“Rejoice in the Lord always…”
Mustering up enough excitement to go to a local wedding mid-week after work with kids took some doing. What are my choices? Go exhausted? Uninterested? Make an appearance and get ‘er done? It shows honor to our friends. I can see it as a chore, or as an honor.
Resolved to rejoice in our friend’s brother’s nuptials, I opened my closet to retrieve THE DRESS. Blue and purple sparkles began shedding off the dress as I removed it from its anti-contagion bag. I plastered on the makeup, found the biggest, blingiest jewelry my appendages could hold and tried not to wobble in sparkly ankle-breakers.
I checked the boys in their ties and sneakers, donned my bejeweled headscarf and piled into the van. Being the only foreigners at a wedding is a daunting task, so I was glad to see our partners in (fashion) crime pile into the van too.
Somehow our local friend found our van crammed between taxis, motorbikes, pedestrians, and goats in the dusk of going-home traffic. (He was getting a haircut!) I guess a van full of spiffy foreigners isn’t so hard to spot. He hopped in and directed us down the narrow, bumpy alleys to the wedding hall.
Cement trees painted green and dry fountains bedecked in twinkle lights outlined the jam-packed courtyard. Men and women were ushered into separate parts of the neon-lit hall.
“Text me when you get your food.” (It’s not polite to leave before the meal.)
“I will. Let me know when you see the bride.” (The men never see the happy couple.)
Flashbacks of prom mixed with a BeDazzler on steroids hit me as I went through the line-up of our friend’s female relatives. Jewels were glued around eyes and up-do hair, set between dress-matching glitter-glue. Round tables with seating for 500 stretched across the hall. The only men in the room were running the video camera, and they were sure to catch our celebrity on film.
We entertained a string of visitors, fumbling through language, kissing numerous cheeks, and transferring respective glitter. Our conversation was stolen by the blaring music.
“Let’s dance!” (Resolve, remember?)
“Come, on! It’ll be fun!”
“A spectacle, maybe.”
“We’re already a spectacle! Why not?”
My friend reluctantly joined me, though my daughter, not so much. We danced, we laughed, were laughed at, filmed, and yes, we made ourselves a spectacle.
“At least they’re laughing…we shared some joy!” We returned to our abandoned table.
I eyed my phone as we shared some Angry Birds with our new friends. 9:50 PM. Flashing lights signaled an incoming message: Food is coming.
“We’ll get our food soon! The men have theirs.”
As I organized the table to receive our dinner, I noticed it had caught some dress-glitter. It refused to be wiped away. I smiled at the thought. Sharing joy? It’s an honor.
I will say it again: Rejoice!” Philippians 4:4