conflicting memories

I was reminded this morning that yesterday was the wedding anniversary of 2 good friends of ours. I smiled as I thought of their wedding 7 years ago, how great that time was, and how happy I am for them, as I always have been.

But then my smile faded a little and I groaned to myself.

I have to admit that I have conflicting memories of that time 7 years ago.

It was the first (and the last) wedding that Stephen and I have ever been to... uninvited. Ouch! Yes, confession is out. Well, I should say semi-uninvited. I learned my lesson that day - never attend a wedding with invitation only from someone OTHER than the bride or groom. Never. And especially not when the bride can kick your ass.

I do feel bad about that, and I don't think that I've ever been able to fully grovel and make up for it, mainly because I can be a wimp when it comes to confrontation. But what I've never been able to explain is how unbelievably significant that weekend was for me. Without going to that wonderful wedding that weekend...

Stephen and I had only been dating for a few weeks. I'd already pretty much made up my mind that I was going to marry him someday (whew! I was right!). This was our first trip away together. It was only in Portland, so it wasn't supposed to be very long. But his car broke down and we wound up spending the night until we could be rescued in the morning. Jen and Phil came that morning for said rescue, and it was on the trip back that I really got to know them for the first time. Since then I've been inseparable with his family.

Perhaps the biggest significance for me was that it was sitting in that church waiting for the ceremony to begin that I decided I wanted to convert to Catholicism. Stephen is Catholic, and I kept asking questions about everything symbolic in the church. I probably sounded like a 4 year old: "what's that?" "why?", over and over. When I told him, Stephen was concerned that I was wanting to make the commitment for him, but he didn't understand that it wasn't about him at all; it was about me and my search for my faith. I'd been wandering around this search for a few years, not knowing what I was really looking for. But it was sitting in that church that I realized for the first time: I'm home.

Setting aside the nature of how we wound up there in the first place, I couldn't be more grateful that we were there. It changed my life. So, thank you. And happy anniversary.