The Runaway Marriage Meets the Redeemer

    I did not realize when attempting cryptic endings on my last two posts, that I was writing myself into a corner. I now feel obligated to write the story of Reed's folk's elopement in a timely manner, just to finish the set. Though our marriage got off to an inauspicious beginning, we had a few things going for us: we were both of legal age to get married, 20, and our parents did not oppose our union. (At least not openly.) Not so for Reed's parents. If I started this story with the marriage of two young people in love who didn't know what they were doing, that would be most of us, so let's get more specific. Patricia was 16 years old and engaged to an older man, Delmar, age 20, whom she had known most of her life, but was at that time serving in the army. Pat's dad gave grudging permission for them to marry when Del came home from Korea. This turned out to be a loophole big enough to drive an elopement through when Del got a short leave and went home to Helena. Pat was not old enough to be legally married in Montana, but they had a plan. Del had a friend who could alter her birth certificate and they would drive to Idaho for a quickie marriage. We are gathered here today . . .

    When Pat's dad figured out what was going on, he tried to get the police to intercept them before they crossed the state line. He located and almost caught them, in Butte. If anyone objects . . . They worked their way to wedlock through a series of evasive maneuvers worthy of fleeing felons, involving multiple cities, transportation by car, bus, cab, and train, as well as disguising Del as a civilian. They caught a ride with a salesman in the jewelry store where they bought the ring, who happened to be going to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. He dropped them off at the courthouse where they got the license. Three wedding chapels were across the street. They chose the one without a line of servicemen and their sweeties waiting. In the presence of these witnesses  . . . Since there are no handbooks for sneaking away to get married, they didn't know they needed witnesses (and it's hard enough to plan an elopement for two people, much less guests). Ironically, after spending all that time fleeing law enforcement, their witnesses turned out to be a highway patrolman and a deputy. I now pronounce you man and wife . . . When they returned to Helena, Pat's dad's blessing on their marriage was, "I have put up with her for 16 years, let's see how you do it." After that unlikely joining, they made staying together even more unlikely by spending the first two years of their marriage apart, while Del finished serving in Korea.

     There is a popular column in the magazine "Ladies' Home Journal" called, Can This Marriage Be Saved? Or maybe, more appropriate in their case, Should This Marriage Have Started? But their marriage was saved because they were. They each trusted Christ as their Savior in 1963 and that changed the course of their lives and their children's lives--for which I am forever grateful, since I married their son. They were married 66 years before Del went home to heaven in 2020. Until death do us part . . . But only for a while, Pat, only for a while. God's plan for us does not require a good beginning, just a great Redeemer.

Our Ominous Wedding

     This is the follow up to my attempted cliffhanger ending of the last post. June 25, 1977 started out as just an ordinary day--Wait that sounds like one of those true crime shows on TV-- Our wedding day began with just the minor hiccups of getting hitched. Reed had camped out at our wedding site in the woods outside Missoula the night before, overslept, had one white and one yellow sock to go with his black tux. (If I cared how my spouse dressed, I would not have married Reed.) Reed's young, clueless cousin came into the trailer to change clothes at the same time I was trying to change into my wedding gown, so my maid of honor held my poofy slip between us as a makeshift privacy screen. Bugs crawled between the layers of my dress during pictures. I shook them out between poses and tried not to think about what might be crawling on the inside of the dress, especially on my body. 

     So much for the hiccups, now come the heaves. The pastor of my home church, where the reception would be held, did not make it to the wedding. We found out later it was because a stock car on a trailer had come loose as he followed it up the hill and smashed into his car. (Omen 1) As we headed from the woods to the reception, we saw a car had slid off the road and into a tree. It was our friend Ed, who was also serving as our wedding photographer, and his wife. He had lost control on the winding gravel road, both were injured. (Omen 2) We were the first car on the scene. Our best man, Dave, was next. Since both victims were able to move on their own, but their car was not, we decided to put them in our car and have Dave drive them to the hospital. Reed sent me up the road to flag down other wedding guests and warn them about the accident ahead, so I whipped off my veil and used it as a flag. Somehow, they didn't mention the veil's multi-purpose potential at the bridal shop.

