This past weekend was the first time we split up our little family since Yaelle's birth.
My husband, Shobab, traveled a full day by plane, complete with layovers and delays to Shreveport, Lousiana. Yaelle and I, (along with my mom, sister and her infant) traveled a full day by car, complete with multiple rest stops to nurse, play and diaper change. We were heading to a little town six hours north of San Francisco, called Adin.
Both events were for a cousin, both momentous occasions, yet in two totally different worlds.
At the Barksdale Air Force base, Shobab's cousin, Richard Clark, was getting national coverage as the new Major General of the U.S. Air Force.
Shobab proudly sat in his assigned seat as he witnessed the Secretary of Defense place the pin on his cousin's breast and formally announce his new rank. The backdrop of the stealth bombers in formation, the high flying flags and uniformed officers added to the weight and grander of the ceremony.
I live in a world where planning a wedding is suddenly your full-time job. Every little decision is big one.
"Who's going to do my make-up? I have to do a test run first! What about my napkins? Paper or cloth?" AHHH! It can be quickly overwhelming. The "Big Day" is almost a sigh a relief that it will all be over.
Jamey lives in a world of simplicity, and one that is completely off the grid. No electricity, no running water.
In her world, she makes regular trips to her well transporting 50 Ib water jugs, even if 9 months pregnant. (Yet, I complain when I have to make an extra trip to the faucet.)
If there could be an opposite of a "bridezilla", Jamey was it.
On the morning of the wedding, we pulled up to the only motel off the only main street in town, "The Last Resort".
I was nominated wedding photographer at midnight the night before. I took my responsibility seriously and made sure to *snap* every special moment.
My sister, Rachel, volunteered herself as hair stylist and make-up artist.
We combined our make-up stash and searched for extra bobby pins. Rachel brushed out Jamey's long blond hair, gave it a quick trim, fishtailed it down the length of her back, and topped it off with tiny flowers.
Jamey had ordered her dress from nastydress.com. It never came in the mail. Instead, she had to wait for her notoriously late brother to bring every dress his girlfriend owned, hoping one might work.
When they finally arrived, we sifted through the bag and collectively agreed on the best "wedding" gown: a cream colored, spaghetti-strapped mini-dress. Jamey was stoked.
Her red bra didn't go with the dress, so without a thought, I took off my beige nursing bra and handed it to her.
From the bathroom Jamey yells, "MA!! I need your underwear!!"
My mom sacrificed her jewelry and her sister gifted her a pair of brand new black motorcycle boots.
As the sister-of-the-bride fitted the neon green garter on Jamey's leg, and mother-of-the-bride slowly zipped up her boots, all 3 looked up in tears of laughter. *snap*
It was a beautifully hilarious morning of "getting the bride ready" and a heart warming display of family coming together and making it work.
We drove for 25 minutes on a dusty gravel road, vents closed, and babies safety strapped in as we bounced over the rough terrain.
We soon entered the limits of the groom's 200 acre land. We drove through a forest of conifer trees, passed bullet-ridden "No Trespassing" signs and a cemetery of beautiful broken down, rusty and disassembled cars.
Dogs erupted in a chorus of barks as we pulled up to the ceremony location.
The groom and his men, light-hearted and happy, gathered toward the back of the aisle. They packed their tins, adjusted the shoulder strap on their rifles and waited for their cue.
Guests took their seats on fallen logs covered with an array of patterned sheets.
The podium was a standing log, with a sign nailed to it that read "The Folcolms" burned in. Behind that, an incredible backdrop of nothing but open land.
Front and center, the groom stood tall and proud. Suited and booted in his freshly dusted construction boots, starched jeans, flannel shirt, leather vest and 38-special in holster. Waiting for his perfect bride.
A white minivan pulled up at the end of the aisle. The guests arose.
The door slid open and Sam Smith's "Stay With Me" bellowed out of the stock speakers. Jamey stepped out beaming with excitement.
She greeted her dad, both with tears in their eyes. *snap*
As she proceeded down the aisle, the father of the groom, "Bones", shouts out, "Damn!! That is one hot bride!" Everyone nodded in agreement.
They said their vows unrehearsed and un-written. No mics, no DJ, no frills. It was a spectacle of love in it's raw simplicity.
And then they made-out like two teenagers on a couch with no one home. Tongue all down the throat, hands all up in each-others hair. *snap*
I wasn't sure what I had just witnessed, but I think it was one of the most touching weddings I'd ever seen.
At the end of the day, two-thousand miles and 5 states apart, Shobab and I swapped pictures and stories. Two contrasting worlds with so many similarities: A cousin, a ceremony, a promise, a proud moment, a lot of love. You had guns, we had guns.
It makes me happy that Yaelle is growing up in a family that is not only ethnically diverse, but culturally, socially and economically as well. It's important to me that the little person we raise is compassionate, understanding, and can connect with every kind of person. I hope that we continue to expose her to all kinds of environments that foster love for people in her.
Like it says in John 15, "Love each other as I have loved you."
I believe that this is this kind of love that joins two worlds and is what will change the world.
