The Upside 6-13-10
The Late Show, Part 2
[When last we left our frantic late-for-the-wedding guests, they had burst through doors into the church basement, in desperate need to get one floor up, where the ceremony was already in progress.]
Rachel and I needed to find a way upstairs, but in our agitated state there didn’t appear to be an obvious means. There must have been six thousand doors spaced around the sprawling basement, all closed. We frantically began yanking them open to see where they led.
“Classroom!”
“Bathroom!”
“Boiler room!”
The organ music above our heads sounded now like it was taunting us: Having fun without you, having fun without you!
“Kitchen!”
“Supply closet!”
Suddenly Rachel pulled open a door and launched herself up a stairwell, disappearing around a landing and up another set of stairs. By the time I ran across the room to follow her, a flurry of flashbulbs had erupted above the steps. Rachel reappeared at the landing, wearing a dazed expression and blinking repeatedly. “This goes to the altar… I think I’m in some photos…”
“Then we’ve got no choice!” I declared. “We’ve got to go outside and around to where Jen was standing! It’s our only way in!”
Shaking off the flashbulbs, Rachel staggered down the steps and we raced out the glass doors to the parking lot again. Like lunatics we scurried along the side of the building and around to the church front facing the street. Grabbing hands, we launched ourselves up the sweep of stone stairs to the arched doorway under which Jennifer the bride had been awaiting her big entrance. At the threshold we slowed down and stepped as nonchalantly as possible into the vestibule connecting to the sanctuary. There were several other latecomers crowded into the small space. We smiled at them while attempting to catch our breath. Well, we thought to ourselves, perspiring like lumberjacks, chests heaving, at least we’re finally here!
Peering over others’ shoulders, Rachel and I were able to see down the long stretch of the sanctuary to the action up front. Jennifer and Craig, standing side by side before the minister at the altar, had their backs to the congregation and were listening attentively as he delivered the liturgy.
What a beautiful scene. What a lovely moment. Taking it all in, Rachel and I turned our faces toward each other and whispered simultaneously: “That’s not Jennifer and Craig.”
In an instant we were back out on the sidewalk. “What the heck is going on?!” I exclaimed, pacing back and forth. “How could that not be them?!”
“Aaaaaaaiiiiggghhh!” contributed Rachel.
“The wedding was at three, correct? Correct??” I looked at my watch. “It’s quarter after three! We’re here at the right time! More or less! And we’re here at the right church!” I pointed at the carved wooden sign on the lawn. “See? Bells Corners Anglican Church!”
Anglican Church? We needed to be at the United Church.
In slow motion our heads swiveled to the left, toward the far end of the street. About four blocks in the distance, thrusting up beyond the leafy tops of a stand of trees, was another church spire.
“Wait here!” I said. Running like a maniac. Side of the church. Parking lot. Keys. Ignition. Go. I braked the car to a squealing stop where the church driveway met the road. Rachel plunged in.
Faster than you can say “Warp speed, Mr. Sulu” we arrived at Bells Corners United Church. We did not park in the parking lot, we landed in the parking lot.
And in the flash of lightning it took to make that four-block trip, something snapped in us. We fell out of the car laughing. I mean “wet-your-pants, no-holding-back” laughing.
Presently composed, we slipped as inconspicuously as possible into a back pew. The moment we sat down, everyone else stood up for the minister’s announcement: “I now present to you… Mr. and Mrs. Craig and Jennifer Gibson!” We rose to our feet and joined in with the raucous applause. Arm in arm, the newlyweds paraded down the aisle and out the great double doors as jubilant organ music piped them along.
“My, wasn’t that a wonderful service!” remarked an elderly lady occupying the pew in front of us. She was beaming with delight at Rachel and me.
“Every second of it!” I said.
The Bible often describes heaven as being like a joyous wedding. Some folks miss out because they try to get there through the wrong doors. “I am the way,” promised Jesus.
Sounds great. But I still don’t plan on getting there early.
Peace, joy & laughter,
Cuyler