HUMOR: Marriage - Raking it Work
Wedding anniversaries are tied to paper, gold, glass, silver, and ... rakes? Well, in Drew's case, yes.
By Drew Gallagher
HUMORIST
I recently celebrated my 24th wedding anniversary, and my wife graciously agreed to join me for this magic occasion to celebrate the nuptials that I had nearly torpedoed before we ever reached the altar. My wife has an exacting memory when it comes to my misdeeds, so she does not need to be reminded that the fact that our wedding even happened was a certifiable miracle and not of the religious variety.
I am not a religious man, which I come by naturally. My father was raised devout Catholic and proudly served as an altar boy, but his faith was shattered about the same time the bottles of alcohol he was selling out of his locker at his Catholic high school were confiscated and thrown out, as was he.
Despite my lack of religion, I was to be married in a church. Though I do not practice any religion, I certainly have no problem with others and their faith, so when my wife asked if I would mind getting married in the Presbyterian church to make her family happy, I said absolutely. Blinded by love at that moment, I lacked the foresight to see that this could possibly lead to the pastor permanently leaving the Fredericksburg area and the church changing its name.
We found a very nice Presbyterian church on Leavells Road (and by “we” I mean my wife) and were told that they would love to host our wedding as long as we agreed to meet with Pastor Mike who would be performing the ceremony. (We also found a very nice place to hold the reception and a very nice baker to make the cake and a very nice DJ to play music. Just to be clear, the use of “We” again means solely my wife except I did taste one flavoring of our three-flavor wedding cake. I figured one flavor was enough and left the kitchen to go bond with my future father-in-law over football.) Meeting with Pastor Mike seemed like a very low hurdle to clear to marry the love of my life.
Pastor Mike was an affable man and seemed genuinely interested in marrying us. I assumed the meeting was to simply make certain that my wife was not preggers or that I did not have an ankle bracelet provided by the Commonwealth of Virginia. Instead, Pastor Mike wanted to see us on a number of successive Sundays, after church, so we could discuss our homework with him. Of course, he did not describe it as homework but rather as a way to get to know my wife better. He gave us each a copy of the same book to read, and though it was long ago I think the title of the book was: Where Is God in Your House? It had illustrations.
I remember the morning before our first official meeting with Pastor Mike, and I was sitting in a chair and dutifully reading my book when I asked my soon-to-be-wife if she had read the assigned reading. She had not and had no intention of doing so which I hoped would not be on the test that was sure to follow.
Pastor Mike, The Affable, asked what we thought of the book and, having been the only one of our couple to read it, I volunteered my opinion. As some of you may know, I am the second-most prolific book reviewer in the storied history of The Free Lance-Star newspaper. (And for those of you who do know this bit of FLS history, I assume it’s only because I have mentioned that to you once or 10 times in passing.) I had not yet begun my unpaid career in book reviewing at this point, but I knew I was fated to provide free copy to Lee Enterprises at some point in my future and thought what better place to start than in the Pastor’s office at Spotsylvania Presbyterian Church.
The premise of Where is God in Your House? (apologies to the author if this was not quite the title) was essentially that we all have room in our house for God’s presence, but some of us only want God to see certain parts of the house. Kind of like when I would go to my son’s rental house his senior year of college and there were certain rooms and bathrooms that I was not allowed into. We spent a lot of time on the front porch.
As much as I knew Pastor Mike wanted God in the entirety of our house (of course God would only visit on the days it was my turn to make the bed or do the dishes), I figured that ultimately Pastor Mike wanted sincere and unfiltered honesty on my relationship with God. That is what Pastor Mike got from me on that fateful day and, in hindsight, I think all those gathered would have preferred if I had lied. (My friend is a judge and I remember a story he told of a young woman taking the stand and turning to my friend on the bench and saying: “Judge, can I be honest with you?” He told her that he would strongly encourage that. God seemed like the ultimate judge.)
I sat forward in my chair across from Pastor Mike and mustered my best earnest gaze and told him that God was not really in my house. God was more like a neighbor who lived way down the street, but if he ever wanted to borrow my rake I would let him use it.
I cannot tell you why I went with rake in that moment, nor have I have ever seen images of God raking leaves. It goes without saying that if God was my neighbor, I would allow him (or her) to use any tool or gardening implement that I owned. But on this day, rake it was, and it left Pastor Mike reflective.
It most certainly did not leave my wife reflective as she saw the wishes of her family to exchange our vows upon the Presbyterian altar disappear in that moment. Her look was neither reflective nor full of love, and if God or Pastor Mike could read her mind, they would have been alarmed by the string of expletives that were most certainly being strung together like the endless run of train cars when you are stuck at a railroad crossing and late for an appointment.
I’d like to say that the reason we did end up getting married in what was then Spotsylvania Presbyterian Church was because Pastor Mike appreciated my unvarnished honesty and my willingness to help God with any yardwork. But I never got the chance to ask him. Pastor Mike and his family moved away, and the church shortly after changed its name to “Hope” Presbyterian. These days, mostly while raking leaves, I sometimes wonder if my reflection on where God was in my life was partly responsible for either of those two changes at the church where I got married.
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