Here in New England: A Wedding Story
You may know what happens next. A week before the wedding, a great ice storm crippled the region. The church had no power; the inn where the guests were to stay had no power. Kirsten’s mother urged the couple to come up with Plan B. “There is no Plan B,” Tim replied. “I’ve waited 25 years to marry you in that church–there is no Plan B.”
Just in time, power was restored to the inn. But that would have been too easy. So on the day of the wedding, a storm roared in, with a foot of snow, making the roads treacherous. But only Tim’s dad, stranded at the airport in Chicago, couldn’t make it to the church.
It was 17 degrees inside. Candles provided the only light. The guests stayed in their cars, motors running, until the last arrivals. Everyone huddled in the first pews. There was nobody on the roads except power crews. It was so still. So quiet.
The Reverend Michael Scott was bundled into an overcoat and scarf. “This was the first time,” he recalled later, “[that] I’d spoken the words, ‘We are gathered here in the sight of God …’ and seen my breath floating out in an icy cloud toward the bride and groom.”
He’d written many words for the occasion, but in the cold, dark church he uttered only a few. “The indestructibility of this wedding ceremony in the face of almost unimaginable adversity suggests that the same might be true of the marriage,” he said. “Make it so.”
So give this story to anyone you know who’s planning a wedding. And if the arrangements are keeping them awake, tell them about Kirsten and Tim. They want everyone to know that months later, after the wedding where everything that could go wrong did go wrong, the only thing that really had to be right was. They’d found each other again. When they tell their story, she blushes, he blushes, and now and then they laugh like two kids.