Friendship, Love, and Grace

Weddings are for princesses. Marriages, on the other hand, are not. There's nothing princess-y about marriage. Long after the unity candle has fizzled and the frozen top layer of cake have been eaten (or tossed), marriage lingers. There are bills to pay and lawns to mow. The dishes just keep stacking in the sink;  washing hubbsie's socks soon loses its mysterious allure (the mystery is precisely defined as "what on earth is that smell?"); and any pretty satin robes give way to terry cloth and sweat pants.

The tarnish of marriage is the very reason to celebrate the milestones and recreate the sparkle--complete with tiaras.  I attended a 50th anniversary party this weekend.  Or rather, a prom. It was outside, and as any Oklahoma can tell you, it's hot. Not a little warm. Hot. As in melt Crayons on the sidewalk hot.

We didn't melt from the heat. But every heart melted just a little bit when dear friends stood in front of us all and professed their love for each other after 50 years of bills, dirty dishes and socks.  Four children. Countless grand-children. Dozens and dozens of friends who call them family. Their door is always open (I should know--my mom and I have stopped by their house many afternoons just for a potty break).

Without them, my wedding wouldn't have happened. In all seriousness, he conducted the ceremony, and she played the organ. And, it wouldn't have been right without them.  I rode in their daughter's Trans Am to get happy meals when I stayed at their house the summer I was six. I'm Lutheran, but some of my best church memories come from a well-loved church house in Ponca City, Oklahoma. I've marveled at the amount of food that she can cook in just one day.  My mom and I have spent Christmas Eve with their family.  When I was little, I got so excited at the prospect of an evening at their house that I jumped up and scraped nearly my entire chin off on the dishwasher handle.  I practiced piano at their house before school.

I've laughed at stories of the wig shop where she and my mom worked as young twenty-somethings. I watched my mom remake every bridesmaid dress for a polka dot princess wedding (I was a candle-lighter, and the bride's daughter was a candle-lighter in my wedding).  A true friendship is unusual. A friendship that survives children, parents, death of parents, loss of siblings, and hard times is precious.  I am grateful for the example that my mom and her best friend have set.

So, last night, when mom's best friend and her husband celebrated, I celebrated too.  I am grateful for the example set by this couple. I am grateful for the example set by my mom and her friend.

The prom was hot. Small children sweated along with the grown ups. The chocolate fountain overflowed, and the wind took some tablecloths. But what we will all remember from last night is the message shared by dear friends: By Grace...

It's not by our own works that we survive this thing called marriage. Tide and Dawn dishwashing soap help along the way.   But the true blessing of love, friendship, and marriage is delivered by grace alone.  And so, what we will all remember most of all is 100 voices lifted in the hot Oklahoma sky together singing Amazing Grace.