This past weekend, my husband and I got up two hours too early (I forgot about the time change!) and drove from Omaha to Denver-area Colorado for a medical school classmate/roommate’s wedding. A few random thoughts/highlights:
- Eight hours and change is a very doable day of driving. If you leave at six in the morning, you’ll be surprised how fast you get to your destination. (Oops.) All in all, the benefits of driving this distance vs flying handily outweigh the drawbacks.
- The bride asked my husband and me to sing the song for the first couple’s dance. The song was Sweet Symphony by Joy Oladokun and Chris Stapleton. Well, my voice is not like Joy’s and my husband is generally antipathic toward county music. Nevertheless we agreed, after warning my friend several times that we were going to sound quite a bit different from the official recording (“What do you mean?” she asked, genuinely confused). For myself, I was most worried about the low notes that are just outside of my range. Well, the time came to sing the song, and between being slightly dehydrated, having just eaten a good meal, and sitting next to several gentleman who were smoking cigars, it turns out the low notes were just fine but I couldn’t sing the high ones. Quite the unexpected and unsettling turn of events. But no matter. Almost everyone was half way drunk and my friend hadn’t taken much time to feel the feels during her big day, so the couple’s dance was her opportunity to cry. Despite the substandard singing on my part (my husband performed admirably), it was a rousing success. We and the other darker black guy at the wedding got a lot of compliments. (He was more annoyed about the situation than I expected.) Morals of the story: the things that go wrong are often not the things you anticipate and plan for (go figure), and given the right conditions even the mediocre can be just what’s needed.
- We saw a bumper sticker that read, “Carpe Scrotum. Seize life by the balls.” We are children and thought (think) this is brilliant.
- On the way back, we enjoyed one of the most gorgeous rainbows we’ve ever seen. Initially, it was a super-bright swatch of color with clear Roy G. Biv color divisions. (My artist husband had never heard of Mr. Roy G. Biv, which threw me for a loop. I guess for him it is just obvious? Is it a problem that I still rely on this mnemonic?) Shortly thereafter, however, it became a clearly defined full rainbow, and driving in the middle of Nebraska on I-80, we were able to see the end of the rainbow on both sides. Clearly. So many rainbows are like stars, they disappear if you look directly at them. Not this one. We exclaimed over it for about five minutes, in awe. Amazing how God works.
- While I’m on the subject of rainbows, I’ll just mention how much I hate the term “rainbow baby.” I can’t articulate why, exactly. It doesn’t really make any sense related to the Biblical understanding of rainbows. God doesn’t promise another child after you lose a baby, and some women have repeated miscarriages or stillborn children. Maybe it seems too soft and cute when the reality is no matter how many children you end up having you still have a dead one and that never goes away. Maybe I’m just bitter because I haven’t had my “rainbow baby” yet.
SGD