Surf Meets Sand

 

So ought men to love their wives

as their own bodies.

He that loveth his wife

loveth himself.

                                                                                    — Ephesians 5:28

 

           

            Our daughter Jordan married her sweetheart, Franco, last Sunday. The simple ceremony was under an impossibly blue sky in front of an impossibly blue ocean on Amelia Island, Fla. Their marriage is as beautiful and fitting as the scene that was in front of us: surf meeting sand, blending into one.

 

 

 

            They chose that site because Jordan, a typical Nebraskan, has always been fascinated by the beach, since we don't have any here. And Franco, an only child, wanted all their friends to be able to come and celebrate with them. These friends live mostly up and down the Eastern seaboard, and what a joy and an honor it was to have about 40 of them in attendance along with our beloved extended families.

 

            I could tell you at least 40 stories from the wedding weekend, but just one sticks out, It's for all of us who are parents at one stage or another in letting our children go:

 

            Even up to last weekend, I wasn't absolutely SURE that Jordan and Franco were perfectly matched. Yes, they had dated for more than seven years and saw each other in all kinds of weather. Yes, they had equal academic achievement levels, both sets of parents had been married only once and for decades, and they share a lot of the same interests and abilities.

 

Their differences suggested a good blend, too: she's fair and he's dark; she's quiet and he's the life of the party, and I think, though am not sure, that she could wax him but good in a round of golf. Knowing Franco, having an athletic and competitive wife has to be an exciting plus.

 

But still, a mother worries. She is 25 and has lived away from home for several years now. We've really only spend about three or four weeks in Franco's company, all told. Every time we've been around Franco, it was only during short visits, with everybody relaxed and out of their usual routine. He treated Jordan, and us, like royalty, every time we've been with him. I believe in him, totally, just as I believe in her. But still . . .

 

A MOTHER WORRIES!!!!

 

We're giving away our precious first-born to someone we barely know!!!

 

An AX MURDERER could be on his best behavior a couple of days per year!

 

An EX-CON could pour on the charm like that! A FLIM-FLAM MAN! A SCOUNDREL!

 

How do we KNOW he is going to love, honor and cherish her for the rest of his life?

 

How do we KNOW?!?!?!

 

We don't, of course. We just have to trust our daughter's judgment. And we do.

 

Now, earlier, I said that the marriage was like surf meeting sand. That's because Franco reminds me of the sea: always moving forward, spreading out, endlessly capable and energetic. And Jordan reminds me of the sand: made of a strong, solid foundation overall, but soft, beautiful and delicate up close, reflecting light and warmth, and, in the long run, like a beach, basically unchanging.

 

I didn't say either one of these young people is stubborn. Just . . . shall we say . . . assertive, in their different ways.

 

So we have the marriage of an irresistible object and an immoveable force? Something like that.

 

As the wedding date drew nearer, I worried that, because Jordan is quiet, Franco might overstep in their decision-making as a couple. Would she give him all the power, mistaking that for "love"? Would she defer to him constantly and let him wear the pants in the family all the time?

 

That wouldn't be right. The husband's the leader when it comes to decision-making, and the wife submits. I "get" that. But I don't see marriage as a single-file hiking expedition, with the woman slavishly following her man. The Bible teaches it as being like two people dancing, and while he leads, there are times that she has to step forward and he steps back. That makes it dancing, not marching!

 

So I prayed that they would forge a strong partnership, and work together from the moment of their engagement to create good negotiating skills, manage their two strong wills, set good boundaries between them, and that Franco would love Jordy enough to let her have her way a lot.

 

They planned practically the whole wedding, and it was wonderful to see them work together so well as a team, with almost no conflicts - no Bridezilla tantrums - just calm, creative, serene, professional behavior on both their parts.

 

But then, suddenly, here we were at the wedding rehearsal. And here I was, the MOB - Mother of the Bride - still harboring these doubts. Was Jordan going to lose her autonomy in this marriage? I caught myself kind of staring at Franco. Would he truly respect and cherish my sweet, quiet daughter?

 

The minister finished, and left. The wedding coordinator remembered that usually, the minister has the bride and the groom sign the marriage certificate BEFORE the ceremony, and then hands it to the groom immediately afterward. Is that what you would like to do, the wedding coordinator asked the bridal couple.

 

Franco looked at Jordan.

 

Jordan looked at Franco, and said nothing.

 

But maybe, just maybe, one freckle of a molecule moved one quadrillionth of an inch between her two eyebrows. Just the slightest whisper of an exquisitely feminine frown.

 

Franco immediately whirled back to the wedding coordinator and replied in a take-charge way, "No. We won't be doing that. We'll sign after it's official."

 

BOOM!

 

We all smiled, because we all saw that beautiful, delicate, silent, sweet little quadrillionth of a move radiate like a two-by-four from the bride's face to the groom's heart.

 

And we knew that these lovers have what it takes: balance.

 

Franco has that important ingredient of a great husband: he has enough self-respect to know that he needs to respect his wife and tune in to her just as much as he needs her to tune in to him.

 

I'd prayed for their relationship from the get-go. Why, oh why, didn't I trust them . . . and the One Who matched them up in the first place?

 

So they got married, just as they planned, on that radiantly blue day, exchanging promises before God and us beaming witnesses . . . and the harpist played, the seabreeze kept us cool, and three pelicans flew overhead in perfect formation . . . and the Mother of the Bride smiled through her tears.

 

Why? Because I have no doubt that the One Who married the sea and the sand is at the heart of this marriage, too. †