Tuesday, May 24, 2011

love is deaf

Decades ago, I was a flower girl. A tiny peach princess.
I need to point out that as a preschooler I was a combination of shy and stubborn. I had refused all previous opportunities to bask in the limelight of Sunday School concerts and Christmas Pageants.
Somehow though, like a miniature Cinderella, I was transformed into a regal member of a wedding party.
I found myself standing at the front of the church gazing with interest and enjoyment at the assembled crowd of guests attired in their own wedding day finery.
My reverie was abruptly interrupted by the stage whispers of family members and their rude gestures. "Turn around," they hissed. "Turn, turn around."
I looked anxiously to my left and noticed with confusion that the bride and groom were standing with their backs to the audience. How strange. What kind of performance was this?
"Around," gasped my desperate family, their faces strained with shame.
"But," I wailed...."I want to see the peoples."
Heads were shaken.
I lifted my voice and wept.
"Shhhh, shh, shh," my family fussed. I cried harder.
"Don't cry, shh, shhh," they pantomimed. I cried on undeterred.
The sound of my crying changed eventually from one of chagrin and took on the hollow sound of someone who no longer remembers why they were sad, but feels that they must cry anyway as a matter of principle.
The wedding droned on and on and so did I.
When the minister asked if anyone objected to this wedding, my crying added just the right touch of solemnity
Mercifully, the bride and groom were at last pronounced man and wife and rushed from the building, relief etched on their faces.
"I always wanted someone to cry at my wedding," was the amazingly gracious response of the bride. Love is blind but sometimes it helps to be deaf as well.

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