(This post was originally published on December 4, 2017, and is now rededicated to Amanda and John. Happy First Wedding Anniversary, my dearest children! What an eventful year! And, yes, little Morrigan Lynn, our magnificent miracle–yes, someday you will be a young girl counting on your fingers…but I assure you, your birth was a full ten and one-half months after your parents’ wedding day!)
There was a rainbow on my daughter’s wedding day.
As omens go, that’s hard to beat.
Neither she nor I actually witnessed this phenomenon, but were told about it afterwards by the relatives, smokers all, who had stepped outside to indulge their nicotine habit.
I’d been praying for days—weeks!—for lovely weather to grace the outdoor wedding ceremony of my only daughter. The venue she’d chosen had an excellent hall, and we knew that, if the weather didn’t cooperate, the ceremony could be moved indoors. But she wanted an outdoor ceremony—wanted it desperately.
And things weren’t looking good.
I began scouring the weather reports two full weeks in advance of the ceremony, constantly checking on my phone, Kindle and computer, comparing predictions that somehow never quite seemed to mesh except for one thing: rain, rain, and more rain. I continually reminded myself that “weather forecaster” is the only job where one can be wrong 95% of the time and still remain employed, but that wasn’t convincing me. So I decided the best thing to do was gather all of my friends and family and issue a request (command!) for prayer. Prayer and petitions to whatever deity, saint, deva or nature spirit they believed in. If they didn’t have a favorite divinity, I supplied them with options, using my favorite search engine (NOT Google, but that’s subject for another blog post). I tracked down the names and antecedents of every saint, goddess, god or nature spirit said to have authority over the weather. And there were a bundle of ‘em.
And so the prayers and petitions and appeals and entreaties went up from a dozen hearts and lips. But the weather forecast remained unswerving. Rain.
However, the forecast began to alter slightly, from rain all day to “rain in the afternoon”. Raindrops, just wait until after 4:00 p.m., I prayed. That would get us safely through the ceremony and all decamped to the reception hall.
And, in the end, that is exactly what the deities, gods, goddesses, saints, devas, divinities and nature spirits (most likely, heartily sick of hearing so many desperate petitions) provided: The perfect early fall day. A temperature that rose to no more than 80, a light breeze lifting the brilliant leaves of the trees, and fluffy white cumulous clouds cruising through a blue sky…all of it lasting until just that last shutter click as the final formal portraits were taken. Just at 4:00 p.m., a dark thundercloud rolled over to obscure the sun, and we all made tracks for the reception hall and food, music, drinks, dancing, cake and joy.
And, at some point during the proceedings, a rainbow.
And that was the one thing I’d forgotten about in my desperate need to control every last detail and thereby provide my daughter the perfect wedding day: the possibility of a beauty even greater than clear, warm weather. A rainbow. The ultimate promise.
Let go and let God. I’m a great proponent of that saying…in theory. Practice is an entirely different matter. However, my daughter’s wedding day was a firm reminder to me of that concept. Another was taught to me by a Hindu friend, who explained that rain on one’s wedding day is considered “a blessing of water”. Sunshine, warm breezes, trees clothed brilliantly in green and gold and ruby, rain and a rainbow. Every possible good luck omen. My daughter and new son-in-law got it all—more likely in spite of, rather than because of, all my desperate pleas to the heavens.
Now, though, laughingly thinking of omens, I’m forced to remember my own wedding day to her father, right here in my home state. Omens indeed!
Indiana had an earthquake.