Destination

At our wedding, my mother-in-law read these words, borrowed from a Hopi blessing:

"And there are things to be considered:

Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships? Are you in right relation?
Where is your water? Know your garden.
It is time to speak your Truth.
Create your community. Be good to each other...

There is a river flowing now very fast.
It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.
They will try to hold on to the shore.
They will feel they are being torn apart, and they will suffer greatly.

Know the river has its destination.
...We must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river
Keep our eyes open and our heads above the water.
See who is in there with you
And celebrate.

At this time in history we are to take nothing personally.
Least of all, ourselves.
For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.

...Gather yourselves!
Banish the word "struggle" from your attitude and your vocabulary.
All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we've been waiting for."

It was special for a lot of reasons. The words are stunning, to be sure. Deeper than words, there was a lovely connection to Waffle Guy's roots--his father worked for the US Public Health Service, and Waffle Guy was born on the Navajo reservation. His parents developed deep ties to the Navajo and Hopi people, and still exhibit tremendous respect for the traditions of those nations. The connection to my husband's genesis, and to his parents' history, was a powerful thing to include in our wedding.

Deeper yet was the challenge to our future. I stood in front of my closest family and friends, and listened to those words, and marvelled at what a big thing it is to do all that we do in "a sacred manner and in celebration." In my trials, at my darkest hour, I wondered, will I truly find it in myself to celebrate? Could I do that for my husband, for my marriage?

Later that night, I looked at photographs I'd taken the night before our wedding, when we took a caravan to Oregon's Cannon Beach. My new in-laws arrived with a bag of kites, and my children, and Waffle Guy's children; my brothers, parents, friends--everyone dear to me--launched them into the constant offshore wind. The beach was alive with color and laughter. We squealed when the icy Oregon ocean lapped at our feet. Some of us took photographs in an effort to preserve those precious moments. Some of us held hands with our partners, or snuggled with family.

All of us celebrated.

It occurred to me, looking at photographs from the beach, that this is why I love my family--the one into which I was born, the one to which I gave birth, and the one into which I have joined. The past two years of my life have been rich with sacred, incredible moments like those.

My family is here with me, far from shore, and celebrating. God willing, I'll find a way to thank them, someday.