Friday, April 6, 2018

On the Front Lines of Life


Copyright © 2018 Anita Fontana

On the Front Lines of Life

            I was on the other side of the office at the photocopier when the phone rang. I hurried across the room but, before I could reach my desk, Pastor Randy picked up the call. As he hung up he announced, “We have an emergency wedding!”
             “What,” I cried. “What does that mean?”
            The bride had phoned in a panic, marriage license in hand. She had purposely called City Hall twice before her wedding asking if they could be married on Election Day and was assured that they could. When they arrived, the building was all locked up. They had called several different churches asking if they could be married that day but were turned down. Could we p-l-e-e-e-s-e marry them? Randy had said yes, and we sprang into action.
There were some still fresh white flowers arranged in vases left over from the Sunday service that the maintenance man took to the chapel and arranged on the altar.
            The doorbell rang and, when I saw a group of five on my video monitor, I knew it must be the bridal party. I immediately notified Randy of their arrival and he escorted them to the office. The bride—young, blonde, petite, wearing jeans and a t-shirt under a plaid coat, and in tears. The groom—big, burly, wearing a Blackhawks jacket.
            “Oh, please don't cry,” I pleaded with her. “It'll all be fine.”
            “I know,” she said. “Now, I'm crying because I'm so happy.”
            The friends grinned.
            After I got their names and other pertinent information, Randy took them to the Chapel and I began recording the wedding in the official church records and making up their Marriage Certificate.
            A few minutes later, I looked up to see him float past the office door, head held high, black robe billowing behind him, a large, leather-bound edition of The Holy Bible clutched under his arm.
            I hurried to complete their documents amid the many phone calls. I didn't want them to wait for their papers. Randy and I had agreed that we wanted the wedding to be perfect for this disappointed couple.
Since I worked Monday through Friday, my only involvement in the weddings that took place at the church was to type the marriage certificate the Friday before. But because of this fortuitous alignment of events, I now had the honor of playing a small part in this perfect, fleeting moment. I was all atingle.
             My husband has often said how much he envies my job. “I sit behind a computer all day and help make money for some faceless corporation. You deal with real life.”
Or as I call it, Real Life ... IN YOUR FACE—birth, death, illness, depression, joy, complaints, grief, pain, and yes, weddings. It all comes through these doors and these phone lines and the staff is on the front lines to greet it.
            As I was answering a call and putting the finishing touches on the marriage certificate, I looked up to see the bride standing in the doorway. She held up her left hand, five fingers spread wide, flashing a gold wedding band. Her grin said, “Yes. We did it. And you guys helped us do it!” No tears now. What a thrill!
            When I hung up the phone she said, “I believe it was supposed to happen this way. I teach at a nursery school and the sound of your nursery school children talking and laughing in the background made me feel at home. Somehow, our union is especially blessed.”
            There were many congratulations, God bless you’s, and thank you's all around. I wanted to come out from behind my desk and hug the newlyweds, but I wasn't sure it would be appropriate. So, I hugged myself instead.
            As we waved good-bye to this group of five, I wondered if we'd ever see them again. Will they start coming to services? Will we have the pleasure of getting to know them better?
            A passing moment in the life of the church; they came, and they were gone. But in their wake, they left behind two people whose lives were touched in a simple yet profound way. Randy and I looked at each other and I could tell his feet were about as far off the ground as mine.
We went back to our routine. There wasn't much we could say to each other. Sometimes words are inadequate to express the joy we feel when we make someone else happy.

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