    When we got to the top of the hill above the church in Dave's car, we noticed ours was at the church parking lot instead of the hospital. Next to it was an ambulance. In many circumstances it is a relief to see an ambulance, but your wedding reception is not one of them. Our car had died at the crest of the hill, Dave had coasted the rest of the way. (Omen 3) At this point we had no photographer for the reception, and no car to go on our honeymoon. But I didn't want a photographer right then anyway because I was crying. Thankfully, a family friend volunteered to take reception pictures. Meanwhile his father, the pastor who had married us, was visiting at our outdoor reception when he heard a crack overhead and stepped back to see what it was, narrowly escaping being hit by a large branch that broke off the cottonwood tree he was standing under. (Which omen are we on now? Oh yes, Omen 4) 

    If Reed and I had been superstitious, we would have skipped signing the marriage certificate and gone straight for annulment. Instead we borrowed his parents car, went to our honeymoon cabin (also borrowed), Ed and his wife were checked out at the hospital and my in-laws brought them (in their other vehicle) to their house to recover. Our wedding ceremony lasted ten minutes, but people remembered our anniversary for years to come because of the accidents, injuries, and expenses. Since our marriage, which began as such a memorable mess, has endured for 46 years, I'm glad we ignored its ominous beginning. Besides, our wedding wasn't nearly as complicated as Reed's folks elopement, but that story hangs on another cliff.

     

Our First Christmas Tree-saster

    When I recently posted on Facebook a Christmas blog I wrote years ago called The Perfect Tree, I realized I have never written the story of our experience as newlyweds getting our first Christmas tree--The Imperfect Tree, or more fittingly, Tree-saster. One December day before our first Christmas together, Reed was off aircraft school. I had stayed home from work because I had a cold so, since Helena had warmed up to a balmy 20 below zero, Reed decided we should go find a Christmas tree. After driving through the hills around Helena, we climbed a shale slope only to discover that the tree that looked good from below was more yellow than green on the side facing the hill. Since we had climbed up rock chips to reach that tree, and its neighbors didn't look any better, we decided to cut it anyway.

     My cold had drained most of my energy and climbing the shale hillside had depleted the rest, so I was having a hard time getting down the hill holding my end of the tree. Sometime during my sit/scoot descent and Reed's sideways slide, the tree made a break for freedom. It made much better time than we did in its downhill roll, and became even more aerodynamic when the branches snapped off from the cold. By the time the three of us reached the bottom, our tree no longer looked yellow because it was a limbless wonder. We left its nearly naked trunk and kindling at the bottom of the hill and drove back to town tired and treeless.

     When we arrived at home, there was a Christmas tree next to our trailer (it was not pretentious enough to call a mobile home). Reed's uncle had cut an extra tree while getting his own and left it for us while we were out not getting one. This event proved to be the first of several tree finding family fiascos that ended with us buying a tree from a lot three blocks from home. Eventually, we decided to skip the memorable mess of trudging through the forest to locate the tree my husband spotted when it served as a rest stop during hunting season, only to discover it was too scrawny to rest in the living room. Or the time it rained and Reed had to rock and push our stuck vehicle out with the deficient assistance of three preschoolers and a wife, all whining. 

    The little corner tree stands where people used to sell fresh cut trees for extra income during the holidays have been supplanted by a few expensive lots. Some of those support charities so at least the extra money goes to a good cause. When we moved to Kalispell, there were many tree farms where you could cut your own Christmas tree. Sadly, but understandably, most of those converted their properties to much more lucrative housing developments. In recent years we have bought Christmas trees at the same places we buy hardware. This year, the price difference between a 6 foot real fir and a 7 foot pre-lit faux fir was $9, so for the first time, we chose artificial for the traditional Christmas tree corner of our living room. It has both white and multicolor lights and nine program options for viewing them. That is a nice bonus, but the ad had me at $9.

     Holiday traditions are memorable, so are mishaps. When the two factors combine, those events become unforgettable--which is why so many people remember our anniversary. It is a good thing we were already married before we realized that our first Christmas tree hunt would be the pattern for more misadventures to come, otherwise the disasters on our wedding day would have had us running for our life, not becoming man and wife.

That Was the Whole Point

   There is no way for people to look at scripture objectively. Unbelievers approach scriptures as ancient myths to help the ignorant cope with life. Believers understand scripture is divinely inspired, accurate to events of the past and applicable for all time to all people. This is the correct view, but it is not objective either. Beyond that, we bring our own assumptions to how we understand what we read, and that can skew things too. I recently heard a speaker on the radio say that most Jewish women, and Mary in particular, understood that the Messiah was to be born of a virgin. Not likely. It is possible that Jewish women hoped to give birth to the Messiah, even Eve may have had that hope when she said, "With the help of the Lord I have brought forth a man," (Gen. 4:1) but that is hardly conclusive. If Jewish parents had understood Messiah would be virgin born, they would not have married their daughters off as teenagers. It would be far more prestigious for their daughter to be mother of the Savior than married to a doctor. The whole point of Mary's question, "How will this be, since I am a virgin?' is that she did not understand. 

