On Saturday, August 12th, 2017, this mother’s prayer came to be as my son Adam married the love of his life, Lauren. Although the relationship is  2 1/2 years old in chronological time, I sense their union was eons in the making. I look at the juxtaposition of Kairos and Chronos with time in the midst of time and am certain that they are ‘bashert’ (translates to ‘meant to be’  in Yiddish). It is evident in the way they look at each other, the way they make each other laugh and the way they balance each other out.  What makes this particularly miraculous is that there were challenges along the way in the life of our family that I wondered would ever be resolved. It took love to break the spell.  They met via a mutual friend. Perry was Adam’s soccer team mate and Lauren’s co-worker.

I reminded Adam that karma is a thing. For years he made fun of his ‘weird hippie mom,’ whose music and dress were way left of center for his more mainstream sensibilities. His new in-laws attend rock concerts and have signed rock posters as prominent decor in their home. They also proudly possess the sheet music from the Doors song Light My Fire, autographed by Robby Krieger who wrote the song. For my birthday two years ago, they gave me a purple lava lamp.

As I watched the progression from setting the date to planning the most intricate aspects of the wedding, I witnessed them working together as a team. While not always seamless, I reminded them that this was one day, not their entire marriage and the way in which they handled the ups and downs of the experience was a telling example of how they might manage issues that could surface throughout their marriage.  I joked with them that I had become an expert in something since they picked my clergy brain (I am an interfaith minister) for all things wedding. “Mom, how should we do…..?” or “Who do we talk to about….?”

As the day approached, we were faced with a shattering experience that cracked us all wide open. A dear friend who had initially become an ‘unofficial Big Brother’ and then father figure to Adam when he was 14 years old; died. Phil had told us on multiple occasions during several hospital stays in the past few months that he had every intention of walking Adam down the aisle with me. A few weeks prior, he let go of his body. He was absolutely present for the wedding, just in a different form than he had anticipated. His wife Janet stood on the other side of Adam as we both accompanied him to wait for his beautiful bride. Phil’s photo, along with those of others who were with us in Spirit graced a table with a flickering candle. His name was called out during the service.

The ceremony was held in her Catholic church and was officiated by a marvelous priest whose presentation was interfaith in many ways, even while maintaining the structure of the faith Lauren’s family practices. As he knew Adam was raised in a Jewish home, he invited me up to explain the ritual of the breaking of the glass that is part of a Jewish wedding ceremony. With shouts of Mazel Tov!, the marriage was blessed. His Best Man was his ‘brother from another mother’ who has been part of his life for half of it. Long time friends of mine and his were there with us as well.

Moving on to the reception, the festivities continued with family and friends from both sides of the aisle blending beautifully. It was as if we had all known each other for a long time. Music and merriment, speeches, exceptional food, a photo booth in which silly pictures were taken, were all part of the celebration of their union.

I am moved by the way in which Lauren’s family and friends welcomed us and we welcomed them. My four-year-old great niece made friends who the other flower girl and also the daughter of one of Lauren’s bridesmaids. A girls’ sleepover is in the works.

Adam is a self-taught chef, so the best metaphor I can conceive of for the day is that of love soup. Nourishing and yummy. Long may they drink deeply of it.