I sat next to yet another elderly lady that I only recognized by face and not by name.
Once again, as my eyes took in the scene around me, there were many others in the same category in my once-sharp brain. I've known many of the faces for many years, yet cannot, for the life of me, tell you their names. Still, we smile at one another, give each other a sign of Peace, and we listen together to passages of the Holy Bible being read by lectors and the Deacon of the Church, and we spend time together at different functions.
While the Monsignor gave his homily, speaking of marriage, of love, of commitment, of the trials encountered, and of getting through those trials, something caught my eye. It was a something but more of someone. In fact, there were two 'someones'.
A couple with names I know because they are the most American plainest names invented were seated about 7 pews ahead of me. John and Mary (Ellen). They sat together, close together, practically leaning on one another. They are a much older couple and very much in love.
I've known them a long time and know they have a beautiful marriage. He adores her and she adores him. She's a talented artist and he is her biggest supporter. They both show love in their greetings whenever we meet. There may be no such thing, they would say, but I would call them the Perfect Couple.
I felt embarrassed as if I was intruding on an intimate moment as Father spoke and they looked at one another, alternating whispering in each others ears and smiling and listening to our Pastor. It was such a private beautiful moment. I realized that I should have looked away but I couldn't. The more being said about love and marriage and weddings from the pulpit, the closer they got until he lifted the arm he'd had wrapped around her shoulders, the arm with the hand she'd been absentmindedly touching. He moved it because it had become uncomfortable. Since his ailment, I know that leaving a limb in one position for too long can become uncomfortable, even painful. But, he just had to do it. He was feeling it and did it.
Father was saying something about how you should know everything humanly possible about the man or woman you intend to marry. John leaned over smiling and said something quietly to his bride of many years. She laughed a little back at him. They'd weathered the storms. You could just tell if you were paying attention.
They stayed close together until she arose to fulfill her duty as a Eucharistic Minister. She'd done it so smoothly and unobtrusively that I must have looked surprised at her suddenly holding the Host in front of me as I approached, reverently. I'd never seen her move, which shows how deep in the moment I was!
"Body of Christ."
"Amen!"
After the final Blessing, as everyone pushed to find their way out to their cars, I kept my eyes on the tall, handsome John. He made his way slowly up the aisle with eyes downcast and holding tightly to his walker while his lovely wife said her greetings to others near their original seat. I've never seen a man use a walker and still exude such dignity and humility, simultaneously.
People slowed behind him until they finally, bottle-necked where he was laboriously making his way out. As he passed, I had little care for how it looked or if I held anyone else up. I made my way directly in front of him, put both hands on his arms. He looked up, smiled big, and said, "I love you!"
I told him, "I love you, too. And your Little Church makes our Little Church stronger.". He knew exactly what I meant.
Because, you see, to be married is, indeed, to have a vocation like a priest. It is a vocation. My husband and I and others have little churches that are meant to show what God can do with us (when we let Him!), to do good works, to be charitable, and to spread love as we were blessed to be given each other and joined together in matrimony. I couldn't think of anything else to say that would have meant more so I kissed his cheek and walked away, brightened by John's million-dollar smile that could melt a heart.
He continued on his way. I reflected on the earlier scene and imagined The Meeting, The Courting, The Wedding, The Fights, The Make-ups, The Planning, The Children, The Family, The Aging, The Wonderful Life they'd had, so far, together.
I wept with joy praying we all can be a fraction as loving, strong, happy, and faithful as John and Mary Ellen.
Once again, as my eyes took in the scene around me, there were many others in the same category in my once-sharp brain. I've known many of the faces for many years, yet cannot, for the life of me, tell you their names. Still, we smile at one another, give each other a sign of Peace, and we listen together to passages of the Holy Bible being read by lectors and the Deacon of the Church, and we spend time together at different functions.
While the Monsignor gave his homily, speaking of marriage, of love, of commitment, of the trials encountered, and of getting through those trials, something caught my eye. It was a something but more of someone. In fact, there were two 'someones'.
A couple with names I know because they are the most American plainest names invented were seated about 7 pews ahead of me. John and Mary (Ellen). They sat together, close together, practically leaning on one another. They are a much older couple and very much in love.
I've known them a long time and know they have a beautiful marriage. He adores her and she adores him. She's a talented artist and he is her biggest supporter. They both show love in their greetings whenever we meet. There may be no such thing, they would say, but I would call them the Perfect Couple.
I felt embarrassed as if I was intruding on an intimate moment as Father spoke and they looked at one another, alternating whispering in each others ears and smiling and listening to our Pastor. It was such a private beautiful moment. I realized that I should have looked away but I couldn't. The more being said about love and marriage and weddings from the pulpit, the closer they got until he lifted the arm he'd had wrapped around her shoulders, the arm with the hand she'd been absentmindedly touching. He moved it because it had become uncomfortable. Since his ailment, I know that leaving a limb in one position for too long can become uncomfortable, even painful. But, he just had to do it. He was feeling it and did it.
Father was saying something about how you should know everything humanly possible about the man or woman you intend to marry. John leaned over smiling and said something quietly to his bride of many years. She laughed a little back at him. They'd weathered the storms. You could just tell if you were paying attention.
They stayed close together until she arose to fulfill her duty as a Eucharistic Minister. She'd done it so smoothly and unobtrusively that I must have looked surprised at her suddenly holding the Host in front of me as I approached, reverently. I'd never seen her move, which shows how deep in the moment I was!
"Body of Christ."
"Amen!"
After the final Blessing, as everyone pushed to find their way out to their cars, I kept my eyes on the tall, handsome John. He made his way slowly up the aisle with eyes downcast and holding tightly to his walker while his lovely wife said her greetings to others near their original seat. I've never seen a man use a walker and still exude such dignity and humility, simultaneously.
People slowed behind him until they finally, bottle-necked where he was laboriously making his way out. As he passed, I had little care for how it looked or if I held anyone else up. I made my way directly in front of him, put both hands on his arms. He looked up, smiled big, and said, "I love you!"
I told him, "I love you, too. And your Little Church makes our Little Church stronger.". He knew exactly what I meant.
Because, you see, to be married is, indeed, to have a vocation like a priest. It is a vocation. My husband and I and others have little churches that are meant to show what God can do with us (when we let Him!), to do good works, to be charitable, and to spread love as we were blessed to be given each other and joined together in matrimony. I couldn't think of anything else to say that would have meant more so I kissed his cheek and walked away, brightened by John's million-dollar smile that could melt a heart.
He continued on his way. I reflected on the earlier scene and imagined The Meeting, The Courting, The Wedding, The Fights, The Make-ups, The Planning, The Children, The Family, The Aging, The Wonderful Life they'd had, so far, together.
I wept with joy praying we all can be a fraction as loving, strong, happy, and faithful as John and Mary Ellen.
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