God has to be the answer to life’s crazy, nonstop issues

By Christine Bordelon
Clarion Herald

Let me just preface this column by saying the wedding and my daughter were beautiful, and she is married. I just keep taking slow, stubborn steps in strengthening my faith.


As a mom – and as a mom with a strong personality and a very strong practical side – I wanted everything to be perfect. (And, my daughter would add here: “You also wanted to be in control!” Maybe she’s partially right, there.)

But, what is perfection?

Just like beauty, it is in the eye of the beholder. My expectation of “perfect” was that things ran smoothly, and everything that we had booked went as planned. Is that too much to ask? For me, the first-born of five, the problem-solver and the worrier who likes a semblance of control, it was.

Best-laid plans
I started off with high hopes. I took a cue from friends whose daughters had already gotten married – give your daughter a set amount of money to plan the wedding of her dreams and lay low by being agreeable on most of the decisions. (Again, the peanut gallery would differ on what the definition of laying low is.)
 
When your idea of what is necessary to make a beautiful wedding differs from your daughter’s, well, let me just say … I probably didn’t lay low as much as Greyson wanted me to.

She secured the photographer and the florist, females who were amazing at their jobs; the fabulous band at the reception; the fun and talented second-line band and many other little things. I booked the limousine bus and French Quarter hotel suite with a courtyard to take wedding party pictures and where her bridesmaids got ready and did several other things.

Together, we decided on a downtown ballroom and narrowed down the cuisine the caterer there would serve.

Most major decisions were made within a few weeks after their engagement, something necessary since we only had nine months to plan and New Orleans venues were playing catch-up from pan demic-postponed weddings. I thought things were going to be easy peasy the rest of the way; what more was there to do to be stressed about?

I learned a lot.

Greyson so wanted me to enjoy the wedding day; in other words, if I wasn’t stressed, she could relish the day. So, she hired a “day-of” planner. You would think all my worries would have been gone. You know the phrase, “If things can go wrong, they will.”

A few unexpected surprises
I think I could have handled a single thing not going as planned, but it was many.  Just on the wedding day: the limo bus broke down; we didn’t think we could take pictures in the hotel courtyard; the cathedral remained filled with scaffolding from floor to ceiling; and I temporarily lost a special bracelet (similar to a  one I really lost during Hurricane Katrina).

And, did I mention the forecasted temperature of 34 degrees plus winds of 15-20 mph?

My daughter’s perspective was the one I should have followed. No matter what else happened that day, she was focused on the sacrament of marriage in church to her fiancé. Instead, I wanted to make everything right. I couldn’t help myself, although I did try. … Believe me, I did.

What I should have grasped was: No. 1, Did I have control over any of it? No. 2, Would anybody else notice? No. 3, What was most important?     

When my son Brett walked me down the aisle to be seated for the Mass, all worry left me that quickly. I said a prayer of thanks to God. Love was surrounding us. Greyson surprised me and honored my mother, who died when she was 2 years old, by carrying her rosary as she walked down the aisle with my husband.

Father Steve Bruno gave a beautiful homily about how a spouse’s job was to get the other person to heaven; the music was truly heavenly; and everyone was so happy. We probably have better pictures, despite the scaffolding, because photographers were allowed access to places they usually could never go.

I was brought to the realization which I should have known all along: God was telling me the entire wedding day to trust in him.

Even as I was praying to St. Anthony that my bracelet would be found (and, thank you, St. Anthony, I found it hidden inside a double paper bag), was I really listening to the voice most important? Was I leaving room to hear God at all?

I really wasn’t. I was so worried about the minutiae – and there are a lot of moving parts in a wedding – and I was trusting in others and myself, instead of trusting in him as I should have.

I wasn’t seeing the most important gifts in front of me: my daughter and the blessing that she was pledging her love to John Matthew, who loved her just as much in return, in the sacrament of marriage in the Catholic Church. 

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