    Another place preconceptions affect interpretation is when Jesus turned water into wine. Some people do not like the idea of Jesus drinking, much less making, a potentially intoxicating beverage. However, the word used for wine in John 2, is the same word for fermented fruit of the vine used everywhere else in scripture. There are two instances where another word, translated new wine is used. In the Old Testament instance, the word might refer to grape juice, but in the other (Acts 2:13), it means an especially strong, intoxicating wine. That is what the Pentecost crowd accused the tongue speaking Christians of drinking. In the Middle East, before refrigeration, non-fermented grape juice was not a long term option anyway. But in case of confusion, John added the banquet master's comment, "Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now." The wine Jesus created out of water moments before it was served, tasted like a well aged wine. That was the whole point of John including this in scripture. I wouldn't know the difference, but a banquet master would.  

   Recently in BSF, we studied John 7, where Jesus' brothers taunted him about going to the Feast of Tabernacles, "Leave Galilee and go to Judea, so that your disciples there can see the works you do. No one who wants to become a public figure acts in secret. Since you are doing these things (Amp. version--if you must act like this) show yourself to the world." (vs. 3, 4) Sounds decidedly snarky to me, and I know my snark, but there was still some theorizing in class that maybe the brothers believed enough to want to enjoy a little of big brother's fame. So in case there was any question, John adds verse 5, "For even his own brothers did not believe in him." Clarifying that was the whole point. Sad as it seems, it is probably a good thing Jesus' brothers did not believe during his earthly ministry because they certainly would have suffered with Him. And if His brothers were killed with Him, the early church would have lost James' leadership and the New Testament would contain neither James' epistle, nor Jude's.

    I enjoy speculating about the many things the Bible does not include--conversations, expressions, emotions, etc. but when verses are given for clarification, my assumptions must bow to what is written in the Bible. When we study the Bible, that is the whole point.

 

Christmas is Coming and You Are Not

    I'm trying Trace, I'm really trying to find ways to move past the sadness of your death, but Christmas makes it very hard. There are so many memories in the bag of ornaments I collected for you through the years. And there are new ones I asked your siblings to bring last year, things that represented you. So now there are ornaments for fishing, golf, tools, and a toolbox hanging on the little fiber optic tree we always put in the dining room. It is now the Tracy tree. Last year we decorated minimally, practically on autopilot. The bigger fiber optic tree sufficed for the living room, outdoor lights were on the fence and the star shower pointed at the front window. That was all we had the heart to do.

   This year we bought an artificial tree. You know I have never wanted one, but the same Home Depot ad showed the 6' fir trees we normally buy for $70 on sale and 7.5 ' prelit fake tree for $79 on Black Friday. And you also know I can't resist a bargain. Your dad put the full run of lights across the eaves and down the fence, but it took 3 hours without your help. We are trying to make Christmas familiar and good like I know you would want us to, but there is nothing familiar about this.

    Last Saturday we decorated your grave. The last thing any parent wants to do, but it would seem so desolate when the snow came without something for color and light. So Reed safety wired a wreath to the bench and put a solar light cross in front of it. Afterward we played Christmas carols by August Burns Red in your honor, but not for long. The sun was shining, but the wind was very cold. Since the cemetery closes at dusk, we never get to see the solar lights, but the ones we brought home from your grave last year still give a little light. There is always some light Tracy, lots of it where you live now. I'm sure we will have many happy moments this Christmas, but right now the decorations in their familiar places just make it more obvious that you are not in yours. We're trying Tracy. We are trying to move past the shadows and into the light.

Christmas is Coming and You Are Not

 

There is a certain callousness in Christmas, 

which comes unbidden with its load of gifts,

good memories of the ones we love

made painful because there will be no more,

at least, not like those that came before.

The music, lights and ornaments

which once brought peace and comfort,

are now tender reminders of

the empty places where you were loved--

that Christmas is coming and you are not.

I'm safe at home and surrounded by 

the things that used to bring me joy,

yet all I want to do is cry.

Cruel Christmas intruded as if it forgot

it shouldn't be coming if you are not.