swimming laps in the pool to firm up the triceps before they would be highlighted in a wedding dress. She tells me remembers Nick putting down the power sprayer, Roger abandoning his clippers and all of us sitting by the pool to chat and take in the day as she swam. I do not remember this moment exactly, but having her share it with caused warmth to wash over me at the specialness of spontaneous family time.

We learned early in the week when she developed a sun rash that this bride did not need the golden tan and she would stay out of the brutal Southern heat during the day. One evening soon after the sun rash eruption, we took a walk around the neighborhood. Naturally, a bee flew in from planet nowhere and stung her on the face. After getting the bride-to-be in the house, naming her “Calamity Jane,” and packing the sting with baking soda, we decided she needed quarantined, as a random meteor might fall from the sky and break her foot.

One evening, when the bee sting was still an issue, we drove to Murfreesboro because Nick wanted to show off his first apartment. We ordered our family-favorite pizza and watched brother and sister’s nearly identical dogs wrestle on the tiny living room floor. Funny, it seemed somewhat similar to how a young Elise and Nick used to duke it out when contained in a small space and under the microscopic watch of too many adults.

A meticulous list maker, Elise’s before-the-wedding epic master list ruled the household and all its inhabitants. She categorized the list, as I recall, by daily jobs and placed initials of the person responsible for completion and deadline time. The list, as much as we liked to poke fun at it, assured a smooth progression for the very important week, and kept tempers at bay. We knew what we had to do and we did it.

By this time in the big week, in-laws, a groom, and various relatives began to arrive. Our time together as a four-person unit came to an end, and we welcomed its expansion. The big list gave way to required black marks indicating jobs complete, and by week’s end, we felt refreshed, revived, and so tight as a family unit.

The big day arrived with the bride unscathed. No sun rash, bee stings, broken bones, or undocumented cases of scurvy. Her wedding experience will hold fast in my memory as one of the happiest days of my life. We laughed, shared stories, and savored the moments.

I am thankful to God that we do not know our futures, and that our responsibility and privilege is to enjoy moments as they come. This week gives me joy in resting on the memories, and hope for the future.